Harry Potter 1. The Note

A/N: Don't just read…REVIEW! And enjoy

Disclaimer: Oh if only I owned all of this…but alas…I don't. Only Lyra and a few other characters from my own mind.

**Prologue**

**The Note**

To the only family I have left:

There will always be this tear in my soul, the pain of which I con never tolerate. It is the guilt I bear that keeps me silent, my days long. Night seems to be my only solace. The ever-changing moon, the never changing stars. They do not judge my actions. Their long lives will see evils greater than mine arise from the ashes of failure.

And yet when the sun reclaims the sky, people gain their vile words. Their hateful stares. Their poisoned looks. They are so blissfully ignorant of circumstance that they scrutinize everyone's actions but their own.

However, the judgment I place upon myself is far greater than any punishment they devise. It is stronger than these bars I'll soon be free of, for I can never escape the cage of my own design. The walls I place around myself are constructed, not of stone or metal, but of hate and fear. And guilt. One mustn't forget guilt.

My name is Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, father of Lyra Malfoy and widower of the only woman brave enough to love me. I have survived through pain only with her love. Now that she has left me alone, I cannot go on. My daughter has moved on- now I can too.

Lyra- my beautiful daughter- I can only hope my story will lay to rest your unease about your own past. Please read it and then decide if your blame is misplaced.

Draco Malfoy-


	2. Losses and Remorse

A/N: I'm sorry, this may be a little boring, but I have to set the story…

Must I write the Disclaimer every time?

**Chapter One**

**Losses and Remorse**

Graduation. It was supposed to be a happy time for most classes. Not ours. It was a graduation plagued by loss and sorrow. Out of the many children to arrive at Hogwarts seven years ago, only twenty-five stayed, or survived, to see graduation. Ten from Gryffindor, seven from Ravenclaw, five from Hufflepuff, and three from my own house of Slytherin.

I really didn't want to be there, seeing as how my own mother was killed in the final war. The only consolation I had was that the person responsible for her death had joined her there. I only wished I had been the one to kill him. All I had left was my father, and he was nowhere to be found. So I was alone, a seventeen year old wizard whose name was badly tarnished. Pansy was sitting to my left, Crabbe to my right, as the great old bat of a wizard, Dumbledore, gave his end of the year speech. I wasn't really listening, my mind elsewhere. I found myself gazing over the heads of the students remaining and remembered how we had all fought amongst ourselves, starting our own little war in these halls. The teachers could not teach, and the students refused to learn. Our last year in school was wasted on those petty squabbles.

I was so deep in thought that I did not see who my gaze landed on until she looked over at me, confusion in her eyes. Hermione Granger. Not in the mood to fight, I averted my gaze. She had a fire in her eyes now that wasn't there when we first met. She had become a little less strict and a bit more . . . dark. She had suffered a great loss, but not only from a person. She had suffered a loss of her innocence. A loss of her naiveté. I had heard that she was moving on to the Ministry, working in Muggle Relations. _A fine position for her,_ I thought to myself.

Sitting next to her was Ron Weasley, the scourge of the wizarding world. Or so I had believed. Now I had a greater respect for him, as I saw him fight for his friends. He had also changed and sorrow followed him as a duckling to its mother. Four of the Weasley children had been killed, among them Ginny. The Dark Lord had finally fulfilled his threat from almost five years previous. Ron's loss could never compare with his mother, though. She had lost her husband as well, leaving her alone with three of her remaining children. With Ron graduating and Ginny dead, she truly had no one. I almost sympathized.

Dumbledore finished his speech and scattered clapping echoed throughout the Great Hall. All I wanted was to leave this damned school and get on with whatever meager life I was going to live. No such luck. As the feast began and parents stood up to mingle, Hermione left Ron's dreary side and approached me.

"How are you doing, Draco?" she asked calmly, sitting beside me. I shrugged, picking at the small amount of food I had on my plate.

"Why don't you tell me? I have no family left. No real friends. Life is going just so well for me."

I could tell that she was trying not to show the pity she felt and it made my shame boil up inside. No longer was I just a boy who lashed out at anyone I looked down on. No no, I was not that boy any more. I did not hate this woman in front of me simply because she was not a pureblood. Instead, I almost envied her for that, as being pureblood was one of the main criteria for the Dark Lord's Army.

