Remembering Granger

RP Blog

[ms-berisama]

dramione ai art

[rememberinggranger]

I Saw Rise in the Heat

Morning clarity is a funny thing. The start to a new day beckons a decision. One can choose to carry over their previous day. Bring the memories and emotions with them. A continuation. Or, view the new day as a fresh start. Make the conscious decision to forget and wipe the slate clean. Begin anew.

Hermione was desperate for the latter.

Newly risen sunlight beamed into the room through sheer drapes that were stained from wear and time. Specks of dust danced around the morning rays only appearing when shone in the light. The smell of a homely musk filled the room from the wooden furniture and untouched linen in neat piles. Lingering decorations that Percy left behind shared space with the few belongings Hermione brought into the Burrow. On the bedside table sat a framed unmoving photo of her parents on opposite sides, a sizable gap awkwardly settling between them.

A gap where Hermione once stood before she erased herself from their narrative, and with it, her image from the photo.

Faint clattering and Weasley voices seeped into the room. Paired with the scent of sausage and egg, Hermione knew she’d slept in a little later than she intended. She could hear the residence of the burrow hurriedly flitting about, readying themselves for their own respective days.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, fingernails clawing into the mattress below as she tried to suppress the yesterday that lingered.

Today was a new day. She planned to march into that Manor with her head held high, exuding confidence. Malfoy promised not to interfere and she firmly believed it was for the best. She’ll deliver the news that Ron and Harry would like to speak with him and finish her research.

It was a simple plan. A plan she can follow through on.

Except for the fact that every time she closed her eyes, yesterday's events flooded back into her subconscious against her will. Hermione’s perception of Draco Malfoy was eroding. His reputation was diminishing before her, replaced with this new version of Malfoy she’d only just met. The discovery of his softness and how gentle he could be. How much pain he’s endured. The things he was forced to do for the sake of his loved ones. His willingness to keep them safe. To keep her safe.

The shared touch. Both of them, branded. Their silent truce.

It was all too confusing for Hermione to unpack. So she decided not to. Once she was through with the library, this wouldn’t be an issue any longer. He will cease to take up space in her waking thoughts. She will never have to see Draco Malfoy in this capacity, so intimately, ever again. That was a promise.

Hermione stood up, ready to start her day with a new found conviction. She took a few steps on the cold hardwood floor and threw open the doors to the wardrobe. Deciding what to wear came easier today. There wasn’t a need for business attire as Malfoy knew now that she wasn’t there on behalf of the Ministry. She chose a well loved pair of blue jeans and a crimson cashmere jumper. If she was going to be hunched over books for the better half of her day, she’d rather be comfortable and warm.

One glance in the mirror and she realized she had neglected her now frizzing lion's mane that framed her face, puffs and spirals wildly splayed in each direction. The spell-gone-wrong was not kind to her curls. She made the quick decision to deal with it later and twister her locks into a tight bun in the back of her head, a few pieces falling out and framing her face as she did so. Glancing to her small makeup bag, she decided against reaching in. There was no one at the Manor she was trying to impress.

Especially not Draco Malfoy.

With her hand on the bedroom’s doorknob, she exhaled deeply, readying herself for the questions and concerns of her day's agenda, mustering the courage to open the door and walk through.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she was nearly taken down by Ginny who was rushing and donning her Harpies uniform.

“Sorry! I’m late!” The blur of Ginny announced, as she made for the exit, the sound of the front door slamming in her wake.

Hermione looked up toward Ginny’s room and watched as Harry Potter sauntered through the doorway buttoning his shirt. A small giggle bubbled up as Harry stopped in his tracks, eyes wide knowing full well he’d been caught.

“You’re not supposed to be in her room, Harry.” Hermione sang playfully, poking fun. Letting herself joke with her friend if only for a moment.

“What Molly doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Harry countered in a hushed tone, returning Hermione’s amusement.

Hermione pretended to zip her mouth shut and toss the key over her shoulder as they met at the bottom of the stairs, both falling into a hardy laugh.

“Please tell me you’ve changed your mind.” The air of amusement shifted into seriousness. Hermione dropped her smile.

“I haven’t. I’m going alone.”

Hermione didn’t let him say another word. She rushed over to the table, grabbed a slice of toast from the breakfast scraps left behind, slipped into her shoes, and out the front door she went.

Harry’s footsteps were heavy trailing behind her, desperately trying to get a word in before she left. Hermione was keen on ignoring him.

“If you’re not back by dinner, I will not hesitate to come get you, Hermione!” Harry screamed in her direction, but it reached deaf ears.

She took a few steps away from the threshold and vanished from sight, only to reappear among the tall hedges of Malfoy Manor.

As she approached the ominous entrance, a pang of anxiety took hold. She remained strong in her demeanor, not letting her intrusive thoughts sway her. After brushing toast crumbs from her jumper, she knocked on the door and waited to be let inside once more.

[dracoslibrary]

Draco spun the S.P.E.W. button over his knuckles again and again.

He'd found it in the pocket of Granger's blazer, the blazer she'd left behind in her rush to leave the manor yesterday. It lay on his bed now, neatly pressed and folded by Keys. And the button went round and round on his knuckles as Draco thought. And waited.

He had no idea when or even if Granger would arrive, but he was determined not to see her when she came back again to use his family library. There was no reason. He'd said his peace. He'd made his choice. Leave her alone. Stay isolated. Wait until next Thursday for the conclusion of the trial and take whatever comes in stride. He couldn't hope for anything more.

His counsel was quick to tell him that it was a good sign that his parents had been let off with only a steep fine, but neither of them had tried to kill the great Albus Dumbledore. Neither of them had been forced to torture children at school. His mother didn't even have the Dark Mark. Draco had come to terms with the fact that he was more than likely doomed.

And doomed men made for poor company.

He would leave Granger to her research and wait upstairs for her to come and go. If she needed anything, she could ask Keys. And Draco would have Keys return her blazer, minus one S.P.E.W. button, whatever S.P.E.W. stood for. That he would keep for himself. Just a small token of their time together. She wouldn't even notice it was gone.

The thought of her hand in his flashed in Draco's mind, and he blushed. He popped the button up and caught it, gripping it tight. He felt the outline of it pressing hard against his palm and fingers. The pain felt good. It was real. She had really been there. This was really hers. Something he could keep to remind him.

Of what?

Of how she'd mistrusted him? Rejected him?

Of the way she'd looked at him when he had spilled his secrets? Her soft brown eyes. Her parted lips...

He released his grip on the button, suddenly afraid he'd bend it, break it. Like he broke everything else in his life.

Just then, Draco heard a distant knock at the front door, and he turned to his bedroom door as if the noise had come from just outside it. He slid the button into his pocket and moved to the door. He pressed his ear to it, listening.

Nothing.

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Draco opened the door just a crack, then wider. Far away, muffled voices from downstairs.

What could it hurt? He wasn't going to see her. Just listen. Just for a moment. Then he would return to his room and wait.

Draco slipped out of his room and down the hall to the staircase. He stood at the top of the stairs and listened to the indistinct melody of her voice carrying up from the foyer. Footsteps. Movement. Her voice trailed away again into nothing. Draco hesitated for an instant, then he padded barefoot down the stairs, listening hard for the sound of Granger's voice.

He was outside of the doors of the library before he knew what he was doing, holding his breath with the effort of listening. Nothing.

Nothing.

Of course nothing. She was there to do research alone. Who would she be talking to aside from Keys, who had clearly already gone?

Draco leaned against the door. She was just there, just on the other side. He could go in.

No.

But he didn't leave either. Now that he was here, he couldn't make himself go.

He would stay, just until his heartbeat slowed. Just until his senses returned to him. He would stay and pretend they were there together, pretend he wasn't alone. Just for a little while.

He stuck his hand into his pocket and held the S.P.E.W. button again.

Hopeless. He was hopeless.

[rememberinggranger]

The walk to the library wasn’t nearly as overwhelming or long as the day prior. As Keys led her down the halls, she watched as the portraits gave smug glances and rolled their eyes as she passed. Hermione avoided eye contact, listening to her footsteps on the marble tile as a distraction, grateful when they approached the double doors of the library.

Keys clicked the door open and passed through, Hermione trailing close after. The room illuminated as they walked in, revealing the dark color pallet wall to wall bookshelves holding vast amounts of information Hermione was itching to dive into.

A sense of belonging washed over her as she passed through the doorway. All over again, she was in awe of the sheer greatness of this library. She took a long inhale, closed her eyes, and welcomed in the scent of inked parchment bound by leather. The scent all too familiar to Hermione Granger. This is where she belonged. Among the books. Surrounded by knowledge she doesn’t yet possess. How powerful she felt knowing that this library was filled with information she has yet to hold knowledge of or understand. She itched to pry them open and spend the rest of her life reading their contents.

As she opened her eyes, she noticed something was missing, though. She’d only been in this room once before and surely didn’t have the layout and decor memorized. Still, she felt a sense of emptiness.

Hermione peered around the room trying to figure out what was missing.

Malfoy.

He hadn’t bothered to greet her. Had she expected him to? Malfoy mentioned he wouldn’t bother her if she returned, but she thought he’d at least say hello. Make sure she’s settled in okay. Pull books for her that were safe to open and read.

Admittedly, Malfoy’s absence was bothering her. But she didn’t have time to understand why. Nor did she need him.

Thankfully, she has Keys!

Hermione turned back around with a polite smile and realized that Keys had already gone. How long ago, she wasn’t sure.

Suddenly, she felt small, the vastness of the library engulfing her. She didn’t dare touch a book without guidance after what happened the day prior.

“Keys?” Her voice evaporated into the room, hoping the house-elf would reappear. She didn’t.

Hermione was unsure how to proceed. Hermione was afraid to move, the books looming around her, turning from friend to foe. Maybe if she went looking for Keys?

She couldn’t very well stand here and do nothing.

The quick decision to leave the library go on a quick search for the house-elf was made before she was able to talk herself out of it. She made her way for the door and when she passed through, a figure stood just on the other side.

Hermione screamed and reflexively pulled out her wand, pressing it to the figures throat. In a panic, she willed her eyes to make sense of the figure. As the image became clearer, she realized it was Draco none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy.” Hermione exclaimed, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest, as she lowered her wand. “I was seconds away from petrifying you. What are you doing?”

[dracoslibrary]

Granger's wand pressed painfully against Draco's throat, and he regretted very much coming downstairs in the first place. Nothing, not even a glimpse of Granger, was worth getting blasted into oblivion, and that was just what she seemed about to do.

Then she spoke, cursing at him, and relief rushed through him despite his predicament. She was there, really there. She was talking to him.

She was talking to him. Right.

He supposed he'd better have an answer. Something that made sense. Something that wasn't as ridiculous as this felt, getting caught by Granger lurking in the corridor outside of his own library.

Draco didn't have an answer. He didn't know what he was doing there himself.

Yes, he did. He did know. He had come to see her.

But he wasn't about to tell her that.

Draco swallowed as the wand tip began to grow hot against his skin. Slowly—and, he hoped, with dignity—he brought up a hand and brushed the wand aside, guiding the tip downward until it pointed at the parquet wood floor.

"I live here, Granger," he said. "Or had you forgotten? I was simply... passing by on my way to..." He gestured vaguely down the corridor, which ended in the entrance to his father's study, a place he never went. Granger didn't need to know that. He decided not to finish the sentence. He didn't need to justify himself to her anyway. This was his house. This was his corridor. He had every right to be here.

So why did he feel like a scolded schoolboy?

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione followed the flick of his hand down the darkened corridor as he left his thought open ended. When her eyes returned to him, her brow was furrowed in confusion, trying to make sense of his explanation. Her head was on a swivel then, looking at the path from where he came, to him, and back to his supposed destination. If this story was true, why then was Malfoy pressed against the doorway to the library?

The snark in his excuse didn’t go unnoticed. There he is, she thought. The Draco Malfoy she’d grown up with standing presently before her. She rolled her eyes and returned her wand from where it came, holding a pointed grimace on her face.

Admittedly, she was a little hurt. If this story was truth and he was just passing by, he didn’t think to stop in and say hello? Didn’t want to maybe? Ask if she was comfortable or needing anything? Hell, ask if she’d spoken with Harry and Ron. True he’d warned her that he wouldn’t interfere but…

Hermione buried these feelings as quickly as they manifested. Her and Malfoy were hardly friends. They had shared a single intimate moment together. It didn’t mean that their relationship was irrevocably changed.

Right?

Clearing her throat, Hermione presented a polite smile.

“Of course I didn’t forget.” She said, her tone even and pleasant.

“I was on the hunt for Keys. I’m nervous to touch any of the books after…” her voice trailed off as the image of Malfoy’s transparent shirt -soaking and clinging to his skin- flashed in her memory. Her eyes flicked to his chest before returning to his eyes, “…yesterday.” She caught herself, her heart quickening again in her chest.

“She’d gone before I managed to ask for help. I can’t imagine you’d be too busy to lend a me a hand. I’m sure it will only take a moment and then you can be off to…”

She flicked her hand down the corridor mimicking Malfoy’s gesture, a sly grin curing as she did so.

[rememberinggranger]

I Saw Rise in the Heat

Morning clarity is a funny thing. The start to a new day beckons a decision. One can choose to carry over their previous day. Bring the memories and emotions with them. A continuation. Or, view the new day as a fresh start. Make the conscious decision to forget and wipe the slate clean. Begin anew.

Hermione was desperate for the latter.

Newly risen sunlight beamed into the room through sheer drapes that were stained from wear and time. Specks of dust danced around the morning rays only appearing when shone in the light. The smell of a homely musk filled the room from the wooden furniture and untouched linen in neat piles. Lingering decorations that Percy left behind shared space with the few belongings Hermione brought into the Burrow. On the bedside table sat a framed unmoving photo of her parents on opposite sides, a sizable gap awkwardly settling between them.

A gap where Hermione once stood before she erased herself from their narrative, and with it, her image from the photo.

Faint clattering and Weasley voices seeped into the room. Paired with the scent of sausage and egg, Hermione knew she’d slept in a little later than she intended. She could hear the residence of the burrow hurriedly flitting about, readying themselves for their own respective days.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, fingernails clawing into the mattress below as she tried to suppress the yesterday that lingered.

Today was a new day. She planned to march into that Manor with her head held high, exuding confidence. Malfoy promised not to interfere and she firmly believed it was for the best. She’ll deliver the news that Ron and Harry would like to speak with him and finish her research.

It was a simple plan. A plan she can follow through on.

Except for the fact that every time she closed her eyes, yesterday's events flooded back into her subconscious against her will. Hermione’s perception of Draco Malfoy was eroding. His reputation was diminishing before her, replaced with this new version of Malfoy she’d only just met. The discovery of his softness and how gentle he could be. How much pain he’s endured. The things he was forced to do for the sake of his loved ones. His willingness to keep them safe. To keep her safe.

The shared touch. Both of them, branded. Their silent truce.

It was all too confusing for Hermione to unpack. So she decided not to. Once she was through with the library, this wouldn’t be an issue any longer. He will cease to take up space in her waking thoughts. She will never have to see Draco Malfoy in this capacity, so intimately, ever again. That was a promise.

Hermione stood up, ready to start her day with a new found conviction. She took a few steps on the cold hardwood floor and threw open the doors to the wardrobe. Deciding what to wear came easier today. There wasn’t a need for business attire as Malfoy knew now that she wasn’t there on behalf of the Ministry. She chose a well loved pair of blue jeans and a crimson cashmere jumper. If she was going to be hunched over books for the better half of her day, she’d rather be comfortable and warm.

One glance in the mirror and she realized she had neglected her now frizzing lion's mane that framed her face, puffs and spirals wildly splayed in each direction. The spell-gone-wrong was not kind to her curls. She made the quick decision to deal with it later and twister her locks into a tight bun in the back of her head, a few pieces falling out and framing her face as she did so. Glancing to her small makeup bag, she decided against reaching in. There was no one at the Manor she was trying to impress.

Especially not Draco Malfoy.

With her hand on the bedroom’s doorknob, she exhaled deeply, readying herself for the questions and concerns of her day's agenda, mustering the courage to open the door and walk through.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she was nearly taken down by Ginny who was rushing and donning her Harpies uniform.

“Sorry! I’m late!” The blur of Ginny announced, as she made for the exit, the sound of the front door slamming in her wake.

Hermione looked up toward Ginny’s room and watched as Harry Potter sauntered through the doorway buttoning his shirt. A small giggle bubbled up as Harry stopped in his tracks, eyes wide knowing full well he’d been caught.

“You’re not supposed to be in her room, Harry.” Hermione sang playfully, poking fun. Letting herself joke with her friend if only for a moment.

“What Molly doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Harry countered in a hushed tone, returning Hermione’s amusement.

Hermione pretended to zip her mouth shut and toss the key over her shoulder as they met at the bottom of the stairs, both falling into a hardy laugh.

“Please tell me you’ve changed your mind.” The air of amusement shifted into seriousness. Hermione dropped her smile.

“I haven’t. I’m going alone.”

Hermione didn’t let him say another word. She rushed over to the table, grabbed a slice of toast from the breakfast scraps left behind, slipped into her shoes, and out the front door she went.

Harry’s footsteps were heavy trailing behind her, desperately trying to get a word in before she left. Hermione was keen on ignoring him.

“If you’re not back by dinner, I will not hesitate to come get you, Hermione!” Harry screamed in her direction, but it reached deaf ears.

She took a few steps away from the threshold and vanished from sight, only to reappear among the tall hedges of Malfoy Manor.

As she approached the ominous entrance, a pang of anxiety took hold. She remained strong in her demeanor, not letting her intrusive thoughts sway her. After brushing toast crumbs from her jumper, she knocked on the door and waited to be let inside once more.

[dracoslibrary]

Draco spun the S.P.E.W. button over his knuckles again and again.

He'd found it in the pocket of Granger's blazer, the blazer she'd left behind in her rush to leave the manor yesterday. It lay on his bed now, neatly pressed and folded by Keys. And the button went round and round on his knuckles as Draco thought. And waited.

He had no idea when or even if Granger would arrive, but he was determined not to see her when she came back again to use his family library. There was no reason. He'd said his peace. He'd made his choice. Leave her alone. Stay isolated. Wait until next Thursday for the conclusion of the trial and take whatever comes in stride. He couldn't hope for anything more.

His counsel was quick to tell him that it was a good sign that his parents had been let off with only a steep fine, but neither of them had tried to kill the great Albus Dumbledore. Neither of them had been forced to torture children at school. His mother didn't even have the Dark Mark. Draco had come to terms with the fact that he was more than likely doomed.

And doomed men made for poor company.

He would leave Granger to her research and wait upstairs for her to come and go. If she needed anything, she could ask Keys. And Draco would have Keys return her blazer, minus one S.P.E.W. button, whatever S.P.E.W. stood for. That he would keep for himself. Just a small token of their time together. She wouldn't even notice it was gone.

The thought of her hand in his flashed in Draco's mind, and he blushed. He popped the button up and caught it, gripping it tight. He felt the outline of it pressing hard against his palm and fingers. The pain felt good. It was real. She had really been there. This was really hers. Something he could keep to remind him.

Of what?

Of how she'd mistrusted him? Rejected him?

Of the way she'd looked at him when he had spilled his secrets? Her soft brown eyes. Her parted lips...

He released his grip on the button, suddenly afraid he'd bend it, break it. Like he broke everything else in his life.

Just then, Draco heard a distant knock at the front door, and he turned to his bedroom door as if the noise had come from just outside it. He slid the button into his pocket and moved to the door. He pressed his ear to it, listening.

Nothing.

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Draco opened the door just a crack, then wider. Far away, muffled voices from downstairs.

What could it hurt? He wasn't going to see her. Just listen. Just for a moment. Then he would return to his room and wait.

Draco slipped out of his room and down the hall to the staircase. He stood at the top of the stairs and listened to the indistinct melody of her voice carrying up from the foyer. Footsteps. Movement. Her voice trailed away again into nothing. Draco hesitated for an instant, then he padded barefoot down the stairs, listening hard for the sound of Granger's voice.

He was outside of the doors of the library before he knew what he was doing, holding his breath with the effort of listening. Nothing.

Nothing.

Of course nothing. She was there to do research alone. Who would she be talking to aside from Keys, who had clearly already gone?

Draco leaned against the door. She was just there, just on the other side. He could go in.

No.

But he didn't leave either. Now that he was here, he couldn't make himself go.

He would stay, just until his heartbeat slowed. Just until his senses returned to him. He would stay and pretend they were there together, pretend he wasn't alone. Just for a little while.

He stuck his hand into his pocket and held the S.P.E.W. button again.

Hopeless. He was hopeless.

[rememberinggranger]

The walk to the library wasn’t nearly as overwhelming or long as the day prior. As Keys led her down the halls, she watched as the portraits gave smug glances and rolled their eyes as she passed. Hermione avoided eye contact, listening to her footsteps on the marble tile as a distraction, grateful when they approached the double doors of the library.

Keys clicked the door open and passed through, Hermione trailing close after. The room illuminated as they walked in, revealing the dark color pallet wall to wall bookshelves holding vast amounts of information Hermione was itching to dive into.

A sense of belonging washed over her as she passed through the doorway. All over again, she was in awe of the sheer greatness of this library. She took a long inhale, closed her eyes, and welcomed in the scent of inked parchment bound by leather. The scent all too familiar to Hermione Granger. This is where she belonged. Among the books. Surrounded by knowledge she doesn’t yet possess. How powerful she felt knowing that this library was filled with information she has yet to hold knowledge of or understand. She itched to pry them open and spend the rest of her life reading their contents.

As she opened her eyes, she noticed something was missing, though. She’d only been in this room once before and surely didn’t have the layout and decor memorized. Still, she felt a sense of emptiness.

Hermione peered around the room trying to figure out what was missing.

Malfoy.

He hadn’t bothered to greet her. Had she expected him to? Malfoy mentioned he wouldn’t bother her if she returned, but she thought he’d at least say hello. Make sure she’s settled in okay. Pull books for her that were safe to open and read.

Admittedly, Malfoy’s absence was bothering her. But she didn’t have time to understand why. Nor did she need him.

Thankfully, she has Keys!

Hermione turned back around with a polite smile and realized that Keys had already gone. How long ago, she wasn’t sure.

Suddenly, she felt small, the vastness of the library engulfing her. She didn’t dare touch a book without guidance after what happened the day prior.

“Keys?” Her voice evaporated into the room, hoping the house-elf would reappear. She didn’t.

Hermione was unsure how to proceed. Hermione was afraid to move, the books looming around her, turning from friend to foe. Maybe if she went looking for Keys?

She couldn’t very well stand here and do nothing.

The quick decision to leave the library go on a quick search for the house-elf was made before she was able to talk herself out of it. She made her way for the door and when she passed through, a figure stood just on the other side.

Hermione screamed and reflexively pulled out her wand, pressing it to the figures throat. In a panic, she willed her eyes to make sense of the figure. As the image became clearer, she realized it was Draco none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy.” Hermione exclaimed, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. “I was seconds away from petrifying you. What are you doing?”

[nichee-art]

always

[notyorqia]

Entry for @dramioneartbook from December ‘22.

[greencreekwolf]

of course i fell in love with him. he is sopping wet and miserable

[tired-biscuit]

(bangs fist on table) i want him sweaty, whimpering, overstimulated, moaning, sniffling, twitching, squirming, whining, gasping, bucking his hips, drooling, begging (swipes papers onto the floor)

NOW

[rememberinggranger]

I Saw Rise in the Heat

Morning clarity is a funny thing. The start to a new day beckons a decision. One can choose to carry over their previous day. Bring the memories and emotions with them. A continuation. Or, view the new day as a fresh start. Make the conscious decision to forget and wipe the slate clean. Begin anew.

Hermione was desperate for the latter.

Newly risen sunlight beamed into the room through sheer drapes that were stained from wear and time. Specks of dust danced around the morning rays only appearing when shone in the light. The smell of a homely musk filled the room from the wooden furniture and untouched linen in neat piles. Lingering decorations that Percy left behind shared space with the few belongings Hermione brought into the Burrow. On the bedside table sat a framed unmoving photo of her parents on opposite sides, a sizable gap awkwardly settling between them.

A gap where Hermione once stood before she erased herself from their narrative, and with it, her image from the photo.

Faint clattering and Weasley voices seeped into the room. Paired with the scent of sausage and egg, Hermione knew she’d slept in a little later than she intended. She could hear the residence of the burrow hurriedly flitting about, readying themselves for their own respective days.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, fingernails clawing into the mattress below as she tried to suppress the yesterday that lingered.

Today was a new day. She planned to march into that Manor with her head held high, exuding confidence. Malfoy promised not to interfere and she firmly believed it was for the best. She’ll deliver the news that Ron and Harry would like to speak with him and finish her research.

It was a simple plan. A plan she can follow through on.

Except for the fact that every time she closed her eyes, yesterday's events flooded back into her subconscious against her will. Hermione’s perception of Draco Malfoy was eroding. His reputation was diminishing before her, replaced with this new version of Malfoy she’d only just met. The discovery of his softness and how gentle he could be. How much pain he’s endured. The things he was forced to do for the sake of his loved ones. His willingness to keep them safe. To keep her safe.

The shared touch. Both of them, branded. Their silent truce.

It was all too confusing for Hermione to unpack. So she decided not to. Once she was through with the library, this wouldn’t be an issue any longer. He will cease to take up space in her waking thoughts. She will never have to see Draco Malfoy in this capacity, so intimately, ever again. That was a promise.

Hermione stood up, ready to start her day with a new found conviction. She took a few steps on the cold hardwood floor and threw open the doors to the wardrobe. Deciding what to wear came easier today. There wasn’t a need for business attire as Malfoy knew now that she wasn’t there on behalf of the Ministry. She chose a well loved pair of blue jeans and a crimson cashmere jumper. If she was going to be hunched over books for the better half of her day, she’d rather be comfortable and warm.

One glance in the mirror and she realized she had neglected her now frizzing lion's mane that framed her face, puffs and spirals wildly splayed in each direction. The spell-gone-wrong was not kind to her curls. She made the quick decision to deal with it later and twister her locks into a tight bun in the back of her head, a few pieces falling out and framing her face as she did so. Glancing to her small makeup bag, she decided against reaching in. There was no one at the Manor she was trying to impress.

Especially not Draco Malfoy.

With her hand on the bedroom’s doorknob, she exhaled deeply, readying herself for the questions and concerns of her day's agenda, mustering the courage to open the door and walk through.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she was nearly taken down by Ginny who was rushing and donning her Harpies uniform.

“Sorry! I’m late!” The blur of Ginny announced, as she made for the exit, the sound of the front door slamming in her wake.

Hermione looked up toward Ginny’s room and watched as Harry Potter sauntered through the doorway buttoning his shirt. A small giggle bubbled up as Harry stopped in his tracks, eyes wide knowing full well he’d been caught.

“You’re not supposed to be in her room, Harry.” Hermione sang playfully, poking fun. Letting herself joke with her friend if only for a moment.

“What Molly doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Harry countered in a hushed tone, returning Hermione’s amusement.

Hermione pretended to zip her mouth shut and toss the key over her shoulder as they met at the bottom of the stairs, both falling into a hardy laugh.

“Please tell me you’ve changed your mind.” The air of amusement shifted into seriousness. Hermione dropped her smile.

“I haven’t. I’m going alone.”

Hermione didn’t let him say another word. She rushed over to the table, grabbed a slice of toast from the breakfast scraps left behind, slipped into her shoes, and out the front door she went.

Harry’s footsteps were heavy trailing behind her, desperately trying to get a word in before she left. Hermione was keen on ignoring him.

“If you’re not back by dinner, I will not hesitate to come get you, Hermione!” Harry screamed in her direction, but it reached deaf ears.

She took a few steps away from the threshold and vanished from sight, only to reappear among the tall hedges of Malfoy Manor.

As she approached the ominous entrance, a pang of anxiety took hold. She remained strong in her demeanor, not letting her intrusive thoughts sway her. After brushing toast crumbs from her jumper, she knocked on the door and waited to be let inside once more.

[sakughost]

*Draco sighs*

Hermione: What ails you, my little unemployed freeloader?

[rememberinggranger]

Her Monster

It was a quiet and calm evening in the Weasley Burrow. A crackling fire illuminated the dimly lit living room as a warm comfortability settled between the residents who were left awake. The lingering scent of dinner meshed with the scent of woodsmoke as the used dishes clinked together in the kitchen, washing themselves. Though cluttered, the Burrow was inviting and cozy. Something that Hermione grew to love. To need, even.

Molly Wasley lounged on the well loved sofa, Hermione sitting below her on the floor. Hermione’s outstretched hands lay palm up on Molly’s lap as she dripped Dittany on the angry reddened blisters. She barely winced at the pain as the liquified plant healed her fully, restoring her fingertips back to the state they were in before she visited the Manor.

Hermione was exhausted and fatigue was threatening to take her hostage. She embraced the motherly touch that Molly provided and was almost lulled to sleep by it. In her tired state she didn’t notice Ron brooding in the archway leading to the living space and watching over her. Making sure she was okay after the day's events.

“There you go, dear. Good as new.” Molly said with a gentle smile, twisting the dropper back onto the vial.

“Thank you.” Her voice came out broken and sleepy. Molly cupped Hermione’s cheek and she leaned into the touch.

“Now, I’m off to bed. Tell Harry I say hello when he arrives.” 

With that, Molly stood up and started toward her bedroom to retire for the night. Hermione immediately missed the warmth from Molly and wished she could have stayed like that until her embrace washed away the memories of the afternoon she’d spent in the Manor. It was a silly thought. No such thing would happen, even with the most nurturing of embraces.

Hermione hoisted herself up on the couch, her eyes getting heavier by the second. She rubbed her fingers together, reassuring herself that they’ve been restored. Ron slumped into a chair across from her and as he did the familiar tension that started about a month ago took up the empty space in the room.

Hermione hardly noticed this time, though. Her mind kept drifting back to him.

I’m not a monster.

Better.

He could make me hurt.

It was already too late for me.

His words desperate for her to understand. His eyes reflected the loneliness he wanted to escape. His hands… touching her. Hermione allowing it. 

Ejected from her thoughts, Harry Potter bursted through the front door. The scene was so jarring that it made Hermione jump. He slammed the door shut behind him and walked straight to Ron.

“Did you know?” Harry asked, an accusatory finger jabbing in Ron’s direction.

Ron gulped hard and craned his neck backward.

“Yeah.”

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me?” 

“He didn’t tell you because I asked him not to!” Hermione chimed in.

Harry turned his heel to face Hermione and just as he was about to speak, she stopped him, holding her hand up.

“Please, just sit down and let me explain.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and took his pace beside Hermione.

“Everything I've found, everything I’ve researched, all my time spent trying to solve this puzzle, I have come to the same conclusion. A memory charm is irreversible. I cannot…” Hermione paused for a moment, trying to hold back the inevitable tears. “I refuse to believe that this is the end. I will not accept that nothing can be done.”

Hermione turned her gaze downward toward the carpet beneath her feet as she went on.

“I was told that the Malfoy Library has an impressive collection of Dark Arts books. It’s my last hope, Harry. I had to see if I could find anything that might lead me in the right direction. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d stop me, or worse, demand to come with me. I needed to do this on my own.”

“So, what then? Did you find a solution?” Harry asked, his voice calmer now.

Hermione hesitated.

“She got her fingers burnt to a bloody crisp is what she did.” Ron chimed in.

“What?” Anger returning in Harry’s voice.

“It was my fault and I’m fine.” Hermione raised her hands to show her newly healed fingertips.

“I didn’t ask you to come here tonight to chastise me. I need to discuss something with the both of you.” Hermione looked between both Ron and Harry.

“Malfoy-” She stopped short and closed her eyes, realizing now that she hadn’t fully decided whether this was a good idea. It was too late now. “Malfoy shared his perspective on everything that happened last year. He explained how he was forced to become a Death Eater. He’s facing life in Azkaban and he asked me to speak to you two about your testimonies. That I might sway them in his favor.”

All three of them sat in silence for a long moment while Hermione's plea hung in the air.

“Are you mental? Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on Malfoy.” Ron said, aghast and… jealous?

“I’m only adhering to his request.”

Harry rubbed his hands together, turning his attention to the crackling wood in the fireplace. Hermione could practically see his thoughts moving a mile a minute as his face went through a journey of emotions. She was patient, waiting for him to form an opinion. Eventually he turned back to look at her.

“We can’t be sure where his loyalties lie, Hermione.” Was all Harry said.

“I know.”

“I want to speak to him.” Harry announced.

“What?” Ron breathed in disbelief.

“If he wants to explain, I’ll hear him out.”

“Hold on. This is Draco Malfoy we’re talking about, yeah? The same Draco Malfoy who tortured us in school and stood on Voldemort's side in the end?” Ron looked desperately between them, trying to make sense of the situation. “You’re mad if you think I’ll change my testimony in his favor.”

“You don’t have to. I may not. But, no harm can come from an afternoon tea at Malfoy Manor.”

“You hear yourself, right?” 

“Ronald, please.” Hermione breathed.

Ron signed and made eye contact with Hermione for the first time all evening. Hermione held his gaze, her heart skipping, remembering how she used to melt into a puddle when he looked at her like this. It used to feel like they were the only two people in the room. She noticed how it didn’t feel like that anymore.

“Fine.” Ron relented. “I’ll have tea with Malfoy. But I won’t be happy about it.”

Hermione tried to hide the small smile that formed. They’d both just agreed to give Draco a chance and she felt giddy. There was something unexplainable that made her truly believe Draco was ready to start over. His explanation replayed over and over as she drifted to sleep that night. In the morning she’d head back to the Manor. In the morning she’d get to see him again.

[tobringchaos]

𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘰𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦

[raiseyourwandshigh]

[raiseyourwandshigh]

[dracoslibrary]

So It Begins

Draco Malfoy's troubles were never-ending.

While it was true that the trial that had consumed his life for the past — was it truly almost a year? — was finally coming to a close, it was not over yet. His parents had fled Britain to their estate near Bordeaux after their own trials, leaving Draco to manage things at their Wiltshire manor with only an agency house-elf, Keys, for company. He was getting nowhere with the press nor with the Ministry; neither would lift a finger to help him with the dismal public opinion of the Malfoy family. If anything, they were keen to make things harder for him. Last and worst of all, he was quite alone. His school friends had all but abandoned him, and most everyone else he'd known since birth was either dead or locked up in Azkaban.

Draco wasn't used to being alone. Lonely, yes. Of course, lonely. But alone? He had always had his parents at home or his friends at school. Someone. Always someone. Sometimes so many someones that he wanted to scream and fly so far away that no one would ever find him. But as he sat in the morning room of Malfoy Manor drinking tea and pretending to read the same sentence in the Daily Prophet for the fourth time, he could not help but face the fact that he was well and truly on his own.

Except for Keys, but she hardly counted.

It would be one thing if he was in London, in Diagon Alley where he could get out into the bustle of the street. That would be something. But he was stuck in Wiltshire until the conclusion of the trial next Thursday. If all went well, he would get his wand back. He would get his life back. If it didn't go to plan... Well, at least he would know. There would be an end to it. It was the not knowing that was so hard.

The not knowing and the being alone. Draco didn't know which was worse.

He tried reading the same sentence in the Prophet again and failed. His nerves were too frayed. He threw the newspaper aside, then watched a picture of precious Potter and his little posse of Aurors striding in and out of view from the front page. The headline made Draco want to rip the paper in half.

HARRY POTTER BRINGS LESTRANGE TO JUSTICE

Draco's only surviving uncle, Rodolphus Lestrange, had just been sentenced to life in Azkaban. It was a hell of a time for the Ministry to be asking anything of Draco, but he couldn't afford to say no. He was willing to do anything to reconcile his public relations nightmare, even letting a mudblood into the house. And not just any mudblood. The mudblood.

His hand shook as he sipped his tea. It was stone cold. He hardly cared.

Apparently the great Hermione Granger required the use of the Malfoy library. That's what the letter had said. What reason she could possibly have for making such a demand was beyond him, especially since she would most certainly have the whole of the Hogwarts library as well as the Ministry's records at her disposal. Why should she need access to the largest collection of books on the Dark Arts in the country?

Draco told himself not to feel curious about it. There was nothing to be done except to allow it. After all, how could he say no to the Ministry's request on her behalf when they held his liberty by a single thread? It didn't matter why she was coming. It only mattered that today was the day.

Hermione Granger in his home again. Hermione Granger touching his family's things.

Draco stood up. "Keys," he said, and immediately a floppy-eared house-elf with a button nose and a tea towel toga appeared before him.

"Sir called for Keys?"

"I'll be in the garden. Find me when she gets here."

The house-elf bowed as Draco moved past her. He couldn't do much to blow off steam, but he could train, and that's exactly what he would do until the mudblood was at his door.

[rememberinggranger]

Stagnant is where Hermione Granger finds herself. Unmoving; basking in the greatness of the manor before her. The amount of preparation she had undergone was no match for the utter betrayal of her body at this moment.

A year had passed since Hermione was last inside Malfoy Manor. The last time she was here was under different circumstances.

Since then, Hermione had returned to Hogwarts to help rebuild, finish her seventh year, and take her N.E.W.T.s - to which she scored an outstanding and exceeds expectations on all seven. 

Without a home to go back to, Hermione has divided her time equally between Hogwarts and the Weasley burrow, once it was revived back to its original state. Days were spent with her nose in a book and quill on parchment, taking in all the information she needed to score well on her exams. It kept her busy and her mind focused on anything other than the shell shock and profound sorrow the year prior had put her through. She did everything in her power to keep busy so she wouldn’t think about the her lost loved ones, their brutal fight to the very end, and torture… she had endured on the floors of the mansion that loomed over her.

Absent-mindedly, she grabbed her forearm where the word mudblood had been carved into her skin. Flashbacks of the pain ensued by the cruciatus replayed in her mind without permission. Goosebumps rose as they always did when she let herself go back to that day, her body reacting to the memory of pain and agony.

Hermione shut her eyes tight to keep from panicking and she took three long, deep breaths. Her fear easing with every exhale.

“You can do this.” She reassured herself, taking a few brave steps up the stairs and approaching the ostentatious door.

After graduating, her life plan was clear. Become a member of the Ministry and infiltrate from the inside in hopes that she can make the Wizarding World a more accepting place for those who are discriminated against. Inclusivity for all creatures! It was a mighty goal, but one that Hermione was sure she could achieve.

After humbly accepting a position within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, there was one thing she had to do before she could execute her grand scheme to take over the Ministry for good. 

The decision to obliviate her parent’s memories was made to keep them safe throughout the second wizarding war. Though it caused her extreme hardship, she was confident that she could figure out a way to reverse the charm after the fact. However, her quest had become something of a treasure hunt.

Books have always given her the answers, but through her research, she’s come up short every time. Three days ago, she had officially run out of options but her determination never dwindled. She started cleverly picking the brains of anyone who would listen within the Ministry walls which is when she was given the idea to check the Mafloy’s library. Their library had an impressive collection of Dark Arts books, or so she was told. At first, Hermione shook off the idea. Malfoy manor was the last place she wanted to be and Draco… she simply couldn’t face him. But as she had absolutely no leads after weeks, it seemed to be her last option. And Hermione would do anything to get her parents back.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She reclined her hand from the door after her three hearty knocks and cleared her throat, her heart racing in her chest. Behind the door she heard a scurrying, and turned off a lock, and saw a small house-elf craning the large heavy door open with a grunt. 

“Ms. Granger. Come in.” The house elf billowed, and opened the door only wide enough for her to enter through, then with another grunt, closed the door behind her. 

Hermione desperately tried to open her mouth and thank the elf, but nothing came out. Her eyes chose a tile on the floor, and there they stayed affixed, not daring to look around. 

“Wait here.” The elf announced before scurrying off.  She took quick short breaths and repeated, you are safe now, a few times in her head. A tactic that helped when her anxiety was high. She smoothed her blazer and realized she still had her S.P.E.W. button pinned proudly on her chest. She quickly removed it and stuck it in a pocket, waiting for someone to escort her to the library so she could get on with her research and leave this manor as quickly as possible.

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at the booming voice of Draco Malfoy as it reverberated throughout the foyer. Arrogance surrounded him and bled out through his words just as she remembered.

Her S.P.E.W button sprung out of her breast pocket as if it was also frightened. As it made its dramatic descent to the tiled floor below, it seemed as if time stopped around it. Hermione was now watching her mistake happen in slow motion and having no way to stop it. The clatter of the plastic emitted a louder noise than she was prepared for. They both watched as the button settled neatly on the floor.

The situation was comical really. She couldn’t help but think about the irony of this button being on the manor floors of that family. A soft chuckle escaped as she stood looking at the abandoned button. The chuckle melded into a laugh and then to a full-on belly laugh. And it felt good. It felt freeing to find humor in something, even a small something. So she allowed herself this moment of happiness, however fleeting.

It was then that she met Draco’s eyes. The same eyes she grew up with. The same eyes behind the relentless bullying in school. The same eyes that stood by and did nothing as she screamed out for help being tortured at the hands of his own aunt.

Suddenly, the humor in the situation evaporated and flitted away into the staunch air the Malfoy Manor held. Hermione cleared her throat, bent down to retrieve her lost item, undid her blazer, and found a much safer home in the jetted pocket.

“I apologize.” She announced to the room, and redid her blazer.

Hermione took a moment to regroup. She straightened her back and clasped her hands together. A wave of nerves shot through her spine as Draco stood, not knowing what to make of her. Perhaps he thinks she went insane over the past year.

What did he know of her these days? Did he think of her before her request? Was he still harboring disdain for her? Oh course he was. She’d helped put half his family in Azkaban, afterall.

The last time they were in the same room was during her testimony, though she couldn’t bear to look at him. Keeping up with the Prophet, she’s aware of his family's trials and that his own trial is still pending. Rumors have spread around the Ministry about his parents leaving him to fend for himself. Perhaps they had a similarity, both longing for their parents' love, though, in different ways.

Absolutely not - no - no way was she letting her mind wander to empathy for Draco Malfoy. He wasn’t deserving of it. His opinions about her didn’t matter. All that mattered in this moment was his family's library.

“As you know,” Hermione started, her voice shaking. “I was sent on the Ministry's behalf to have a look through your library. Now if you don’t mind escorting me, I promise to be efficient and be out of your hair as quickly as possible.”

By the end of her practiced spiel, she became more confident and put together, as a proper witch of the Ministry should be.

[dracoslibrary]

Granger jumped at the sound of his voice, and Draco's smile stiffened as he suppressed a laugh. Not so high and mighty after all. She was nervous. Well, why shouldn't she be? He was a Death Eater.

His heart sank, and the smile on his face faltered. No matter what he did from now on, that was all the world would ever see him as. A dangerous criminal. Even if his trial ended as happily for him as it had for his parents, that stain would mark him forever.

Very suddenly, whatever Granger had put into her pocket fell out again onto the checkered marble floor and, inexplicably, Granger began to laugh. It was a true laugh, but a laugh that came from somewhere dark into the light. Draco understood a laugh like that all too well. Hadn't he laughed himself to tears over cutting his chin while shaving only that morning? How funny for a full-grown wizard to still be using a straight razor. How funny for Draco Malfoy of all people to be without his wand.

Granger must have seen something of the gallows humour in his eyes because she suddenly became serious. Perhaps she thought he was laughing at her.

Who cares what she thinks? he thought. What is she even doing here really?

As he watched, Granger bent to retrieve the — button, perhaps? — from the floor. Then she apologized, and Draco nearly laughed again. The thought of Hermione bloody Granger apologizing to him was too much. A sense of unreality settled over him. He would have thought he was dreaming, but he could never have thought up anything so ridiculous, so outlandish, as an apology from the mudblood.

From Granger. Now that she was standing right in front of him, he couldn't quite muster the nerve to think of her as "the mudblood" anymore. It felt wrong somehow. And the fact that it felt wrong also felt wrong. Draco passed a few moments in paralyzing confusion before Granger spoke again.

Her voice shook at first. It actually shook. The echoes in the foyer left no doubt about that, though she seemed to find her footing by the end of her little speech.

And she promised to be out of his way soon. Draco wasn't sure how he felt about that. Alone in the manor for days at a time with no one but Keys for company was no way to live. Then again, would having Granger around be any better? Only one way to find out.

"Of course," Draco said sardonically with an inclination of his head. "Anything for the Ministry." Then he turned on his heels and began to walk.

He didn't take the most direct route possible to the library. He wanted to avoid the portrait gallery where any one of his many ancestors may see what he was doing and run to tattle on him to his parents. He couldn't be sure the portraits knew what Granger looked like, but he wasn't willing to take that chance. It wasn't as if he'd had much of a choice in her being here. The last thing he wanted was an angry letter from his parents about it. Better to avoid as many portraits as possible along the way.

Though he wasn't often grateful for Keys, Draco had to admit as he walked through the corridors that the manor looked presentable again. At least Granger wasn't seeing the place as it was when the Death Eaters had left it. A shambles. Practically a ruin of its former grandeur. They had torn apart his family's home without a thought.

Now, however, the furniture was polished and the grand mirror in the hall repaired. The singe holes in the tapestries leading through to the west wing had been mended. The heavy curtains along their route had all been opened to let in the light. Even the parquet wood floors had been scrubbed to a shine. Yes, Keys was a decent house-elf. For once, Draco felt glad for her presence instead of merely tolerating it. He didn't have to feel embarrassed about his home. That was a small mercy, and he had Keys to thank for it.

Draco approached the double doors of the library and opened them with a flourish. Inside, he spread his arms wide as wall sconces illuminated themselves between the bookcases and several large globes hanging from a ceiling painted with constellations sputtered to light. It was an impressive room, and he knew it. He had spent all his life in this library, but he tried to see it as if for the first time through Granger's eyes.

Two storeys high with a spiral staircase at the centre of the room, the library represented centuries of careful curation and was the pride of his family alongside their vineyards in France. Carved wood panelling between the shelves and shelves of books gave the room a certain quiet warmth. Forest green curtains with black fringes and silver fastenings hung in the tall, mullioned windows where high-backed chairs stood together in twos and threes divided by little ornate side tables. It was a beautiful place, though Draco knew that it was also a dangerous place. One could get lost, and if one opened the wrong book in this library, one might never be found again.

Draco turned back to the entrance of the library and levelled his gaze at Granger. "Where do you want to start?"

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione was desperate.

Desperate to keep this interaction professional. Desperate to get her emotions under control. Desperate to see this leg of her journey through, however painful.

But the sarcasm.

It was silly of her to think that he would be any different. He was Draco Malfoy after all. The boy who couldn’t resist making others feel inferior to boost his self confidence. 

No, not boy. He was a man now. A Death Eater. 

Fear prickled up Hermione’s spine as they weaved in and out of rooms and corridors. She suddenly became acutely aware that she was alone with a known Death Eater. Anxiety rose like a title wave, threatening to come crashing down and ruin the pleasant demeanor she made quick work to affix. Questions bubbled up in its wake. What if this was all a trap? What if Draco was tasked to kill her and she gave him the perfect opportunity? Even without a leader and half the following, would the Death Eaters continue their torment? Perhaps she should have taken Ron’s offer to come with her.

Ron. She wasn’t sure if his presence would help or hinder, so she declined. Seeing him around the burrow was hard enough now-a-days without him being involved in something so personal. Though, she’s sure Ron is a tangled mess of nerves right now knowing where she is and who she’s with. Fighting the urge to apparate. It was sweet knowing how much he cared for her.

Hermione monitored Draco as he walked, her hand finding a home on the silk lining of her blazer where her wand was sheathed. He was taller than she remembered. His outgrown hair was tousled and slightly damp, she noticed. At this moment, she couldn’t remember the last time she was this close to Draco Malfoy. Close enough to watch his shirt move simultaneously with each step. To smell the musk he was emitting as he walked.

The only sound they were making was their shoes on the marbled flooring. The walk seemed extensive, even for a manor of this size. As Hermione walked she noticed how bare the manor seemed. The only thing giving life to this desolate estate was Draco and the house-elf. She read an article in the Profit claiming that Lucious and Narsissa fled after their trials. It looked as if there was truthfulness to that article and is truly meant to deal with his own trial alone.

Her daydreams came to a halt when they reached double doors and Draco threw them open. 

As she stepped inside the library she came to a quick realization that this had to be the most beautiful room she’d ever seen. Her mouth hung open as she walked past Draco and scanned the entirety of the room, not wanting to miss a single detail. As the room illuminated she couldn’t help but run her fingers over a line of books on the nearest bookcase. To have access to a library of this magnitude was something Hermione couldn’t comprehend.

At Draco’s question she turned back to him to answer. When she did, the memory of him watching idly as Bellatrix tormented her on the same cold flooring that was beneath her feet flashed quickly. She gasped and stumbled back a few steps before the image refocused back to the present. Her breath became labored as she came down from the flashback and she turned her back toward Draco to try and hide her dismay. 

“Anything that has to do with memory charms.” Her voice shook as she answered.

She walked behind a bookshelf, pretending to browse, and tried not to spiral into a panic attack that was often attached when these memories resurfaced.

“I am capable of searching alone.” Her voice raised so that he could hear her from behind the shelving. 

As a comfort, she unsheathed her wand and clasped both hands around it. She melted to the ground and took a seat as tears threatened to fall.

You are safe now. You are safe now. You are safe now.

[dracoslibrary]

Draco almost did it. He almost left her there to fend for herself in what might have been one of the world's most dangerous libraries.

Granger thought she knew everything. Let her try her luck against these books. Some had fangs. Some were poisonous to read. One manifested runespoors that would attack the unwary reader. One even required a blood sacrifice before text would appear on its pages. No, this library was not a safe place. Let her find out for herself.

He was halfway to the door when he stopped. As much as he would have liked to, he couldn't just leave Granger alone with the books. If she went missing at Malfoy Manor, he could kiss what little freedom he had left goodbye. The remainder of his trial would be a foregone conclusion. Draco couldn't afford for something bad to happen to Granger, and the idea of that was as frustrating as it was inevitable. Leave it to Granger to put him in the intolerable situation of having to actually help her.

"That's a pretty specific..." Draco started, rounding the corner of the bookcase to find Granger on the ground, her wand held out in front of her like a lantern in a storm. "Request," he finished. "What are you doing?"

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione turned her glare toward Draco as he rounded the corner and asked what she was doing. She didn’t expect compassion. Not from him, anyways. Nor was she willing to explain how much this manor was affecting her.

One single dramatic tear cascaded down her face as Hermione rose to her feet, her knuckles whitening around her wand. Wrath was boiling over, ready to spill out.

“Did you hear me? I said I’m capable on my own.” Venom seeped into her words.

She let the anger fester, desperate to find the source. She concluded to one single root of her rage. Draco Malfoy. From the torment she endured while they were just children at Hogwarts. The fact that his family largely contributed to the reason she had to erase her parents’ memories. His cowardice eyes that watched her succumb to torture. Presently, because she needs his help to resolve her biggest regret.

“If you do not trust me alone please send your house-elf to monitor. I’m sure she would be better company than you.”

To make a point, Hermione grabbed the first book in her reach. She pushed past Draco, making sure to check him with her shoulder as she did. Headed for seating, she opened the book to start her research when suddenly a heat rose from just under her fingers as she turned the first page. 

With a shout of pain, Hermione hastily dropped the book as it billowed flame and smoke and clambered to the floor. She took a few steps back and pointed her wand at the book.

“Aguamenti!”

It was a spell that she’s used more times than she could count. A spell she mastered well before anyone else in her charms class. But this time, the spray seemed to have a mind of its own. What is usually a small controllable stream was now a gush of wetness, spritzing water wildly in every direction. Luckily she was able to snuff out the fire that was threatening to burn down the entire manor, but in its wake it also doused everything in the immediate area including herself and Draco.

Hermione stood there dumbfounded and drenched, taking a moment to fully grasp what just happened.

[dracoslibrary]

Draco spluttered, and his soaked clothes clung to him as he sloshed in soggy shoes over to the book that still smouldered on the parquet wood floor. As he suspected, it was Ignatius Hellbent's Incendiarium. It was no longer on fire, but neither did it appear to be wet or damaged in any way. Instead, it steamed like a merry teapot, apparently well-pleased with itself.

He stared around at the charred and dripping bindings of the books on the shelves around them, listening to the deafening silence in the wake of a disaster averted. If Granger had ruined any of the priceless books in this library, there would be hell to pay. He would rip that wand out of her white-knuckled hands and make her regret the day she dared darken his doorstep. This was his family's legacy. This was his inheritance.

It hadn't occurred to him that swotty Hermione Granger would destroy books. He would never have agreed to this little farce had he known she could be so careless.

Draco rounded on Granger. He took a measured step toward her, then another, stalking forward with a rage building in him every bit as white-hot as the fire spells in the Incendiarium. His jaw clenched as his gaze burned into her.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

[rememberinggranger]

This wasn’t right. Hermione didn’t make mistakes with her magic. She studied and trained too hard to be losing control of her wand. Indeed she was lucky that this didn’t become a dangerous situation… but the books. It was against everything in her moral compass to do harm to books. Even if they came from the Malfoy manor. Even if they caused harm to her.

Drenched to the bone, wet fabric clung to her skin. Her wavy ringlets were straightened by the heaviness of the water. What little makeup she had on was surely melting down her face leaving smears of black. Her shoes sloshed as she readjusted her stance, uncomfortability settling in.

The sound of water droplets echoed through the library as newly formed puddles pooled, ever expanding as the chaos settled. Hermione rubbed the excess wet out of her eyes and when she did, winced in pain. The tips of her fingers started forming blisters from the fire. She held up a shaky hand to inspect the damage while she tried to formulate a plan to right this wrong.

It didn’t occur to her to check on Draco until she heard his sloshing footsteps through the settled puddles. When she looked up he was stalking toward her, seeing red. Hermione’s heartbeat quickened as Draco drew near, like a predictor hunting his prey.

She took a few steps back from him and extended her wand in defense. It was an empty promise. She would never use magic against someone seemingly defenseless. Then again, his demeanor threatened violence.

“Stay back.” She announced firmly, her wand becoming an extension of her arm. “Please don’t hurt me.”

The plea was uttered just above a whisper, fear evident in her voice.

When he spoke, it was as if he was breathing fire.

“What have I done?” Hermione rebutted, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that she can see right through his shirt. “What have you done? This would not have happened if you had told me these books were charmed. This is your fault, Draco Malfoy. I will not take the blame for this.”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco stopped an inch away from the tip of Granger's wand. His hands were balled into fists. His heart pounded and his ears rang with her words.

"My fault? My fault? Look around, you crazy bint. You did this. I barely had a chance to get a word in before you went off grabbing the first book you saw." He slapped her wand away from his chest and leaned in. Her make-up ran down her face from her wide eyes, and he could feel her breath heaving hard against his cheeks. It was closer than he could ever remember being to Granger. How he loathed her.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?"

[rememberinggranger]

As Draco walked closer, her heart quickened pace and it felt like it might explode. She didn’t protest when he slapped her wand away, knowing full well she wouldn’t have used it.

For a moment, she was struck with genuine fear. But as he leaned in, the fear melded into something unfamiliar to their distaste for one another. She let out and involuntarily gasp as his mouth drew closer to her ear. Drops of water fell from his dripping form onto her neck and chest. Hermione was losing focus.

His voice was husky as he spoke and she let out a sharp breath. Had she ever been this close to Draco Malfoy? Perhaps the only time she’d had was when she punched him their third year.

He was different now. The cowardice that befell him wasn’t present today. Either that or anger overtook that side of him.

She let him stay close for far too long, her chest raising and falling in tandem with his. The closeness they shared sparked an excitement within her that she couldn’t fully comprehend. Her body started to shiver, and she wondered if it was from her soaked clothes or something else.

She gently placed her hand on his chest and pushed herself away from him, breaking from whatever trance she fell into.

Looking around at the now settled Aguamenti disaster, she knew he was right and loathed him for being so.

“Fine.” Hermione relented, wrapping her arms around her body to subside the shivering. “Though I will not take full blame. You should have mentioned it the second we walked in.”

She avoided his eye contact as she spoke.

“I’m sure everything can be restored and I will help you. Not for your sake, but because I won’t let beautiful, historical books go to waste because my wand decided to act up.”

[dracoslibrary]

She touched his chest, and he felt her shaking through the palm her her hand. It was warm. He had never imagined her so warm. His breath hitched and his eyes closed for just a moment. A long moment.

Something. There was something wrong about this moment. Draco's heart thudded in his ears so loudly that he almost missed her words. The sound of her voice was... his tongue darted out to slide along his lower lip. Suddenly he was very aware of a buzzing electricity in his body, of his soaking white shirt hanging off of his muscled frame.

Did she notice? Was she as distracted as he was?

Then her hand was gone and Draco almost fell forward in its absence.

What had she said? Had she just agreed with him?

Draco opened his eyes again. He cleared his throat. He stood up straight.

Granger was hugging herself. She hadn't noticed his momentary lapse in judgement. She didn't care that he had... Had he? No. Surely not.

Draco had not thought about Granger in that way. He hadn't thought how that hand would feel sliding over his chest, plucking at the buttons of his shirt. He hadn't thought of her approaching him, closing the distance. What he would do. What she might allow...

No. She was talking about the books. Fuck the books.

No. Wait. She had scorched and then drenched more than two dozen books in his precious library with her ridiculous antics. Granger had done that. This Granger in front of him.

She was distracting him. This was her fault. He couldn't think straight with her so close.

With a great effort, he took a few steps back. "The books," he said stupidly. "Yes." He cleared his throat again. "You're bloody right you'll fix this. And then you'll go."

[rememberinggranger]

Panic shot through her when he demanded she go, far before she was ready. Briefly, she forgot why she was here in the first place. From the moment she stepped foot in this manor it felt like chaos was following her. She prided herself in being an extremely put together woman, and now she was losing her mind in the presence of her mortal enemy.

“No, I can’t leave until I’ve finished my research.” She pleaded, “I can’t even begin to explain how important this is. I understand I caused harm but I will put things right if you only let me stay.”

Desperation was in her voice, but she didn’t care. This could very well be her last hope in returning her parents memory.

“Anyways, I’m the one with a wand. You need my help unless you have a hair dryer on hand.”

A bit of a dig, sure. She’ll have a laugh as he tries to figure out what a hair dryer is.

Just then, Keys sulked through the library’s entrance and stopped dead in her tracks, seeing the disarray.

“Is Keys needed, sir?”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco nearly sighed audibly in relief at the appearance of the house-elf in the library. He supposed he wouldn't be needing Granger's help after all. Or a "hair dryer," whatever that was. That freed him up to get to the bottom of what the bloody hell was going on.

"Keys," he said, "see to this mess." He gestured vaguely at the damaged books. Keys gave a curt nod and got to work.

Draco turned his piercing grey gaze back to Granger. "You. Explain. What research? I thought you were here on behalf of the Ministry." He pulled the Ministry's letter—a little damper than he would have liked, but still legible—out of his back pocket and tossed the tri-folded parchment onto one of the library's little tables between them. "What is going on? The truth, Granger."

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione eyed Draco after his demand toward the elf, furrowing her brow with distaste.

“Thank you, Keys.” She said to the house-elf before she got to work drying the area around them.

When Draco turned back to her, butterflies manifested in her gut, flitting about careless to whom was making her fluster. Was it lingering fear? Surely that’s the explanation to why Hermione suddenly felt tingly. Not his grey eyes she fear she might get lost in.

Focus.

She nearly cursed herself for revealing why she’d made a request through the ministry to use his library. She watched as Draco tossed the request parchment onto the table between them, likely worded professionally with little to no information as to why.

Conflict rose from within her. Once revealed, Draco likely wouldn’t care about her problems. But it was so personal to her and difficult to talk about without becoming emotional.

With a sigh, she softened.

“I-“ She dipped her head and cast her gaze down to her shoes. “I’m not sure why it should matter to you, but I need to reverse a memory charm.”

That’s all she was going to say, but as she squashed around in damp shoes, she made the decision to concede.

“I erased my parents memories of me before… well you know. I wanted to keep them safe in case Death Eaters-“ she looked up at him to see his reaction, “tried harming them.”

With a deep breath she continued, “I also didn’t want them to feel loss if I died protecting Harry.”

She put a hand up in defense of her next statement.

“And please, don’t tell me it’s irreversible. I’ve been told numerous times by so many people. But there must to be a way. There has to because if there isn’t…”

She trailed off, not daring to finish that sentence as tears started to well.

“So please, I beg of you Draco. Do not usher me out. This, your library, it is my last hope.”

[dracoslibrary]

She was going to cry. Granger was begging him for help, and she was actually going to cry. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have been doing a jig.

But she looked so pitiful, and he felt an emptiness in the well of his gut when he thought of sending her away now. Why? Why did he care?

Because, he told himself, she was his ticket out of his mess with his trial. The warm excitement of an idea settled over Draco's chest. With Granger's good opinion secured, he was practically guaranteed a verdict of not guilty. She just had to get the rest of her friends who were slated to testify to speak in his favour, and how hard would that be for the smartest witch he'd ever known? Not that he would ever tell her that.

What he would tell her were his terms. Draco chose his next words carefully.

"You want my library. I want my freedom," he said. "All I care about is getting my life back. You help me with my trial, and I'll help you navigate this library. And I won't write to the Daily Prophet about what you just told me about your parents."

Just then, Keys blasted Draco all over with hot air, drying him off in an instant but leaving him a bit bewildered and more than a little indignant at the abruptness of Keys' magic. But he controlled his annoyance, reaching up to comb his hair back with his fingers and enjoying the sensation of being dry again.

Draco looked around at the library. The only thing left out of order was the Incendiarium still lying on the floor. Keys knew better than to touch a book from this library. Smart elf.

Draco walked over and picked up the still slightly steaming book. He replaced it on the shelf, then turned back to face Granger.

"So. Do we have a deal?"

[rememberinggranger]

Silly of Hermione to think that a Malfoy would have any empathy. Silly of Hermione to open her heart to him in hopes that he would be compassionate about her situation. Unfortunately she couldn’t take it back now. All of her cards were on the table.

If the Profit caught wind of this, there would be backlash. Everyone knew that using magic on or around non-magic folk was strictly forbidden. It is a punishable offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t technically graduated Hogwarts and was using magic outside of school. The Ministry was kind enough to turn the other cheek when she confessed and asked for guidance, but the public might not be as forgiving. It could hinder her future opportunities, or worse, force the Ministry to reconsider.

Then again, who would believe a known Death Eater who is awaiting trial. That last thought almost made her laugh. Who was she kidding. They’d publish any scandal that came their way, true or not. Especially about a Seconding Wizard War hero. Oh what gossip that article would stir.

She didn’t answer his proposition immediately. Instead she made an internal pro con list. If she agreed, Ron and Harry would be furious with her. Helping Draco Malfoy. The villain in their story. It seemed too ridiculous to even think about.

On the other hand… her parents. The blackmail Draco threatened.

Deep in decision making, she didn’t even notice the elf that appeared beside Draco, blasting him with dry air. She looked around at the books she’d nearly destroyed and they seemed to be restored back to their original conditions. She let out a sigh of relief as a now dry Draco place the charmed book back in its home.

Keys started toward Hermione and she held her hands out in protest.

“Oh no, I can do it-“

But she spoke a little too late and Keys blasted her with the same hot air. It nearly blew her shirt and blazer clean off. She clasped her shirt together until the elf felt like she was dry enough and let off.

“Thank you.” Hermione said, feeling more comfortable already.

She can only imagine the puff ball that now lay on top of her head. She gathered her hair and wrapped it a few times. Skillfully, she weaved her wand through the bun she crated until it was stuck in place. She did her best to wipe the streams of mascara from her face without a mirror to help guide her.

When he asked if they had a deal, she had not yet decided.

“Help… how?”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco watched Granger skillfully trap her unruly hair into a messy bun and wipe the faint make-up streaks from her cheeks. In moments, she was presentable again. More than presentable.

He looked away and composed his face into a mask of indifference as Granger asked how she could help him. It wasn't possible for him to be thinking of Granger as anything other than a know-it-all mudblood with delusions of her own importance. It wasn't possible for him to care about her problems or priorities. So he simply wouldn't. He wouldn't care.

"Keys," Draco snapped. "Bring tea."

Keys didn't hesitate; she disappeared with a pop that left a ringing silence in its wake.

Draco gazed at the spines of the books in the nearest bookcase and thought about how to reply to her question. How. How could she help him? The idea of Granger helping him was laughable. It simply shouldn't be. But he had to take it seriously. Because without her, his future was uncertain. With her, he stood a chance. As disgusting as it was, he would have to play nice. He would have to get this girl on his side.

She was a bleeding heart. It should be easy. Though he'd already bungled things by threatening her with exposure. He would have to rectify that. Tactics, tactics. He hadn't been playing the game before. He was playing now.

"I'm alone here. My parents are gone. It's just me and the elf," Draco began. He dropped his pretence of composure, allowed the fear and uncertainty of the last year to show on his face. His lips parted, turned down in a frown. He made his eyes wide and sad. "And I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what will happen to me next week at the trial. Weasley and Potter haven't testified yet. I need your help getting them to see my side of things. I just want the chance to explain..." He broke off, his voice too full of emotion to continue, and he began to wonder how much of his little performance was, in fact, real.

Too much, he decided. He didn't want to reveal too much all at once.

Lure her in. Make her listen. Gain her sympathy.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He almost didn't want to look at her, was almost afraid of what he would find when he did, but he forced himself to turn and face her.

Give her the truth. Just a little of it. Just a hint.

"I don't... I don't want to be on my own anymore."

[rememberinggranger]

“Your side of things? Explain?” Hermione breathed, her brow furrowed and voice laced with disbelief. When he turned back around she made sure not to break eye contact so he could see how disgusted she was at this proposition.

“You must be joking, Malfoy.” Using his last name in vein was a reminder to herself of where his loyalties lie.

“After everything you’ve done. What exactly do you have to explain?“

But as she studied him closer, she could see the pain and loneliness in his eyes. The softness that fell upon him as he spoke. Watching his parents flee before his final trial is… heartbreaking. No child should ever have to endure selfishness through their parents.

Hermione, no.

Feeling empathy for the man who aided in the loss of loved ones? Was she mad?

Memories of Dumbledore echoed through her mind, like a lighthouse that guided her home. Fred. Dobby. Lupin and Tonks. Her parents memories. Harry, nearly.

All for the sake of purification and the execution of her own kind. Those born to muggles. Those who were “dirty”.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes in frustration.

“Help me to understand. You want me to convince my…” she paused, reminding herself of her relationship with Ron. “friends to speak on your behalf after years of torment. After all the hardship you caused us. How in Merlin’s name do you suggest I achieve this goal?”

Her eyes flicked downward to his forearm, a hint of black from his mark shown through his dress shirt. She knew exactly where his moral compass pointed.

[dracoslibrary]

Not so gullible after all. And Draco didn't miss her glance at his left forearm, either. Granger was nobody's fool.

Damn.

Draco tried again. He held his hands out in an open gesture as if inviting her in, and he let his mask slip a little further. The grief and pain he held dammed back every moment of every day flooded in. It washed his face over with misery and guilt and heartache. He let it break inside him like waves in a storm. He let it course through his veins until his muscles ached to run, run, run.

He stayed put. He forced himself to talk.

Talk.

"We might not have been... friendly... at school, but does that mean I deserve to go to Azkaban for the rest of my life? I wasn't... Look, this is hard for me. The last few years have been... difficult. You have no idea."

This wasn't working. She would never believe him. He would never get through to her. Hopelessness twisted in his chest.

In a rush, he ripped at the button of his sleeve and bunched up the fabric obscuring the Dark Mark until it lay naked before her gaze. He couldn't look at it, the thing that had burned and writhed on his arm, the mark that had sealed his fate so long ago. Nausea curdled in his stomach.

He hated it. He hated it.

"You think I wanted this? I didn't want—" His voice broke. Words failed. He stared at her with pleading eyes, willing her to understand.

He was suddenly so tired. He just wanted it to end.

Draco couldn't play this game anymore, not even for a few minutes. There was almost nothing of his old self left, despite what he pretended. He was too broken. He was too ruined.

He didn't want her help. He needed it.

Draco held his breath. And waited.

[rememberinggranger]

Despite her best efforts, Hermione’s heart twisted into a knot as Draco poured his out. Compassion encompassed her critical thinking as it so often did. Hermione’s hamartia.

She watched his desperation as he dug his Dark Mark out from underneath fabric and put it on display. It took everything in her not to flinch, remembering how long she had to look at Bellatrix’ matching symbol while she had her way with Hermione.

Without warning, she started taking steps toward him. This was a decision her body made on its own. Slowly, she closed the distance between them. She wanted to see the mark that was branded on him up close. She wanted to see the mark that she’s been so afraid of for years.

When they were mere inches apart she absentmindedly traced the snake from its head to the skull affixed on top with her scorched fingertips. Her touch so gentle, his skin tickled underneath hers. She felt electricity between them. Enough for goose-pimples to rise on her skin. Could he feel it too?

She was relieved to find out that the Dark Mark alone couldn’t hurt her. It was the human attached to the brand that had all the power.

“You didn’t want this?” She asked, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes, her own eyes wide, desperate for clarification.

[dracoslibrary]

His eyes didn't leave hers as Draco placed his hand gently over Granger's to stop her tracing the Mark.

"Don't," he said, so low it was barely a whisper.

He couldn't bear to have her touching it. The agony, the shame of it was too much. He turned his arm over so that he wouldn't have to look at the thing, and, as if in response to his desire to have it out of his sight, the fabric of his sleeve slid down over the Mark, mostly obscuring it.

Draco held Granger's hand in his and noticed the angry red blisters forming on her fingers for the first time. He turned her hand over slowly, carefully, cradling it in his own as he examined it.

"You're hurt."

If he'd had his wand—but of course, he didn't have his wand. He did have Dittany in the house. He didn't bother to offer. He had no doubt Granger could heal herself much more effectively than any dose of Dittany.

In the back of his mind, he realized how insane this was. He shouldn't be touching Granger at all. She shouldn't be so close. He shouldn't want her there. But he was so alone, and he was so afraid.

"No," he said into the silence settling between them. "No, I didn't want this."

[rememberinggranger]

The knot that entangled her heart tightened at his touch. Without even a glance he removed the mark from sight as if he couldn’t bare to look at it. His agony engulfed them and almost suffocated Hermione. These emotions were real. He was being honest. Hermione’s heart bled out.

Instead of shying away from her touch, he embraced it. Whatever walls she’d built were crumbling down as she watched him turn her hands over to examine the burns, the only evidence left of her little accident. Concern was genuinely displayed on his face. Concern. For a mudblood.

Something was different now. He was different. Her thoughts raced trying to accept that Malfoy didn’t want to become a Death Eater. That’s all he’d ever been to her. An evil that she tried to fight for years. Until the end of it all. Now he stood inches away from her, their hands intertwined in each others. Both of them broken, bruised, and branded.

Hermione recoiled her hands from his, immediately missing his touch in its absence. She shimmied off her blazer and placed it nicely on the arm of the closest chair. Carefully, she unbuttoned the silk at her wrist and rolled the arm of her blouse up neatly. The paused for a moment before turning her forearm over and displaying her scar. Her own brand.

She grabbed Draco’s hand and placed it gently on top of the letters. Part of her hoped that seeing her scar would hurt him. That it a would make him feel ashamed and uncomfortable. He knows where it came from. He was there, after all.

“I understand. More than you know. Being back here in your manor is agonizing. I can’t get that day out of my mind. Laying on the cold floor in excruciating pain. Being tortured and branded by…” He knew. “I am different. I’m not the same brilliant bookworm you grew up with. I am broken now.”

She expected tears to be paired with these words, but all she felt was emptiness. Exhaustion falling over her. Her chest hollow.

Just then, Keys popped back into the room with a cacophony of porcelain clanking. With a gasp, Hermione side stepped away from him, letting his hand drop. Her heart started racing as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

Was she doing something wrong?

Hermione cleared her throat, unrolled her sleeve, and walked over to where the tea tray was placed. She gave a curt thank you to Keys. Her walls rebuilding.

“Admittedly, I’m unsure if helping you is a wise decision.” She announced, finding herself for the first time since being in the manor. Her normal level-headed politeness returning to her.

“However, you’ve caught me in an extremely weakened state and I’ll do anything to figure out how to get my parents back, blackmail or not.” She sat down across from the tea tray and cast her gaze up at Malfoy. “I will speak to the boys on your behalf but I cannot promise anything. You are… not their favorite person. As you well know.”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco's fingers itched to touch her again, anywhere, anywhere. The curls of her hair and the silk of her shirt shone in the lamplight, and he wanted... he didn't know what, but he nearly shook with the wanting of it.

Calm down.

Fear and shame and regret scratched and grated at his insides from what she'd shown him, but there was something so endearing about Granger jumping at the arrival of Keys that he almost laughed. She was adorable. How had he never noticed? How could he feel so many disparate things at the same time?

Then she was all business, talking to him as if they hadn't just shared the most intimate moment of his life. Her lips moving. Her eyes flickering honey brown. Her hands.

He wanted her to touch him again.

He cleared his throat. He ordered himself to pay attention.

"I wouldn't actually have blackmailed you," he said evenly, sitting down in a chair beside her. "But I'm relieved to hear you say you'll talk to them."

Draco wanted to reach for her with every part of him. The feeling was so overwhelming that he didn't dare move. But the moment passed. He blinked hard against the images his imagination was conjuring in his mind.

"Would it help if I explained? Or would it take too much time away from your search?"

Touch me again.

He poured tea. Without thinking, he made it the way he liked for both of them: one lump of sugar, a splash of milk. He took his cup of tea to give his hands something to do.

"Maybe now is not the time..."

[rememberinggranger]

She said too much. She touched for too long. While her face shown prim and proper, her heart was untamable. Draco doesn’t care about her. He wants his freedom and nothing more. Back to business. Be agreeable. Stay pleasant. No more mistakes.

Remember why you’re here.

When he sat, she couldn’t make eye contact. He had become magnetizing. She wanted… No. She wanted to look through this library. She wanted her parents back. She wanted nothing else.

But, she couldn’t help herself as she watched Draco’s hands navigate the tray. She was entranced as he poured tea into both cups. Then to the sugar. Then the milk. The gentleness. The memory of his touch. His fingers slipping through the handle of the cup as he picked it up and let it rest there.

Was she drooling?

Wait, did he ask a question?

Hermione let out a breath, flustered, returning back to reality. What had he asked just before?

Bollocks.

She plopped one more lump of sugar into her tea trying to stall, searching through her memory. She took a sip, her hands shaking. The porcelain clicking on the saucer below it.

“I have a sweet tooth.” She said with a smile, still agonizing, trying to recall his question.

He asked to… explain! That’s right.

“Please.” Hermione agreed tipping her glass to him. “I’d love an explanation.”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco took a large gulp of tea and swallowed hard against the scalding liquid. It seared going down his throat, and the pain centred him. It forced him to focus.

Explain.

He would explain.

Any moment the words would begin.

The silence lengthened between them. He watched her hold his mother's favourite china set in her hands and wondered what his parents would say if they were here now.

But they're not here. Thank Merlin.

Draco heaved a sigh. He set down his tea. There was no use in delaying.

"When my father lost favour with the Dark Lord, I was... chosen for a very important mission. That's what I was told. I was to find a way into Hogwarts for the Death Eaters. And. And kill Dumbledore.

"I learned over time that none of the other Death Eaters really thought I could do it. The Dark Lord just wanted me to fail so that he could punish my parents. That's not the important part. Let me... I'll start over.

"A Dark Mark is evil. That's how I knew that what we were doing was... not right. Creating a Dark Mark is a despicable piece of magic. Being in that room when the Dark Lord... I..." Draco swallowed hard against the bile in his throat. "It is an evil act. But what could I do? The Dark Lord was not forgiving. He would have killed me. He would have killed my parents. And he still would have found a way into Hogwarts. He would have used Crabbe or Goyle or Nott. He would have used my friends to do... what I couldn't. I couldn't let that happen. I had to... had to go through with it.

"And once he'd marked me as his own, he could make me hurt whenever he wanted. It burned..." Draco clutched at his arm at the memory of the pain. "I know. I know you wouldn't have done it. But consider what you did for your parents, Granger." He held up a hand to placate her. "I don't mean to compare. I know we're not the same. I know I'm not... a good p-person. Maybe I'm not worth saving. But my parents. My friends. I couldn't do nothing. And it was already too late for me."

Draco looked down, away, anywhere else. He regretted sitting. The nervous energy he felt made him want to get up and pace, but he stayed seated. He didn't want to make her nervous. He only wanted to make her understand.

"I'm not a monster, Granger. I'm... I don't know what I am, but I'm not that. I feel... I know the things I did, the people I hurt. I know it was wrong. I was wrong, but I was too late to... I was too much of a coward. I just didn't want to die. And I didn't want my parents or my friends to die. But Crabbe. He... And now my parents are gone, and I'm so alone here. I don't know how to live with this, but I can't just give up. I want to try again. I want to be better. I just need... a chance."

That would have to be good enough. Draco could barely think straight for the truths he'd spoken. Most of it he'd never said aloud. A tear slid down his cheek, and he swiped it away in exasperation. He didn't want her to pity him. He wasn't worth pitying.

He just wanted her to look at him and see a person. Maybe then, maybe if he could get Granger to understand, he stood a chance.

[rememberinggranger]

She listened to every word intently. Keeping steady eye contact whenever he’d allow. She furrowed her brow as he stumbled and backtracked, paused, gathered his thoughts. This story wasn’t practiced. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if this was the first he’s spoken it out loud.

She raised her eyebrows as a tear fell down his cheek. After he wiped it away, she reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I would have done it.” She reassured him. “I would have done the same thing to keep my friends and family safe.” Her eyes serious, switching back and forth between both his grey orbs.

Hermione took her hand back and placed it in her neatly on her lap.

“But Malfoy… how, after everything you’ve done. How can anyone trust you with a second chance? You were a monster. What you are now I do not know but you were a monster to me.” She put a flat hand on her chest, remembering the first time she was called a mudblood, his nasty voice ringing in her ears.

“It’s a hard thing to believe you’re ready to be… better. As you put it.”

[dracoslibrary]

So It Begins

Draco Malfoy's troubles were never-ending.

While it was true that the trial that had consumed his life for the past — was it truly almost a year? — was finally coming to a close, it was not over yet. His parents had fled Britain to their estate near Bordeaux after their own trials, leaving Draco to manage things at their Wiltshire manor with only an agency house-elf, Keys, for company. He was getting nowhere with the press nor with the Ministry; neither would lift a finger to help him with the dismal public opinion of the Malfoy family. If anything, they were keen to make things harder for him. Last and worst of all, he was quite alone. His school friends had all but abandoned him, and most everyone else he'd known since birth was either dead or locked up in Azkaban.

Draco wasn't used to being alone. Lonely, yes. Of course, lonely. But alone? He had always had his parents at home or his friends at school. Someone. Always someone. Sometimes so many someones that he wanted to scream and fly so far away that no one would ever find him. But as he sat in the morning room of Malfoy Manor drinking tea and pretending to read the same sentence in the Daily Prophet for the fourth time, he could not help but face the fact that he was well and truly on his own.

Except for Keys, but she hardly counted.

It would be one thing if he was in London, in Diagon Alley where he could get out into the bustle of the street. That would be something. But he was stuck in Wiltshire until the conclusion of the trial next Thursday. If all went well, he would get his wand back. He would get his life back. If it didn't go to plan... Well, at least he would know. There would be an end to it. It was the not knowing that was so hard.

The not knowing and the being alone. Draco didn't know which was worse.

He tried reading the same sentence in the Prophet again and failed. His nerves were too frayed. He threw the newspaper aside, then watched a picture of precious Potter and his little posse of Aurors striding in and out of view from the front page. The headline made Draco want to rip the paper in half.

HARRY POTTER BRINGS LESTRANGE TO JUSTICE

Draco's only surviving uncle, Rodolphus Lestrange, had just been sentenced to life in Azkaban. It was a hell of a time for the Ministry to be asking anything of Draco, but he couldn't afford to say no. He was willing to do anything to reconcile his public relations nightmare, even letting a mudblood into the house. And not just any mudblood. The mudblood.

His hand shook as he sipped his tea. It was stone cold. He hardly cared.

Apparently the great Hermione Granger required the use of the Malfoy library. That's what the letter had said. What reason she could possibly have for making such a demand was beyond him, especially since she would most certainly have the whole of the Hogwarts library as well as the Ministry's records at her disposal. Why should she need access to the largest collection of books on the Dark Arts in the country?

Draco told himself not to feel curious about it. There was nothing to be done except to allow it. After all, how could he say no to the Ministry's request on her behalf when they held his liberty by a single thread? It didn't matter why she was coming. It only mattered that today was the day.

Hermione Granger in his home again. Hermione Granger touching his family's things.

Draco stood up. "Keys," he said, and immediately a floppy-eared house-elf with a button nose and a tea towel toga appeared before him.

"Sir called for Keys?"

"I'll be in the garden. Find me when she gets here."

The house-elf bowed as Draco moved past her. He couldn't do much to blow off steam, but he could train, and that's exactly what he would do until the mudblood was at his door.

[rememberinggranger]

Stagnant is where Hermione Granger finds herself. Unmoving; basking in the greatness of the manor before her. The amount of preparation she had undergone was no match for the utter betrayal of her body at this moment.

A year had passed since Hermione was last inside Malfoy Manor. The last time she was here was under different circumstances.

Since then, Hermione had returned to Hogwarts to help rebuild, finish her seventh year, and take her N.E.W.T.s - to which she scored an outstanding and exceeds expectations on all seven. 

Without a home to go back to, Hermione has divided her time equally between Hogwarts and the Weasley burrow, once it was revived back to its original state. Days were spent with her nose in a book and quill on parchment, taking in all the information she needed to score well on her exams. It kept her busy and her mind focused on anything other than the shell shock and profound sorrow the year prior had put her through. She did everything in her power to keep busy so she wouldn’t think about the her lost loved ones, their brutal fight to the very end, and torture… she had endured on the floors of the mansion that loomed over her.

Absent-mindedly, she grabbed her forearm where the word mudblood had been carved into her skin. Flashbacks of the pain ensued by the cruciatus replayed in her mind without permission. Goosebumps rose as they always did when she let herself go back to that day, her body reacting to the memory of pain and agony.

Hermione shut her eyes tight to keep from panicking and she took three long, deep breaths. Her fear easing with every exhale.

“You can do this.” She reassured herself, taking a few brave steps up the stairs and approaching the ostentatious door.

After graduating, her life plan was clear. Become a member of the Ministry and infiltrate from the inside in hopes that she can make the Wizarding World a more accepting place for those who are discriminated against. Inclusivity for all creatures! It was a mighty goal, but one that Hermione was sure she could achieve.

After humbly accepting a position within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, there was one thing she had to do before she could execute her grand scheme to take over the Ministry for good. 

The decision to obliviate her parent’s memories was made to keep them safe throughout the second wizarding war. Though it caused her extreme hardship, she was confident that she could figure out a way to reverse the charm after the fact. However, her quest had become something of a treasure hunt.

Books have always given her the answers, but through her research, she’s come up short every time. Three days ago, she had officially run out of options but her determination never dwindled. She started cleverly picking the brains of anyone who would listen within the Ministry walls which is when she was given the idea to check the Mafloy’s library. Their library had an impressive collection of Dark Arts books, or so she was told. At first, Hermione shook off the idea. Malfoy manor was the last place she wanted to be and Draco… she simply couldn’t face him. But as she had absolutely no leads after weeks, it seemed to be her last option. And Hermione would do anything to get her parents back.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She reclined her hand from the door after her three hearty knocks and cleared her throat, her heart racing in her chest. Behind the door she heard a scurrying, and turned off a lock, and saw a small house-elf craning the large heavy door open with a grunt. 

“Ms. Granger. Come in.” The house elf billowed, and opened the door only wide enough for her to enter through, then with another grunt, closed the door behind her. 

Hermione desperately tried to open her mouth and thank the elf, but nothing came out. Her eyes chose a tile on the floor, and there they stayed affixed, not daring to look around. 

“Wait here.” The elf announced before scurrying off.  She took quick short breaths and repeated, you are safe now, a few times in her head. A tactic that helped when her anxiety was high. She smoothed her blazer and realized she still had her S.P.E.W. button pinned proudly on her chest. She quickly removed it and stuck it in a pocket, waiting for someone to escort her to the library so she could get on with her research and leave this manor as quickly as possible.

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at the booming voice of Draco Malfoy as it reverberated throughout the foyer. Arrogance surrounded him and bled out through his words just as she remembered.

Her S.P.E.W button sprung out of her breast pocket as if it was also frightened. As it made its dramatic descent to the tiled floor below, it seemed as if time stopped around it. Hermione was now watching her mistake happen in slow motion and having no way to stop it. The clatter of the plastic emitted a louder noise than she was prepared for. They both watched as the button settled neatly on the floor.

The situation was comical really. She couldn’t help but think about the irony of this button being on the manor floors of that family. A soft chuckle escaped as she stood looking at the abandoned button. The chuckle melded into a laugh and then to a full-on belly laugh. And it felt good. It felt freeing to find humor in something, even a small something. So she allowed herself this moment of happiness, however fleeting.

It was then that she met Draco’s eyes. The same eyes she grew up with. The same eyes behind the relentless bullying in school. The same eyes that stood by and did nothing as she screamed out for help being tortured at the hands of his own aunt.

Suddenly, the humor in the situation evaporated and flitted away into the staunch air the Malfoy Manor held. Hermione cleared her throat, bent down to retrieve her lost item, undid her blazer, and found a much safer home in the jetted pocket.

“I apologize.” She announced to the room, and redid her blazer.

Hermione took a moment to regroup. She straightened her back and clasped her hands together. A wave of nerves shot through her spine as Draco stood, not knowing what to make of her. Perhaps he thinks she went insane over the past year.

What did he know of her these days? Did he think of her before her request? Was he still harboring disdain for her? Oh course he was. She’d helped put half his family in Azkaban, afterall.

The last time they were in the same room was during her testimony, though she couldn’t bear to look at him. Keeping up with the Prophet, she’s aware of his family's trials and that his own trial is still pending. Rumors have spread around the Ministry about his parents leaving him to fend for himself. Perhaps they had a similarity, both longing for their parents' love, though, in different ways.

Absolutely not - no - no way was she letting her mind wander to empathy for Draco Malfoy. He wasn’t deserving of it. His opinions about her didn’t matter. All that mattered in this moment was his family's library.

“As you know,” Hermione started, her voice shaking. “I was sent on the Ministry's behalf to have a look through your library. Now if you don’t mind escorting me, I promise to be efficient and be out of your hair as quickly as possible.”

By the end of her practiced spiel, she became more confident and put together, as a proper witch of the Ministry should be.

[dracoslibrary]

Granger jumped at the sound of his voice, and Draco's smile stiffened as he suppressed a laugh. Not so high and mighty after all. She was nervous. Well, why shouldn't she be? He was a Death Eater.

His heart sank, and the smile on his face faltered. No matter what he did from now on, that was all the world would ever see him as. A dangerous criminal. Even if his trial ended as happily for him as it had for his parents, that stain would mark him forever.

Very suddenly, whatever Granger had put into her pocket fell out again onto the checkered marble floor and, inexplicably, Granger began to laugh. It was a true laugh, but a laugh that came from somewhere dark into the light. Draco understood a laugh like that all too well. Hadn't he laughed himself to tears over cutting his chin while shaving only that morning? How funny for a full-grown wizard to still be using a straight razor. How funny for Draco Malfoy of all people to be without his wand.

Granger must have seen something of the gallows humour in his eyes because she suddenly became serious. Perhaps she thought he was laughing at her.

Who cares what she thinks? he thought. What is she even doing here really?

As he watched, Granger bent to retrieve the — button, perhaps? — from the floor. Then she apologized, and Draco nearly laughed again. The thought of Hermione bloody Granger apologizing to him was too much. A sense of unreality settled over him. He would have thought he was dreaming, but he could never have thought up anything so ridiculous, so outlandish, as an apology from the mudblood.

From Granger. Now that she was standing right in front of him, he couldn't quite muster the nerve to think of her as "the mudblood" anymore. It felt wrong somehow. And the fact that it felt wrong also felt wrong. Draco passed a few moments in paralyzing confusion before Granger spoke again.

Her voice shook at first. It actually shook. The echoes in the foyer left no doubt about that, though she seemed to find her footing by the end of her little speech.

And she promised to be out of his way soon. Draco wasn't sure how he felt about that. Alone in the manor for days at a time with no one but Keys for company was no way to live. Then again, would having Granger around be any better? Only one way to find out.

"Of course," Draco said sardonically with an inclination of his head. "Anything for the Ministry." Then he turned on his heels and began to walk.

He didn't take the most direct route possible to the library. He wanted to avoid the portrait gallery where any one of his many ancestors may see what he was doing and run to tattle on him to his parents. He couldn't be sure the portraits knew what Granger looked like, but he wasn't willing to take that chance. It wasn't as if he'd had much of a choice in her being here. The last thing he wanted was an angry letter from his parents about it. Better to avoid as many portraits as possible along the way.

Though he wasn't often grateful for Keys, Draco had to admit as he walked through the corridors that the manor looked presentable again. At least Granger wasn't seeing the place as it was when the Death Eaters had left it. A shambles. Practically a ruin of its former grandeur. They had torn apart his family's home without a thought.

Now, however, the furniture was polished and the grand mirror in the hall repaired. The singe holes in the tapestries leading through to the west wing had been mended. The heavy curtains along their route had all been opened to let in the light. Even the parquet wood floors had been scrubbed to a shine. Yes, Keys was a decent house-elf. For once, Draco felt glad for her presence instead of merely tolerating it. He didn't have to feel embarrassed about his home. That was a small mercy, and he had Keys to thank for it.

Draco approached the double doors of the library and opened them with a flourish. Inside, he spread his arms wide as wall sconces illuminated themselves between the bookcases and several large globes hanging from a ceiling painted with constellations sputtered to light. It was an impressive room, and he knew it. He had spent all his life in this library, but he tried to see it as if for the first time through Granger's eyes.

Two storeys high with a spiral staircase at the centre of the room, the library represented centuries of careful curation and was the pride of his family alongside their vineyards in France. Carved wood panelling between the shelves and shelves of books gave the room a certain quiet warmth. Forest green curtains with black fringes and silver fastenings hung in the tall, mullioned windows where high-backed chairs stood together in twos and threes divided by little ornate side tables. It was a beautiful place, though Draco knew that it was also a dangerous place. One could get lost, and if one opened the wrong book in this library, one might never be found again.

Draco turned back to the entrance of the library and levelled his gaze at Granger. "Where do you want to start?"

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione was desperate.

Desperate to keep this interaction professional. Desperate to get her emotions under control. Desperate to see this leg of her journey through, however painful.

But the sarcasm.

It was silly of her to think that he would be any different. He was Draco Malfoy after all. The boy who couldn’t resist making others feel inferior to boost his self confidence. 

No, not boy. He was a man now. A Death Eater. 

Fear prickled up Hermione’s spine as they weaved in and out of rooms and corridors. She suddenly became acutely aware that she was alone with a known Death Eater. Anxiety rose like a title wave, threatening to come crashing down and ruin the pleasant demeanor she made quick work to affix. Questions bubbled up in its wake. What if this was all a trap? What if Draco was tasked to kill her and she gave him the perfect opportunity? Even without a leader and half the following, would the Death Eaters continue their torment? Perhaps she should have taken Ron’s offer to come with her.

Ron. She wasn’t sure if his presence would help or hinder, so she declined. Seeing him around the burrow was hard enough now-a-days without him being involved in something so personal. Though, she’s sure Ron is a tangled mess of nerves right now knowing where she is and who she’s with. Fighting the urge to apparate. It was sweet knowing how much he cared for her.

Hermione monitored Draco as he walked, her hand finding a home on the silk lining of her blazer where her wand was sheathed. He was taller than she remembered. His outgrown hair was tousled and slightly damp, she noticed. At this moment, she couldn’t remember the last time she was this close to Draco Malfoy. Close enough to watch his shirt move simultaneously with each step. To smell the musk he was emitting as he walked.

The only sound they were making was their shoes on the marbled flooring. The walk seemed extensive, even for a manor of this size. As Hermione walked she noticed how bare the manor seemed. The only thing giving life to this desolate estate was Draco and the house-elf. She read an article in the Profit claiming that Lucious and Narsissa fled after their trials. It looked as if there was truthfulness to that article and is truly meant to deal with his own trial alone.

Her daydreams came to a halt when they reached double doors and Draco threw them open. 

As she stepped inside the library she came to a quick realization that this had to be the most beautiful room she’d ever seen. Her mouth hung open as she walked past Draco and scanned the entirety of the room, not wanting to miss a single detail. As the room illuminated she couldn’t help but run her fingers over a line of books on the nearest bookcase. To have access to a library of this magnitude was something Hermione couldn’t comprehend.

At Draco’s question she turned back to him to answer. When she did, the memory of him watching idly as Bellatrix tormented her on the same cold flooring that was beneath her feet flashed quickly. She gasped and stumbled back a few steps before the image refocused back to the present. Her breath became labored as she came down from the flashback and she turned her back toward Draco to try and hide her dismay. 

“Anything that has to do with memory charms.” Her voice shook as she answered.

She walked behind a bookshelf, pretending to browse, and tried not to spiral into a panic attack that was often attached when these memories resurfaced.

“I am capable of searching alone.” Her voice raised so that he could hear her from behind the shelving. 

As a comfort, she unsheathed her wand and clasped both hands around it. She melted to the ground and took a seat as tears threatened to fall.

You are safe now. You are safe now. You are safe now.

[dracoslibrary]

Draco almost did it. He almost left her there to fend for herself in what might have been one of the world's most dangerous libraries.

Granger thought she knew everything. Let her try her luck against these books. Some had fangs. Some were poisonous to read. One manifested runespoors that would attack the unwary reader. One even required a blood sacrifice before text would appear on its pages. No, this library was not a safe place. Let her find out for herself.

He was halfway to the door when he stopped. As much as he would have liked to, he couldn't just leave Granger alone with the books. If she went missing at Malfoy Manor, he could kiss what little freedom he had left goodbye. The remainder of his trial would be a foregone conclusion. Draco couldn't afford for something bad to happen to Granger, and the idea of that was as frustrating as it was inevitable. Leave it to Granger to put him in the intolerable situation of having to actually help her.

"That's a pretty specific..." Draco started, rounding the corner of the bookcase to find Granger on the ground, her wand held out in front of her like a lantern in a storm. "Request," he finished. "What are you doing?"

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione turned her glare toward Draco as he rounded the corner and asked what she was doing. She didn’t expect compassion. Not from him, anyways. Nor was she willing to explain how much this manor was affecting her.

One single dramatic tear cascaded down her face as Hermione rose to her feet, her knuckles whitening around her wand. Wrath was boiling over, ready to spill out.

“Did you hear me? I said I’m capable on my own.” Venom seeped into her words.

She let the anger fester, desperate to find the source. She concluded to one single root of her rage. Draco Malfoy. From the torment she endured while they were just children at Hogwarts. The fact that his family largely contributed to the reason she had to erase her parents’ memories. His cowardice eyes that watched her succumb to torture. Presently, because she needs his help to resolve her biggest regret.

“If you do not trust me alone please send your house-elf to monitor. I’m sure she would be better company than you.”

To make a point, Hermione grabbed the first book in her reach. She pushed past Draco, making sure to check him with her shoulder as she did. Headed for seating, she opened the book to start her research when suddenly a heat rose from just under her fingers as she turned the first page. 

With a shout of pain, Hermione hastily dropped the book as it billowed flame and smoke and clambered to the floor. She took a few steps back and pointed her wand at the book.

“Aguamenti!”

It was a spell that she’s used more times than she could count. A spell she mastered well before anyone else in her charms class. But this time, the spray seemed to have a mind of its own. What is usually a small controllable stream was now a gush of wetness, spritzing water wildly in every direction. Luckily she was able to snuff out the fire that was threatening to burn down the entire manor, but in its wake it also doused everything in the immediate area including herself and Draco.

Hermione stood there dumbfounded and drenched, taking a moment to fully grasp what just happened.

[dracoslibrary]

Draco spluttered, and his soaked clothes clung to him as he sloshed in soggy shoes over to the book that still smouldered on the parquet wood floor. As he suspected, it was Ignatius Hellbent's Incendiarium. It was no longer on fire, but neither did it appear to be wet or damaged in any way. Instead, it steamed like a merry teapot, apparently well-pleased with itself.

He stared around at the charred and dripping bindings of the books on the shelves around them, listening to the deafening silence in the wake of a disaster averted. If Granger had ruined any of the priceless books in this library, there would be hell to pay. He would rip that wand out of her white-knuckled hands and make her regret the day she dared darken his doorstep. This was his family's legacy. This was his inheritance.

It hadn't occurred to him that swotty Hermione Granger would destroy books. He would never have agreed to this little farce had he known she could be so careless.

Draco rounded on Granger. He took a measured step toward her, then another, stalking forward with a rage building in him every bit as white-hot as the fire spells in the Incendiarium. His jaw clenched as his gaze burned into her.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

[rememberinggranger]

This wasn’t right. Hermione didn’t make mistakes with her magic. She studied and trained too hard to be losing control of her wand. Indeed she was lucky that this didn’t become a dangerous situation… but the books. It was against everything in her moral compass to do harm to books. Even if they came from the Malfoy manor. Even if they caused harm to her.

Drenched to the bone, wet fabric clung to her skin. Her wavy ringlets were straightened by the heaviness of the water. What little makeup she had on was surely melting down her face leaving smears of black. Her shoes sloshed as she readjusted her stance, uncomfortability settling in.

The sound of water droplets echoed through the library as newly formed puddles pooled, ever expanding as the chaos settled. Hermione rubbed the excess wet out of her eyes and when she did, winced in pain. The tips of her fingers started forming blisters from the fire. She held up a shaky hand to inspect the damage while she tried to formulate a plan to right this wrong.

It didn’t occur to her to check on Draco until she heard his sloshing footsteps through the settled puddles. When she looked up he was stalking toward her, seeing red. Hermione’s heartbeat quickened as Draco drew near, like a predictor hunting his prey.

She took a few steps back from him and extended her wand in defense. It was an empty promise. She would never use magic against someone seemingly defenseless. Then again, his demeanor threatened violence.

“Stay back.” She announced firmly, her wand becoming an extension of her arm. “Please don’t hurt me.”

The plea was uttered just above a whisper, fear evident in her voice.

When he spoke, it was as if he was breathing fire.

“What have I done?” Hermione rebutted, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that she can see right through his shirt. “What have you done? This would not have happened if you had told me these books were charmed. This is your fault, Draco Malfoy. I will not take the blame for this.”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco stopped an inch away from the tip of Granger's wand. His hands were balled into fists. His heart pounded and his ears rang with her words.

"My fault? My fault? Look around, you crazy bint. You did this. I barely had a chance to get a word in before you went off grabbing the first book you saw." He slapped her wand away from his chest and leaned in. Her make-up ran down her face from her wide eyes, and he could feel her breath heaving hard against his cheeks. It was closer than he could ever remember being to Granger. How he loathed her.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?"

[rememberinggranger]

As Draco walked closer, her heart quickened pace and it felt like it might explode. She didn’t protest when he slapped her wand away, knowing full well she wouldn’t have used it.

For a moment, she was struck with genuine fear. But as he leaned in, the fear melded into something unfamiliar to their distaste for one another. She let out and involuntarily gasp as his mouth drew closer to her ear. Drops of water fell from his dripping form onto her neck and chest. Hermione was losing focus.

His voice was husky as he spoke and she let out a sharp breath. Had she ever been this close to Draco Malfoy? Perhaps the only time she’d had was when she punched him their third year.

He was different now. The cowardice that befell him wasn’t present today. Either that or anger overtook that side of him.

She let him stay close for far too long, her chest raising and falling in tandem with his. The closeness they shared sparked an excitement within her that she couldn’t fully comprehend. Her body started to shiver, and she wondered if it was from her soaked clothes or something else.

She gently placed her hand on his chest and pushed herself away from him, breaking from whatever trance she fell into.

Looking around at the now settled Aguamenti disaster, she knew he was right and loathed him for being so.

“Fine.” Hermione relented, wrapping her arms around her body to subside the shivering. “Though I will not take full blame. You should have mentioned it the second we walked in.”

She avoided his eye contact as she spoke.

“I’m sure everything can be restored and I will help you. Not for your sake, but because I won’t let beautiful, historical books go to waste because my wand decided to act up.”

[dracoslibrary]

She touched his chest, and he felt her shaking through the palm her her hand. It was warm. He had never imagined her so warm. His breath hitched and his eyes closed for just a moment. A long moment.

Something. There was something wrong about this moment. Draco's heart thudded in his ears so loudly that he almost missed her words. The sound of her voice was... his tongue darted out to slide along his lower lip. Suddenly he was very aware of a buzzing electricity in his body, of his soaking white shirt hanging off of his muscled frame.

Did she notice? Was she as distracted as he was?

Then her hand was gone and Draco almost fell forward in its absence.

What had she said? Had she just agreed with him?

Draco opened his eyes again. He cleared his throat. He stood up straight.

Granger was hugging herself. She hadn't noticed his momentary lapse in judgement. She didn't care that he had... Had he? No. Surely not.

Draco had not thought about Granger in that way. He hadn't thought how that hand would feel sliding over his chest, plucking at the buttons of his shirt. He hadn't thought of her approaching him, closing the distance. What he would do. What she might allow...

No. She was talking about the books. Fuck the books.

No. Wait. She had scorched and then drenched more than two dozen books in his precious library with her ridiculous antics. Granger had done that. This Granger in front of him.

She was distracting him. This was her fault. He couldn't think straight with her so close.

With a great effort, he took a few steps back. "The books," he said stupidly. "Yes." He cleared his throat again. "You're bloody right you'll fix this. And then you'll go."

[rememberinggranger]

Panic shot through her when he demanded she go, far before she was ready. Briefly, she forgot why she was here in the first place. From the moment she stepped foot in this manor it felt like chaos was following her. She prided herself in being an extremely put together woman, and now she was losing her mind in the presence of her mortal enemy.

“No, I can’t leave until I’ve finished my research.” She pleaded, “I can’t even begin to explain how important this is. I understand I caused harm but I will put things right if you only let me stay.”

Desperation was in her voice, but she didn’t care. This could very well be her last hope in returning her parents memory.

“Anyways, I’m the one with a wand. You need my help unless you have a hair dryer on hand.”

A bit of a dig, sure. She’ll have a laugh as he tries to figure out what a hair dryer is.

Just then, Keys sulked through the library’s entrance and stopped dead in her tracks, seeing the disarray.

“Is Keys needed, sir?”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco nearly sighed audibly in relief at the appearance of the house-elf in the library. He supposed he wouldn't be needing Granger's help after all. Or a "hair dryer," whatever that was. That freed him up to get to the bottom of what the bloody hell was going on.

"Keys," he said, "see to this mess." He gestured vaguely at the damaged books. Keys gave a curt nod and got to work.

Draco turned his piercing grey gaze back to Granger. "You. Explain. What research? I thought you were here on behalf of the Ministry." He pulled the Ministry's letter—a little damper than he would have liked, but still legible—out of his back pocket and tossed the tri-folded parchment onto one of the library's little tables between them. "What is going on? The truth, Granger."

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione eyed Draco after his demand toward the elf, furrowing her brow with distaste.

“Thank you, Keys.” She said to the house-elf before she got to work drying the area around them.

When Draco turned back to her, butterflies manifested in her gut, flitting about careless to whom was making her fluster. Was it lingering fear? Surely that’s the explanation to why Hermione suddenly felt tingly. Not his grey eyes she fear she might get lost in.

Focus.

She nearly cursed herself for revealing why she’d made a request through the ministry to use his library. She watched as Draco tossed the request parchment onto the table between them, likely worded professionally with little to no information as to why.

Conflict rose from within her. Once revealed, Draco likely wouldn’t care about her problems. But it was so personal to her and difficult to talk about without becoming emotional.

With a sigh, she softened.

“I-“ She dipped her head and cast her gaze down to her shoes. “I’m not sure why it should matter to you, but I need to reverse a memory charm.”

That’s all she was going to say, but as she squashed around in damp shoes, she made the decision to concede.

“I erased my parents memories of me before… well you know. I wanted to keep them safe in case Death Eaters-“ she looked up at him to see his reaction, “tried harming them.”

With a deep breath she continued, “I also didn’t want them to feel loss if I died protecting Harry.”

She put a hand up in defense of her next statement.

“And please, don’t tell me it’s irreversible. I’ve been told numerous times by so many people. But there must to be a way. There has to because if there isn’t…”

She trailed off, not daring to finish that sentence as tears started to well.

“So please, I beg of you Draco. Do not usher me out. This, your library, it is my last hope.”

[dracoslibrary]

She was going to cry. Granger was begging him for help, and she was actually going to cry. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have been doing a jig.

But she looked so pitiful, and he felt an emptiness in the well of his gut when he thought of sending her away now. Why? Why did he care?

Because, he told himself, she was his ticket out of his mess with his trial. The warm excitement of an idea settled over Draco's chest. With Granger's good opinion secured, he was practically guaranteed a verdict of not guilty. She just had to get the rest of her friends who were slated to testify to speak in his favour, and how hard would that be for the smartest witch he'd ever known? Not that he would ever tell her that.

What he would tell her were his terms. Draco chose his next words carefully.

"You want my library. I want my freedom," he said. "All I care about is getting my life back. You help me with my trial, and I'll help you navigate this library. And I won't write to the Daily Prophet about what you just told me about your parents."

Just then, Keys blasted Draco all over with hot air, drying him off in an instant but leaving him a bit bewildered and more than a little indignant at the abruptness of Keys' magic. But he controlled his annoyance, reaching up to comb his hair back with his fingers and enjoying the sensation of being dry again.

Draco looked around at the library. The only thing left out of order was the Incendiarium still lying on the floor. Keys knew better than to touch a book from this library. Smart elf.

Draco walked over and picked up the still slightly steaming book. He replaced it on the shelf, then turned back to face Granger.

"So. Do we have a deal?"

[rememberinggranger]

Silly of Hermione to think that a Malfoy would have any empathy. Silly of Hermione to open her heart to him in hopes that he would be compassionate about her situation. Unfortunately she couldn’t take it back now. All of her cards were on the table.

If the Profit caught wind of this, there would be backlash. Everyone knew that using magic on or around non-magic folk was strictly forbidden. It is a punishable offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t technically graduated Hogwarts and was using magic outside of school. The Ministry was kind enough to turn the other cheek when she confessed and asked for guidance, but the public might not be as forgiving. It could hinder her future opportunities, or worse, force the Ministry to reconsider.

Then again, who would believe a known Death Eater who is awaiting trial. That last thought almost made her laugh. Who was she kidding. They’d publish any scandal that came their way, true or not. Especially about a Seconding Wizard War hero. Oh what gossip that article would stir.

She didn’t answer his proposition immediately. Instead she made an internal pro con list. If she agreed, Ron and Harry would be furious with her. Helping Draco Malfoy. The villain in their story. It seemed too ridiculous to even think about.

On the other hand… her parents. The blackmail Draco threatened.

Deep in decision making, she didn’t even notice the elf that appeared beside Draco, blasting him with dry air. She looked around at the books she’d nearly destroyed and they seemed to be restored back to their original conditions. She let out a sigh of relief as a now dry Draco place the charmed book back in its home.

Keys started toward Hermione and she held her hands out in protest.

“Oh no, I can do it-“

But she spoke a little too late and Keys blasted her with the same hot air. It nearly blew her shirt and blazer clean off. She clasped her shirt together until the elf felt like she was dry enough and let off.

“Thank you.” Hermione said, feeling more comfortable already.

She can only imagine the puff ball that now lay on top of her head. She gathered her hair and wrapped it a few times. Skillfully, she weaved her wand through the bun she crated until it was stuck in place. She did her best to wipe the streams of mascara from her face without a mirror to help guide her.

When he asked if they had a deal, she had not yet decided.

“Help… how?”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco watched Granger skillfully trap her unruly hair into a messy bun and wipe the faint make-up streaks from her cheeks. In moments, she was presentable again. More than presentable.

He looked away and composed his face into a mask of indifference as Granger asked how she could help him. It wasn't possible for him to be thinking of Granger as anything other than a know-it-all mudblood with delusions of her own importance. It wasn't possible for him to care about her problems or priorities. So he simply wouldn't. He wouldn't care.

"Keys," Draco snapped. "Bring tea."

Keys didn't hesitate; she disappeared with a pop that left a ringing silence in its wake.

Draco gazed at the spines of the books in the nearest bookcase and thought about how to reply to her question. How. How could she help him? The idea of Granger helping him was laughable. It simply shouldn't be. But he had to take it seriously. Because without her, his future was uncertain. With her, he stood a chance. As disgusting as it was, he would have to play nice. He would have to get this girl on his side.

She was a bleeding heart. It should be easy. Though he'd already bungled things by threatening her with exposure. He would have to rectify that. Tactics, tactics. He hadn't been playing the game before. He was playing now.

"I'm alone here. My parents are gone. It's just me and the elf," Draco began. He dropped his pretence of composure, allowed the fear and uncertainty of the last year to show on his face. His lips parted, turned down in a frown. He made his eyes wide and sad. "And I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what will happen to me next week at the trial. Weasley and Potter haven't testified yet. I need your help getting them to see my side of things. I just want the chance to explain..." He broke off, his voice too full of emotion to continue, and he began to wonder how much of his little performance was, in fact, real.

Too much, he decided. He didn't want to reveal too much all at once.

Lure her in. Make her listen. Gain her sympathy.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He almost didn't want to look at her, was almost afraid of what he would find when he did, but he forced himself to turn and face her.

Give her the truth. Just a little of it. Just a hint.

"I don't... I don't want to be on my own anymore."

[rememberinggranger]

“Your side of things? Explain?” Hermione breathed, her brow furrowed and voice laced with disbelief. When he turned back around she made sure not to break eye contact so he could see how disgusted she was at this proposition.

“You must be joking, Malfoy.” Using his last name in vein was a reminder to herself of where his loyalties lie.

“After everything you’ve done. What exactly do you have to explain?“

But as she studied him closer, she could see the pain and loneliness in his eyes. The softness that fell upon him as he spoke. Watching his parents flee before his final trial is… heartbreaking. No child should ever have to endure selfishness through their parents.

Hermione, no.

Feeling empathy for the man who aided in the loss of loved ones? Was she mad?

Memories of Dumbledore echoed through her mind, like a lighthouse that guided her home. Fred. Dobby. Lupin and Tonks. Her parents memories. Harry, nearly.

All for the sake of purification and the execution of her own kind. Those born to muggles. Those who were “dirty”.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes in frustration.

“Help me to understand. You want me to convince my…” she paused, reminding herself of her relationship with Ron. “friends to speak on your behalf after years of torment. After all the hardship you caused us. How in Merlin’s name do you suggest I achieve this goal?”

Her eyes flicked downward to his forearm, a hint of black from his mark shown through his dress shirt. She knew exactly where his moral compass pointed.

[dracoslibrary]

Not so gullible after all. And Draco didn't miss her glance at his left forearm, either. Granger was nobody's fool.

Damn.

Draco tried again. He held his hands out in an open gesture as if inviting her in, and he let his mask slip a little further. The grief and pain he held dammed back every moment of every day flooded in. It washed his face over with misery and guilt and heartache. He let it break inside him like waves in a storm. He let it course through his veins until his muscles ached to run, run, run.

He stayed put. He forced himself to talk.

Talk.

"We might not have been... friendly... at school, but does that mean I deserve to go to Azkaban for the rest of my life? I wasn't... Look, this is hard for me. The last few years have been... difficult. You have no idea."

This wasn't working. She would never believe him. He would never get through to her. Hopelessness twisted in his chest.

In a rush, he ripped at the button of his sleeve and bunched up the fabric obscuring the Dark Mark until it lay naked before her gaze. He couldn't look at it, the thing that had burned and writhed on his arm, the mark that had sealed his fate so long ago. Nausea curdled in his stomach.

He hated it. He hated it.

"You think I wanted this? I didn't want—" His voice broke. Words failed. He stared at her with pleading eyes, willing her to understand.

He was suddenly so tired. He just wanted it to end.

Draco couldn't play this game anymore, not even for a few minutes. There was almost nothing of his old self left, despite what he pretended. He was too broken. He was too ruined.

He didn't want her help. He needed it.

Draco held his breath. And waited.

[rememberinggranger]

Despite her best efforts, Hermione’s heart twisted into a knot as Draco poured his out. Compassion encompassed her critical thinking as it so often did. Hermione’s hamartia.

She watched his desperation as he dug his Dark Mark out from underneath fabric and put it on display. It took everything in her not to flinch, remembering how long she had to look at Bellatrix’ matching symbol while she had her way with Hermione.

Without warning, she started taking steps toward him. This was a decision her body made on its own. Slowly, she closed the distance between them. She wanted to see the mark that was branded on him up close. She wanted to see the mark that she’s been so afraid of for years.

When they were mere inches apart she absentmindedly traced the snake from its head to the skull affixed on top with her scorched fingertips. Her touch so gentle, his skin tickled underneath hers. She felt electricity between them. Enough for goose-pimples to rise on her skin. Could he feel it too?

She was relieved to find out that the Dark Mark alone couldn’t hurt her. It was the human attached to the brand that had all the power.

“You didn’t want this?” She asked, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes, her own eyes wide, desperate for clarification.

[dracoslibrary]

His eyes didn't leave hers as Draco placed his hand gently over Granger's to stop her tracing the Mark.

"Don't," he said, so low it was barely a whisper.

He couldn't bear to have her touching it. The agony, the shame of it was too much. He turned his arm over so that he wouldn't have to look at the thing, and, as if in response to his desire to have it out of his sight, the fabric of his sleeve slid down over the Mark, mostly obscuring it.

Draco held Granger's hand in his and noticed the angry red blisters forming on her fingers for the first time. He turned her hand over slowly, carefully, cradling it in his own as he examined it.

"You're hurt."

If he'd had his wand—but of course, he didn't have his wand. He did have Dittany in the house. He didn't bother to offer. He had no doubt Granger could heal herself much more effectively than any dose of Dittany.

In the back of his mind, he realized how insane this was. He shouldn't be touching Granger at all. She shouldn't be so close. He shouldn't want her there. But he was so alone, and he was so afraid.

"No," he said into the silence settling between them. "No, I didn't want this."

[rememberinggranger]

The knot that entangled her heart tightened at his touch. Without even a glance he removed the mark from sight as if he couldn’t bare to look at it. His agony engulfed them and almost suffocated Hermione. These emotions were real. He was being honest. Hermione’s heart bled out.

Instead of shying away from her touch, he embraced it. Whatever walls she’d built were crumbling down as she watched him turn her hands over to examine the burns, the only evidence left of her little accident. Concern was genuinely displayed on his face. Concern. For a mudblood.

Something was different now. He was different. Her thoughts raced trying to accept that Malfoy didn’t want to become a Death Eater. That’s all he’d ever been to her. An evil that she tried to fight for years. Until the end of it all. Now he stood inches away from her, their hands intertwined in each others. Both of them broken, bruised, and branded.

Hermione recoiled her hands from his, immediately missing his touch in its absence. She shimmied off her blazer and placed it nicely on the arm of the closest chair. Carefully, she unbuttoned the silk at her wrist and rolled the arm of her blouse up neatly. The paused for a moment before turning her forearm over and displaying her scar. Her own brand.

She grabbed Draco’s hand and placed it gently on top of the letters. Part of her hoped that seeing her scar would hurt him. That it a would make him feel ashamed and uncomfortable. He knows where it came from. He was there, after all.

“I understand. More than you know. Being back here in your manor is agonizing. I can’t get that day out of my mind. Laying on the cold floor in excruciating pain. Being tortured and branded by…” He knew. “I am different. I’m not the same brilliant bookworm you grew up with. I am broken now.”

She expected tears to be paired with these words, but all she felt was emptiness. Exhaustion falling over her. Her chest hollow.

Just then, Keys popped back into the room with a cacophony of porcelain clanking. With a gasp, Hermione side stepped away from him, letting his hand drop. Her heart started racing as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

Was she doing something wrong?

Hermione cleared her throat, unrolled her sleeve, and walked over to where the tea tray was placed. She gave a curt thank you to Keys. Her walls rebuilding.

“Admittedly, I’m unsure if helping you is a wise decision.” She announced, finding herself for the first time since being in the manor. Her normal level-headed politeness returning to her.

“However, you’ve caught me in an extremely weakened state and I’ll do anything to figure out how to get my parents back, blackmail or not.” She sat down across from the tea tray and cast her gaze up at Malfoy. “I will speak to the boys on your behalf but I cannot promise anything. You are… not their favorite person. As you well know.”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco's fingers itched to touch her again, anywhere, anywhere. The curls of her hair and the silk of her shirt shone in the lamplight, and he wanted... he didn't know what, but he nearly shook with the wanting of it.

Calm down.

Fear and shame and regret scratched and grated at his insides from what she'd shown him, but there was something so endearing about Granger jumping at the arrival of Keys that he almost laughed. She was adorable. How had he never noticed? How could he feel so many disparate things at the same time?

Then she was all business, talking to him as if they hadn't just shared the most intimate moment of his life. Her lips moving. Her eyes flickering honey brown. Her hands.

He wanted her to touch him again.

He cleared his throat. He ordered himself to pay attention.

"I wouldn't actually have blackmailed you," he said evenly, sitting down in a chair beside her. "But I'm relieved to hear you say you'll talk to them."

Draco wanted to reach for her with every part of him. The feeling was so overwhelming that he didn't dare move. But the moment passed. He blinked hard against the images his imagination was conjuring in his mind.

"Would it help if I explained? Or would it take too much time away from your search?"

Touch me again.

He poured tea. Without thinking, he made it the way he liked for both of them: one lump of sugar, a splash of milk. He took his cup of tea to give his hands something to do.

"Maybe now is not the time..."

[rememberinggranger]

She said too much. She touched for too long. While her face shown prim and proper, her heart was untamable. Draco doesn’t care about her. He wants his freedom and nothing more. Back to business. Be agreeable. Stay pleasant. No more mistakes.

Remember why you’re here.

When he sat, she couldn’t make eye contact. He had become magnetizing. She wanted… No. She wanted to look through this library. She wanted her parents back. She wanted nothing else.

But, she couldn’t help herself as she watched Draco’s hands navigate the tray. She was entranced as he poured tea into both cups. Then to the sugar. Then the milk. The gentleness. The memory of his touch. His fingers slipping through the handle of the cup as he picked it up and let it rest there.

Was she drooling?

Wait, did he ask a question?

Hermione let out a breath, flustered, returning back to reality. What had he asked just before?

Bollocks.

She plopped one more lump of sugar into her tea trying to stall, searching through her memory. She took a sip, her hands shaking. The porcelain clicking on the saucer below it.

“I have a sweet tooth.” She said with a smile, still agonizing, trying to recall his question.

He asked to… explain! That’s right.

“Please.” Hermione agreed tipping her glass to him. “I’d love an explanation.”

[lepra-art]

and he would risk it all, to turn this moment into eternity✨

[dracoslibrary]

So It Begins

Draco Malfoy's troubles were never-ending.

While it was true that the trial that had consumed his life for the past — was it truly almost a year? — was finally coming to a close, it was not over yet. His parents had fled Britain to their estate near Bordeaux after their own trials, leaving Draco to manage things at their Wiltshire manor with only an agency house-elf, Keys, for company. He was getting nowhere with the press nor with the Ministry; neither would lift a finger to help him with the dismal public opinion of the Malfoy family. If anything, they were keen to make things harder for him. Last and worst of all, he was quite alone. His school friends had all but abandoned him, and most everyone else he'd known since birth was either dead or locked up in Azkaban.

Draco wasn't used to being alone. Lonely, yes. Of course, lonely. But alone? He had always had his parents at home or his friends at school. Someone. Always someone. Sometimes so many someones that he wanted to scream and fly so far away that no one would ever find him. But as he sat in the morning room of Malfoy Manor drinking tea and pretending to read the same sentence in the Daily Prophet for the fourth time, he could not help but face the fact that he was well and truly on his own.

Except for Keys, but she hardly counted.

It would be one thing if he was in London, in Diagon Alley where he could get out into the bustle of the street. That would be something. But he was stuck in Wiltshire until the conclusion of the trial next Thursday. If all went well, he would get his wand back. He would get his life back. If it didn't go to plan... Well, at least he would know. There would be an end to it. It was the not knowing that was so hard.

The not knowing and the being alone. Draco didn't know which was worse.

He tried reading the same sentence in the Prophet again and failed. His nerves were too frayed. He threw the newspaper aside, then watched a picture of precious Potter and his little posse of Aurors striding in and out of view from the front page. The headline made Draco want to rip the paper in half.

HARRY POTTER BRINGS LESTRANGE TO JUSTICE

Draco's only surviving uncle, Rodolphus Lestrange, had just been sentenced to life in Azkaban. It was a hell of a time for the Ministry to be asking anything of Draco, but he couldn't afford to say no. He was willing to do anything to reconcile his public relations nightmare, even letting a mudblood into the house. And not just any mudblood. The mudblood.

His hand shook as he sipped his tea. It was stone cold. He hardly cared.

Apparently the great Hermione Granger required the use of the Malfoy library. That's what the letter had said. What reason she could possibly have for making such a demand was beyond him, especially since she would most certainly have the whole of the Hogwarts library as well as the Ministry's records at her disposal. Why should she need access to the largest collection of books on the Dark Arts in the country?

Draco told himself not to feel curious about it. There was nothing to be done except to allow it. After all, how could he say no to the Ministry's request on her behalf when they held his liberty by a single thread? It didn't matter why she was coming. It only mattered that today was the day.

Hermione Granger in his home again. Hermione Granger touching his family's things.

Draco stood up. "Keys," he said, and immediately a floppy-eared house-elf with a button nose and a tea towel toga appeared before him.

"Sir called for Keys?"

"I'll be in the garden. Find me when she gets here."

The house-elf bowed as Draco moved past her. He couldn't do much to blow off steam, but he could train, and that's exactly what he would do until the mudblood was at his door.

[rememberinggranger]

Stagnant is where Hermione Granger finds herself. Unmoving; basking in the greatness of the manor before her. The amount of preparation she had undergone was no match for the utter betrayal of her body at this moment.

A year had passed since Hermione was last inside Malfoy Manor. The last time she was here was under different circumstances.

Since then, Hermione had returned to Hogwarts to help rebuild, finish her seventh year, and take her N.E.W.T.s - to which she scored an outstanding and exceeds expectations on all seven. 

Without a home to go back to, Hermione has divided her time equally between Hogwarts and the Weasley burrow, once it was revived back to its original state. Days were spent with her nose in a book and quill on parchment, taking in all the information she needed to score well on her exams. It kept her busy and her mind focused on anything other than the shell shock and profound sorrow the year prior had put her through. She did everything in her power to keep busy so she wouldn’t think about the her lost loved ones, their brutal fight to the very end, and torture… she had endured on the floors of the mansion that loomed over her.

Absent-mindedly, she grabbed her forearm where the word mudblood had been carved into her skin. Flashbacks of the pain ensued by the cruciatus replayed in her mind without permission. Goosebumps rose as they always did when she let herself go back to that day, her body reacting to the memory of pain and agony.

Hermione shut her eyes tight to keep from panicking and she took three long, deep breaths. Her fear easing with every exhale.

“You can do this.” She reassured herself, taking a few brave steps up the stairs and approaching the ostentatious door.

After graduating, her life plan was clear. Become a member of the Ministry and infiltrate from the inside in hopes that she can make the Wizarding World a more accepting place for those who are discriminated against. Inclusivity for all creatures! It was a mighty goal, but one that Hermione was sure she could achieve.

After humbly accepting a position within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, there was one thing she had to do before she could execute her grand scheme to take over the Ministry for good. 

The decision to obliviate her parent’s memories was made to keep them safe throughout the second wizarding war. Though it caused her extreme hardship, she was confident that she could figure out a way to reverse the charm after the fact. However, her quest had become something of a treasure hunt.

Books have always given her the answers, but through her research, she’s come up short every time. Three days ago, she had officially run out of options but her determination never dwindled. She started cleverly picking the brains of anyone who would listen within the Ministry walls which is when she was given the idea to check the Mafloy’s library. Their library had an impressive collection of Dark Arts books, or so she was told. At first, Hermione shook off the idea. Malfoy manor was the last place she wanted to be and Draco… she simply couldn’t face him. But as she had absolutely no leads after weeks, it seemed to be her last option. And Hermione would do anything to get her parents back.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She reclined her hand from the door after her three hearty knocks and cleared her throat, her heart racing in her chest. Behind the door she heard a scurrying, and turned off a lock, and saw a small house-elf craning the large heavy door open with a grunt. 

“Ms. Granger. Come in.” The house elf billowed, and opened the door only wide enough for her to enter through, then with another grunt, closed the door behind her. 

Hermione desperately tried to open her mouth and thank the elf, but nothing came out. Her eyes chose a tile on the floor, and there they stayed affixed, not daring to look around. 

“Wait here.” The elf announced before scurrying off.  She took quick short breaths and repeated, you are safe now, a few times in her head. A tactic that helped when her anxiety was high. She smoothed her blazer and realized she still had her S.P.E.W. button pinned proudly on her chest. She quickly removed it and stuck it in a pocket, waiting for someone to escort her to the library so she could get on with her research and leave this manor as quickly as possible.

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at the booming voice of Draco Malfoy as it reverberated throughout the foyer. Arrogance surrounded him and bled out through his words just as she remembered.

Her S.P.E.W button sprung out of her breast pocket as if it was also frightened. As it made its dramatic descent to the tiled floor below, it seemed as if time stopped around it. Hermione was now watching her mistake happen in slow motion and having no way to stop it. The clatter of the plastic emitted a louder noise than she was prepared for. They both watched as the button settled neatly on the floor.

The situation was comical really. She couldn’t help but think about the irony of this button being on the manor floors of that family. A soft chuckle escaped as she stood looking at the abandoned button. The chuckle melded into a laugh and then to a full-on belly laugh. And it felt good. It felt freeing to find humor in something, even a small something. So she allowed herself this moment of happiness, however fleeting.

It was then that she met Draco’s eyes. The same eyes she grew up with. The same eyes behind the relentless bullying in school. The same eyes that stood by and did nothing as she screamed out for help being tortured at the hands of his own aunt.

Suddenly, the humor in the situation evaporated and flitted away into the staunch air the Malfoy Manor held. Hermione cleared her throat, bent down to retrieve her lost item, undid her blazer, and found a much safer home in the jetted pocket.

“I apologize.” She announced to the room, and redid her blazer.

Hermione took a moment to regroup. She straightened her back and clasped her hands together. A wave of nerves shot through her spine as Draco stood, not knowing what to make of her. Perhaps he thinks she went insane over the past year.

What did he know of her these days? Did he think of her before her request? Was he still harboring disdain for her? Oh course he was. She’d helped put half his family in Azkaban, afterall.

The last time they were in the same room was during her testimony, though she couldn’t bear to look at him. Keeping up with the Prophet, she’s aware of his family's trials and that his own trial is still pending. Rumors have spread around the Ministry about his parents leaving him to fend for himself. Perhaps they had a similarity, both longing for their parents' love, though, in different ways.

Absolutely not - no - no way was she letting her mind wander to empathy for Draco Malfoy. He wasn’t deserving of it. His opinions about her didn’t matter. All that mattered in this moment was his family's library.

“As you know,” Hermione started, her voice shaking. “I was sent on the Ministry's behalf to have a look through your library. Now if you don’t mind escorting me, I promise to be efficient and be out of your hair as quickly as possible.”

By the end of her practiced spiel, she became more confident and put together, as a proper witch of the Ministry should be.

[dracoslibrary]

Granger jumped at the sound of his voice, and Draco's smile stiffened as he suppressed a laugh. Not so high and mighty after all. She was nervous. Well, why shouldn't she be? He was a Death Eater.

His heart sank, and the smile on his face faltered. No matter what he did from now on, that was all the world would ever see him as. A dangerous criminal. Even if his trial ended as happily for him as it had for his parents, that stain would mark him forever.

Very suddenly, whatever Granger had put into her pocket fell out again onto the checkered marble floor and, inexplicably, Granger began to laugh. It was a true laugh, but a laugh that came from somewhere dark into the light. Draco understood a laugh like that all too well. Hadn't he laughed himself to tears over cutting his chin while shaving only that morning? How funny for a full-grown wizard to still be using a straight razor. How funny for Draco Malfoy of all people to be without his wand.

Granger must have seen something of the gallows humour in his eyes because she suddenly became serious. Perhaps she thought he was laughing at her.

Who cares what she thinks? he thought. What is she even doing here really?

As he watched, Granger bent to retrieve the — button, perhaps? — from the floor. Then she apologized, and Draco nearly laughed again. The thought of Hermione bloody Granger apologizing to him was too much. A sense of unreality settled over him. He would have thought he was dreaming, but he could never have thought up anything so ridiculous, so outlandish, as an apology from the mudblood.

From Granger. Now that she was standing right in front of him, he couldn't quite muster the nerve to think of her as "the mudblood" anymore. It felt wrong somehow. And the fact that it felt wrong also felt wrong. Draco passed a few moments in paralyzing confusion before Granger spoke again.

Her voice shook at first. It actually shook. The echoes in the foyer left no doubt about that, though she seemed to find her footing by the end of her little speech.

And she promised to be out of his way soon. Draco wasn't sure how he felt about that. Alone in the manor for days at a time with no one but Keys for company was no way to live. Then again, would having Granger around be any better? Only one way to find out.

"Of course," Draco said sardonically with an inclination of his head. "Anything for the Ministry." Then he turned on his heels and began to walk.

He didn't take the most direct route possible to the library. He wanted to avoid the portrait gallery where any one of his many ancestors may see what he was doing and run to tattle on him to his parents. He couldn't be sure the portraits knew what Granger looked like, but he wasn't willing to take that chance. It wasn't as if he'd had much of a choice in her being here. The last thing he wanted was an angry letter from his parents about it. Better to avoid as many portraits as possible along the way.

Though he wasn't often grateful for Keys, Draco had to admit as he walked through the corridors that the manor looked presentable again. At least Granger wasn't seeing the place as it was when the Death Eaters had left it. A shambles. Practically a ruin of its former grandeur. They had torn apart his family's home without a thought.

Now, however, the furniture was polished and the grand mirror in the hall repaired. The singe holes in the tapestries leading through to the west wing had been mended. The heavy curtains along their route had all been opened to let in the light. Even the parquet wood floors had been scrubbed to a shine. Yes, Keys was a decent house-elf. For once, Draco felt glad for her presence instead of merely tolerating it. He didn't have to feel embarrassed about his home. That was a small mercy, and he had Keys to thank for it.

Draco approached the double doors of the library and opened them with a flourish. Inside, he spread his arms wide as wall sconces illuminated themselves between the bookcases and several large globes hanging from a ceiling painted with constellations sputtered to light. It was an impressive room, and he knew it. He had spent all his life in this library, but he tried to see it as if for the first time through Granger's eyes.

Two storeys high with a spiral staircase at the centre of the room, the library represented centuries of careful curation and was the pride of his family alongside their vineyards in France. Carved wood panelling between the shelves and shelves of books gave the room a certain quiet warmth. Forest green curtains with black fringes and silver fastenings hung in the tall, mullioned windows where high-backed chairs stood together in twos and threes divided by little ornate side tables. It was a beautiful place, though Draco knew that it was also a dangerous place. One could get lost, and if one opened the wrong book in this library, one might never be found again.

Draco turned back to the entrance of the library and levelled his gaze at Granger. "Where do you want to start?"

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione was desperate.

Desperate to keep this interaction professional. Desperate to get her emotions under control. Desperate to see this leg of her journey through, however painful.

But the sarcasm.

It was silly of her to think that he would be any different. He was Draco Malfoy after all. The boy who couldn’t resist making others feel inferior to boost his self confidence. 

No, not boy. He was a man now. A Death Eater. 

Fear prickled up Hermione’s spine as they weaved in and out of rooms and corridors. She suddenly became acutely aware that she was alone with a known Death Eater. Anxiety rose like a title wave, threatening to come crashing down and ruin the pleasant demeanor she made quick work to affix. Questions bubbled up in its wake. What if this was all a trap? What if Draco was tasked to kill her and she gave him the perfect opportunity? Even without a leader and half the following, would the Death Eaters continue their torment? Perhaps she should have taken Ron’s offer to come with her.

Ron. She wasn’t sure if his presence would help or hinder, so she declined. Seeing him around the burrow was hard enough now-a-days without him being involved in something so personal. Though, she’s sure Ron is a tangled mess of nerves right now knowing where she is and who she’s with. Fighting the urge to apparate. It was sweet knowing how much he cared for her.

Hermione monitored Draco as he walked, her hand finding a home on the silk lining of her blazer where her wand was sheathed. He was taller than she remembered. His outgrown hair was tousled and slightly damp, she noticed. At this moment, she couldn’t remember the last time she was this close to Draco Malfoy. Close enough to watch his shirt move simultaneously with each step. To smell the musk he was emitting as he walked.

The only sound they were making was their shoes on the marbled flooring. The walk seemed extensive, even for a manor of this size. As Hermione walked she noticed how bare the manor seemed. The only thing giving life to this desolate estate was Draco and the house-elf. She read an article in the Profit claiming that Lucious and Narsissa fled after their trials. It looked as if there was truthfulness to that article and is truly meant to deal with his own trial alone.

Her daydreams came to a halt when they reached double doors and Draco threw them open. 

As she stepped inside the library she came to a quick realization that this had to be the most beautiful room she’d ever seen. Her mouth hung open as she walked past Draco and scanned the entirety of the room, not wanting to miss a single detail. As the room illuminated she couldn’t help but run her fingers over a line of books on the nearest bookcase. To have access to a library of this magnitude was something Hermione couldn’t comprehend.

At Draco’s question she turned back to him to answer. When she did, the memory of him watching idly as Bellatrix tormented her on the same cold flooring that was beneath her feet flashed quickly. She gasped and stumbled back a few steps before the image refocused back to the present. Her breath became labored as she came down from the flashback and she turned her back toward Draco to try and hide her dismay. 

“Anything that has to do with memory charms.” Her voice shook as she answered.

She walked behind a bookshelf, pretending to browse, and tried not to spiral into a panic attack that was often attached when these memories resurfaced.

“I am capable of searching alone.” Her voice raised so that he could hear her from behind the shelving. 

As a comfort, she unsheathed her wand and clasped both hands around it. She melted to the ground and took a seat as tears threatened to fall.

You are safe now. You are safe now. You are safe now.

[dracoslibrary]

Draco almost did it. He almost left her there to fend for herself in what might have been one of the world's most dangerous libraries.

Granger thought she knew everything. Let her try her luck against these books. Some had fangs. Some were poisonous to read. One manifested runespoors that would attack the unwary reader. One even required a blood sacrifice before text would appear on its pages. No, this library was not a safe place. Let her find out for herself.

He was halfway to the door when he stopped. As much as he would have liked to, he couldn't just leave Granger alone with the books. If she went missing at Malfoy Manor, he could kiss what little freedom he had left goodbye. The remainder of his trial would be a foregone conclusion. Draco couldn't afford for something bad to happen to Granger, and the idea of that was as frustrating as it was inevitable. Leave it to Granger to put him in the intolerable situation of having to actually help her.

"That's a pretty specific..." Draco started, rounding the corner of the bookcase to find Granger on the ground, her wand held out in front of her like a lantern in a storm. "Request," he finished. "What are you doing?"

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione turned her glare toward Draco as he rounded the corner and asked what she was doing. She didn’t expect compassion. Not from him, anyways. Nor was she willing to explain how much this manor was affecting her.

One single dramatic tear cascaded down her face as Hermione rose to her feet, her knuckles whitening around her wand. Wrath was boiling over, ready to spill out.

“Did you hear me? I said I’m capable on my own.” Venom seeped into her words.

She let the anger fester, desperate to find the source. She concluded to one single root of her rage. Draco Malfoy. From the torment she endured while they were just children at Hogwarts. The fact that his family largely contributed to the reason she had to erase her parents’ memories. His cowardice eyes that watched her succumb to torture. Presently, because she needs his help to resolve her biggest regret.

“If you do not trust me alone please send your house-elf to monitor. I’m sure she would be better company than you.”

To make a point, Hermione grabbed the first book in her reach. She pushed past Draco, making sure to check him with her shoulder as she did. Headed for seating, she opened the book to start her research when suddenly a heat rose from just under her fingers as she turned the first page. 

With a shout of pain, Hermione hastily dropped the book as it billowed flame and smoke and clambered to the floor. She took a few steps back and pointed her wand at the book.

“Aguamenti!”

It was a spell that she’s used more times than she could count. A spell she mastered well before anyone else in her charms class. But this time, the spray seemed to have a mind of its own. What is usually a small controllable stream was now a gush of wetness, spritzing water wildly in every direction. Luckily she was able to snuff out the fire that was threatening to burn down the entire manor, but in its wake it also doused everything in the immediate area including herself and Draco.

Hermione stood there dumbfounded and drenched, taking a moment to fully grasp what just happened.

[dracoslibrary]

Draco spluttered, and his soaked clothes clung to him as he sloshed in soggy shoes over to the book that still smouldered on the parquet wood floor. As he suspected, it was Ignatius Hellbent's Incendiarium. It was no longer on fire, but neither did it appear to be wet or damaged in any way. Instead, it steamed like a merry teapot, apparently well-pleased with itself.

He stared around at the charred and dripping bindings of the books on the shelves around them, listening to the deafening silence in the wake of a disaster averted. If Granger had ruined any of the priceless books in this library, there would be hell to pay. He would rip that wand out of her white-knuckled hands and make her regret the day she dared darken his doorstep. This was his family's legacy. This was his inheritance.

It hadn't occurred to him that swotty Hermione Granger would destroy books. He would never have agreed to this little farce had he known she could be so careless.

Draco rounded on Granger. He took a measured step toward her, then another, stalking forward with a rage building in him every bit as white-hot as the fire spells in the Incendiarium. His jaw clenched as his gaze burned into her.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

[rememberinggranger]

This wasn’t right. Hermione didn’t make mistakes with her magic. She studied and trained too hard to be losing control of her wand. Indeed she was lucky that this didn’t become a dangerous situation… but the books. It was against everything in her moral compass to do harm to books. Even if they came from the Malfoy manor. Even if they caused harm to her.

Drenched to the bone, wet fabric clung to her skin. Her wavy ringlets were straightened by the heaviness of the water. What little makeup she had on was surely melting down her face leaving smears of black. Her shoes sloshed as she readjusted her stance, uncomfortability settling in.

The sound of water droplets echoed through the library as newly formed puddles pooled, ever expanding as the chaos settled. Hermione rubbed the excess wet out of her eyes and when she did, winced in pain. The tips of her fingers started forming blisters from the fire. She held up a shaky hand to inspect the damage while she tried to formulate a plan to right this wrong.

It didn’t occur to her to check on Draco until she heard his sloshing footsteps through the settled puddles. When she looked up he was stalking toward her, seeing red. Hermione’s heartbeat quickened as Draco drew near, like a predictor hunting his prey.

She took a few steps back from him and extended her wand in defense. It was an empty promise. She would never use magic against someone seemingly defenseless. Then again, his demeanor threatened violence.

“Stay back.” She announced firmly, her wand becoming an extension of her arm. “Please don’t hurt me.”

The plea was uttered just above a whisper, fear evident in her voice.

When he spoke, it was as if he was breathing fire.

“What have I done?” Hermione rebutted, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that she can see right through his shirt. “What have you done? This would not have happened if you had told me these books were charmed. This is your fault, Draco Malfoy. I will not take the blame for this.”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco stopped an inch away from the tip of Granger's wand. His hands were balled into fists. His heart pounded and his ears rang with her words.

"My fault? My fault? Look around, you crazy bint. You did this. I barely had a chance to get a word in before you went off grabbing the first book you saw." He slapped her wand away from his chest and leaned in. Her make-up ran down her face from her wide eyes, and he could feel her breath heaving hard against his cheeks. It was closer than he could ever remember being to Granger. How he loathed her.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?"

[rememberinggranger]

As Draco walked closer, her heart quickened pace and it felt like it might explode. She didn’t protest when he slapped her wand away, knowing full well she wouldn’t have used it.

For a moment, she was struck with genuine fear. But as he leaned in, the fear melded into something unfamiliar to their distaste for one another. She let out and involuntarily gasp as his mouth drew closer to her ear. Drops of water fell from his dripping form onto her neck and chest. Hermione was losing focus.

His voice was husky as he spoke and she let out a sharp breath. Had she ever been this close to Draco Malfoy? Perhaps the only time she’d had was when she punched him their third year.

He was different now. The cowardice that befell him wasn’t present today. Either that or anger overtook that side of him.

She let him stay close for far too long, her chest raising and falling in tandem with his. The closeness they shared sparked an excitement within her that she couldn’t fully comprehend. Her body started to shiver, and she wondered if it was from her soaked clothes or something else.

She gently placed her hand on his chest and pushed herself away from him, breaking from whatever trance she fell into.

Looking around at the now settled Aguamenti disaster, she knew he was right and loathed him for being so.

“Fine.” Hermione relented, wrapping her arms around her body to subside the shivering. “Though I will not take full blame. You should have mentioned it the second we walked in.”

She avoided his eye contact as she spoke.

“I’m sure everything can be restored and I will help you. Not for your sake, but because I won’t let beautiful, historical books go to waste because my wand decided to act up.”

[dracoslibrary]

She touched his chest, and he felt her shaking through the palm her her hand. It was warm. He had never imagined her so warm. His breath hitched and his eyes closed for just a moment. A long moment.

Something. There was something wrong about this moment. Draco's heart thudded in his ears so loudly that he almost missed her words. The sound of her voice was... his tongue darted out to slide along his lower lip. Suddenly he was very aware of a buzzing electricity in his body, of his soaking white shirt hanging off of his muscled frame.

Did she notice? Was she as distracted as he was?

Then her hand was gone and Draco almost fell forward in its absence.

What had she said? Had she just agreed with him?

Draco opened his eyes again. He cleared his throat. He stood up straight.

Granger was hugging herself. She hadn't noticed his momentary lapse in judgement. She didn't care that he had... Had he? No. Surely not.

Draco had not thought about Granger in that way. He hadn't thought how that hand would feel sliding over his chest, plucking at the buttons of his shirt. He hadn't thought of her approaching him, closing the distance. What he would do. What she might allow...

No. She was talking about the books. Fuck the books.

No. Wait. She had scorched and then drenched more than two dozen books in his precious library with her ridiculous antics. Granger had done that. This Granger in front of him.

She was distracting him. This was her fault. He couldn't think straight with her so close.

With a great effort, he took a few steps back. "The books," he said stupidly. "Yes." He cleared his throat again. "You're bloody right you'll fix this. And then you'll go."

[rememberinggranger]

Panic shot through her when he demanded she go, far before she was ready. Briefly, she forgot why she was here in the first place. From the moment she stepped foot in this manor it felt like chaos was following her. She prided herself in being an extremely put together woman, and now she was losing her mind in the presence of her mortal enemy.

“No, I can’t leave until I’ve finished my research.” She pleaded, “I can’t even begin to explain how important this is. I understand I caused harm but I will put things right if you only let me stay.”

Desperation was in her voice, but she didn’t care. This could very well be her last hope in returning her parents memory.

“Anyways, I’m the one with a wand. You need my help unless you have a hair dryer on hand.”

A bit of a dig, sure. She’ll have a laugh as he tries to figure out what a hair dryer is.

Just then, Keys sulked through the library’s entrance and stopped dead in her tracks, seeing the disarray.

“Is Keys needed, sir?”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco nearly sighed audibly in relief at the appearance of the house-elf in the library. He supposed he wouldn't be needing Granger's help after all. Or a "hair dryer," whatever that was. That freed him up to get to the bottom of what the bloody hell was going on.

"Keys," he said, "see to this mess." He gestured vaguely at the damaged books. Keys gave a curt nod and got to work.

Draco turned his piercing grey gaze back to Granger. "You. Explain. What research? I thought you were here on behalf of the Ministry." He pulled the Ministry's letter—a little damper than he would have liked, but still legible—out of his back pocket and tossed the tri-folded parchment onto one of the library's little tables between them. "What is going on? The truth, Granger."

[rememberinggranger]

Hermione eyed Draco after his demand toward the elf, furrowing her brow with distaste.

“Thank you, Keys.” She said to the house-elf before she got to work drying the area around them.

When Draco turned back to her, butterflies manifested in her gut, flitting about careless to whom was making her fluster. Was it lingering fear? Surely that’s the explanation to why Hermione suddenly felt tingly. Not his grey eyes she fear she might get lost in.

Focus.

She nearly cursed herself for revealing why she’d made a request through the ministry to use his library. She watched as Draco tossed the request parchment onto the table between them, likely worded professionally with little to no information as to why.

Conflict rose from within her. Once revealed, Draco likely wouldn’t care about her problems. But it was so personal to her and difficult to talk about without becoming emotional.

With a sigh, she softened.

“I-“ She dipped her head and cast her gaze down to her shoes. “I’m not sure why it should matter to you, but I need to reverse a memory charm.”

That’s all she was going to say, but as she squashed around in damp shoes, she made the decision to concede.

“I erased my parents memories of me before… well you know. I wanted to keep them safe in case Death Eaters-“ she looked up at him to see his reaction, “tried harming them.”

With a deep breath she continued, “I also didn’t want them to feel loss if I died protecting Harry.”

She put a hand up in defense of her next statement.

“And please, don’t tell me it’s irreversible. I’ve been told numerous times by so many people. But there must to be a way. There has to because if there isn’t…”

She trailed off, not daring to finish that sentence as tears started to well.

“So please, I beg of you Draco. Do not usher me out. This, your library, it is my last hope.”

[dracoslibrary]

She was going to cry. Granger was begging him for help, and she was actually going to cry. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have been doing a jig.

But she looked so pitiful, and he felt an emptiness in the well of his gut when he thought of sending her away now. Why? Why did he care?

Because, he told himself, she was his ticket out of his mess with his trial. The warm excitement of an idea settled over Draco's chest. With Granger's good opinion secured, he was practically guaranteed a verdict of not guilty. She just had to get the rest of her friends who were slated to testify to speak in his favour, and how hard would that be for the smartest witch he'd ever known? Not that he would ever tell her that.

What he would tell her were his terms. Draco chose his next words carefully.

"You want my library. I want my freedom," he said. "All I care about is getting my life back. You help me with my trial, and I'll help you navigate this library. And I won't write to the Daily Prophet about what you just told me about your parents."

Just then, Keys blasted Draco all over with hot air, drying him off in an instant but leaving him a bit bewildered and more than a little indignant at the abruptness of Keys' magic. But he controlled his annoyance, reaching up to comb his hair back with his fingers and enjoying the sensation of being dry again.

Draco looked around at the library. The only thing left out of order was the Incendiarium still lying on the floor. Keys knew better than to touch a book from this library. Smart elf.

Draco walked over and picked up the still slightly steaming book. He replaced it on the shelf, then turned back to face Granger.

"So. Do we have a deal?"

[rememberinggranger]

Silly of Hermione to think that a Malfoy would have any empathy. Silly of Hermione to open her heart to him in hopes that he would be compassionate about her situation. Unfortunately she couldn’t take it back now. All of her cards were on the table.

If the Profit caught wind of this, there would be backlash. Everyone knew that using magic on or around non-magic folk was strictly forbidden. It is a punishable offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t technically graduated Hogwarts and was using magic outside of school. The Ministry was kind enough to turn the other cheek when she confessed and asked for guidance, but the public might not be as forgiving. It could hinder her future opportunities, or worse, force the Ministry to reconsider.

Then again, who would believe a known Death Eater who is awaiting trial. That last thought almost made her laugh. Who was she kidding. They’d publish any scandal that came their way, true or not. Especially about a Seconding Wizard War hero. Oh what gossip that article would stir.

She didn’t answer his proposition immediately. Instead she made an internal pro con list. If she agreed, Ron and Harry would be furious with her. Helping Draco Malfoy. The villain in their story. It seemed too ridiculous to even think about.

On the other hand… her parents. The blackmail Draco threatened.

Deep in decision making, she didn’t even notice the elf that appeared beside Draco, blasting him with dry air. She looked around at the books she’d nearly destroyed and they seemed to be restored back to their original conditions. She let out a sigh of relief as a now dry Draco place the charmed book back in its home.

Keys started toward Hermione and she held her hands out in protest.

“Oh no, I can do it-“

But she spoke a little too late and Keys blasted her with the same hot air. It nearly blew her shirt and blazer clean off. She clasped her shirt together until the elf felt like she was dry enough and let off.

“Thank you.” Hermione said, feeling more comfortable already.

She can only imagine the puff ball that now lay on top of her head. She gathered her hair and wrapped it a few times. Skillfully, she weaved her wand through the bun she crated until it was stuck in place. She did her best to wipe the streams of mascara from her face without a mirror to help guide her.

When he asked if they had a deal, she had not yet decided.

“Help… how?”

[dracoslibrary]

Draco watched Granger skillfully trap her unruly hair into a messy bun and wipe the faint make-up streaks from her cheeks. In moments, she was presentable again. More than presentable.

He looked away and composed his face into a mask of indifference as Granger asked how she could help him. It wasn't possible for him to be thinking of Granger as anything other than a know-it-all mudblood with delusions of her own importance. It wasn't possible for him to care about her problems or priorities. So he simply wouldn't. He wouldn't care.

"Keys," Draco snapped. "Bring tea."

Keys didn't hesitate; she disappeared with a pop that left a ringing silence in its wake.

Draco gazed at the spines of the books in the nearest bookcase and thought about how to reply to her question. How. How could she help him? The idea of Granger helping him was laughable. It simply shouldn't be. But he had to take it seriously. Because without her, his future was uncertain. With her, he stood a chance. As disgusting as it was, he would have to play nice. He would have to get this girl on his side.

She was a bleeding heart. It should be easy. Though he'd already bungled things by threatening her with exposure. He would have to rectify that. Tactics, tactics. He hadn't been playing the game before. He was playing now.

"I'm alone here. My parents are gone. It's just me and the elf," Draco began. He dropped his pretence of composure, allowed the fear and uncertainty of the last year to show on his face. His lips parted, turned down in a frown. He made his eyes wide and sad. "And I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what will happen to me next week at the trial. Weasley and Potter haven't testified yet. I need your help getting them to see my side of things. I just want the chance to explain..." He broke off, his voice too full of emotion to continue, and he began to wonder how much of his little performance was, in fact, real.

Too much, he decided. He didn't want to reveal too much all at once.

Lure her in. Make her listen. Gain her sympathy.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He almost didn't want to look at her, was almost afraid of what he would find when he did, but he forced himself to turn and face her.

Give her the truth. Just a little of it. Just a hint.

"I don't... I don't want to be on my own anymore."

[rememberinggranger]

“Your side of things? Explain?” Hermione breathed, her brow furrowed and voice laced with disbelief. When he turned back around she made sure not to break eye contact so he could see how disgusted she was at this proposition.

“You must be joking, Malfoy.” Using his last name in vein was a reminder to herself of where his loyalties lie.

“After everything you’ve done. What exactly do you have to explain?“

But as she studied him closer, she could see the pain and loneliness in his eyes. The softness that fell upon him as he spoke. Watching his parents flee before his final trial is… heartbreaking. No child should ever have to endure selfishness through their parents.

Hermione, no.

Feeling empathy for the man who aided in the loss of loved ones? Was she mad?

Memories of Dumbledore echoed through her mind, like a lighthouse that guided her home. Fred. Dobby. Lupin and Tonks. Her parents memories. Harry, nearly.

All for the sake of purification and the execution of her own kind. Those born to muggles. Those who were “dirty”.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes in frustration.

“Help me to understand. You want me to convince my…” she paused, reminding herself of her relationship with Ron. “friends to speak on your behalf after years of torment. After all the hardship you caused us. How in Merlin’s name do you suggest I achieve this goal?”

Her eyes flicked downward to his forearm, a hint of black from his mark shown through his dress shirt. She knew exactly where his moral compass pointed.

[dracoslibrary]

Not so gullible after all. And Draco didn't miss her glance at his left forearm, either. Granger was nobody's fool.

Damn.

Draco tried again. He held his hands out in an open gesture as if inviting her in, and he let his mask slip a little further. The grief and pain he held dammed back every moment of every day flooded in. It washed his face over with misery and guilt and heartache. He let it break inside him like waves in a storm. He let it course through his veins until his muscles ached to run, run, run.

He stayed put. He forced himself to talk.

Talk.

"We might not have been... friendly... at school, but does that mean I deserve to go to Azkaban for the rest of my life? I wasn't... Look, this is hard for me. The last few years have been... difficult. You have no idea."

This wasn't working. She would never believe him. He would never get through to her. Hopelessness twisted in his chest.

In a rush, he ripped at the button of his sleeve and bunched up the fabric obscuring the Dark Mark until it lay naked before her gaze. He couldn't look at it, the thing that had burned and writhed on his arm, the mark that had sealed his fate so long ago. Nausea curdled in his stomach.

He hated it. He hated it.

"You think I wanted this? I didn't want—" His voice broke. Words failed. He stared at her with pleading eyes, willing her to understand.

He was suddenly so tired. He just wanted it to end.

Draco couldn't play this game anymore, not even for a few minutes. There was almost nothing of his old self left, despite what he pretended. He was too broken. He was too ruined.

He didn't want her help. He needed it.

Draco held his breath. And waited.

[rememberinggranger]

Despite her best efforts, Hermione’s heart twisted into a knot as Draco poured his out. Compassion encompassed her critical thinking as it so often did. Hermione’s hamartia.

She watched his desperation as he dug his Dark Mark out from underneath fabric and put it on display. It took everything in her not to flinch, remembering how long she had to look at Bellatrix’ matching symbol while she had her way with Hermione.

Without warning, she started taking steps toward him. This was a decision her body made on its own. Slowly, she closed the distance between them. She wanted to see the mark that was branded on him up close. She wanted to see the mark that she’s been so afraid of for years.

When they were mere inches apart she absentmindedly traced the snake from its head to the skull affixed on top with her scorched fingertips. Her touch so gentle, his skin tickled underneath hers. She felt electricity between them. Enough for goose-pimples to rise on her skin. Could he feel it too?

She was relieved to find out that the Dark Mark alone couldn’t hurt her. It was the human attached to the brand that had all the power.

“You didn’t want this?” She asked, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes, her own eyes wide, desperate for clarification.

[dracoslibrary]

His eyes didn't leave hers as Draco placed his hand gently over Granger's to stop her tracing the Mark.

"Don't," he said, so low it was barely a whisper.

He couldn't bear to have her touching it. The agony, the shame of it was too much. He turned his arm over so that he wouldn't have to look at the thing, and, as if in response to his desire to have it out of his sight, the fabric of his sleeve slid down over the Mark, mostly obscuring it.

Draco held Granger's hand in his and noticed the angry red blisters forming on her fingers for the first time. He turned her hand over slowly, carefully, cradling it in his own as he examined it.

"You're hurt."

If he'd had his wand—but of course, he didn't have his wand. He did have Dittany in the house. He didn't bother to offer. He had no doubt Granger could heal herself much more effectively than any dose of Dittany.

In the back of his mind, he realized how insane this was. He shouldn't be touching Granger at all. She shouldn't be so close. He shouldn't want her there. But he was so alone, and he was so afraid.

"No," he said into the silence settling between them. "No, I didn't want this."

[rememberinggranger]

The knot that entangled her heart tightened at his touch. Without even a glance he removed the mark from sight as if he couldn’t bare to look at it. His agony engulfed them and almost suffocated Hermione. These emotions were real. He was being honest. Hermione’s heart bled out.

Instead of shying away from her touch, he embraced it. Whatever walls she’d built were crumbling down as she watched him turn her hands over to examine the burns, the only evidence left of her little accident. Concern was genuinely displayed on his face. Concern. For a mudblood.

Something was different now. He was different. Her thoughts raced trying to accept that Malfoy didn’t want to become a Death Eater. That’s all he’d ever been to her. An evil that she tried to fight for years. Until the end of it all. Now he stood inches away from her, their hands intertwined in each others. Both of them broken, bruised, and branded.

Hermione recoiled her hands from his, immediately missing his touch in its absence. She shimmied off her blazer and placed it nicely on the arm of the closest chair. Carefully, she unbuttoned the silk at her wrist and rolled the arm of her blouse up neatly. The paused for a moment before turning her forearm over and displaying her scar. Her own brand.

She grabbed Draco’s hand and placed it gently on top of the letters. Part of her hoped that seeing her scar would hurt him. That it a would make him feel ashamed and uncomfortable. He knows where it came from. He was there, after all.

“I understand. More than you know. Being back here in your manor is agonizing. I can’t get that day out of my mind. Laying on the cold floor in excruciating pain. Being tortured and branded by…” He knew. “I am different. I’m not the same brilliant bookworm you grew up with. I am broken now.”

She expected tears to be paired with these words, but all she felt was emptiness. Exhaustion falling over her. Her chest hollow.

Just then, Keys popped back into the room with a cacophony of porcelain clanking. With a gasp, Hermione side stepped away from him, letting his hand drop. Her heart started racing as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

Was she doing something wrong?

Hermione cleared her throat, unrolled her sleeve, and walked over to where the tea tray was placed. She gave a curt thank you to Keys. Her walls rebuilding.

“Admittedly, I’m unsure if helping you is a wise decision.” She announced, finding herself for the first time since being in the manor. Her normal level-headed politeness returning to her.

“However, you’ve caught me in an extremely weakened state and I’ll do anything to figure out how to get my parents back, blackmail or not.” She sat down across from the tea tray and cast her gaze up at Malfoy. “I will speak to the boys on your behalf but I cannot promise anything. You are… not their favorite person. As you well know.”