So I did not hate her for being what she was. Nor did I hate Weasley. I only hated the one who had died, the one who had slain my mother. Hermione placed a hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch.

"Draco, you have friends." I turned on her, all my frustration raging over.

"Do you think you are my friend now? You think that since we fought the same battle that you are my friend? If that is the case, you know nothing of me, little girl," I hissed, taking a sip of the cider in front of me. She recoiled, almost as if I had hit her. The truth was, I wanted –needed- friends more than ever. But there was something about her that I could not name, and that frightened me. I don't like to be frightened of the unknown.

"But Draco. . ." she started before Pansy Parkinson cleared her throat threateningly. That snobby little brat had not changed as most others had. She was still the sniveling, conniving priss who bared her teeth but could not bite.

Looking hurt, Hermione stood up and walked away to where her parents waited for her. I watched her with interest, thinking how she looked that night in the rain. The lights from the spells that flew all around bounced off of the glistening rainwater clinging to her hair. I had watched her then too, fought beside her against the Dark Lord and against my only father. The image of his surprise and hateful fear when I pointed my wand at him is forever burned in the back of my mind. I allowed him to run away that night, as my mother's screams filtered through the rest of the noises of the battle. I fought back a tear at the memory of my clumsy path to her, getting hit by a few curses along the way. Hermione was there, helping me find my mother. My former enemy grabbed my arms, pulling me through the mud, even as I pushed her away. When a curse hit me, she performed the counter curse. When I fell, she hauled me to my feet. Our sweat mixed with the rainwater as we came across the fallen body of my mother alone beside a great tree. Standing above her was a teenage boy, normally unruly black hair held down by the water. His glasses had fallen somewhere in the forest we were all in and his wand tip was down, right at my mother. Uttering a cry of rage, I had lunged at him. Hermione, ever watchful, had pushed me back down into the mud.

"She attacked me, Draco. I had to defend myself," the other boy had pleaded. Hate filling my vision, I stared up at him and willed him dead with all my might. Hermione, with help from magic I assumed, kept me pinned to the ground. Then that red haired Weasley, Fred, broke in on us. He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him away without a word to anyone. Later, I found out that the Dark Lord had appeared and Harry's turn had come. Both of their bodies had been discovered last, only a few feet away from each other. Fred's remains were a few paces away. The Dark Lord had finally faced his fear but Harry would see his parents again. Not a fitting punishment for the murderer of my mother.

Second A/N: Please Review, guys . . . please? I need to know what's going on with this story and everything helps. (Although praise is nice too!) Tell me if you want to read more, or I will take this one off. I don't want this to be a collect dust story! So reviews, pretty please?


	3. The Homecoming

A/N: To all my ONE fan. . . here 'ya go! This chapter has a little more dialogue in it, for those of you who like that sort of thing. Shakes head Talking…who would want to do that?

((Insert Disclaimer here))

Chapter Two

Homecoming

The graduation ceremony lasted under an hour, feast and all. The students of all years filed onto the train after bidding their parents farewell. I sat in a compartment with the ever silent Crabbe, reading the paper. As usual, there was only mentioning of re-growth of the community, nothing about my father. He was the only Death Eater to escape, but no one expressed much concern for the lost Malfoy. Too many other events overshadowed it. Disappointed and disgusted, I threw the newspaper against the other wall of the compartment in frustration. Crabbe remained statue-like, not even flinching at the sudden movement and sound. Losing half your soul to a dementor will do that to a boy . . .

I gave a start as the compartment door opened and a confident voice announced her presence.

"Draco?"

Swallowing my pride, I looked up at the newcomer.

"Yes, Hermione?" I placed my feet up against the other bench and laid back, trying to act nonchalant. I would die before she would see me so distressed again.

"Talk to me, Draco," she almost pleaded, her eyes soft as she sat across from me. She shot a worried look to Crabbe, but he didn't even notice.

I remained silent, shaking my head, not in an answer, but in frustration. What could she want to talk about? Ron? Harry? That night in the forest when she had saved me?

Hermione sighed. It was clear that she hadn't really expected an answer. She absently ran a hand through her hair, trying to tame it. Her locks had, over the years, become curlier and not so frizzy. And so she had developed a nervous habit of attempting to make them lay flat. I brought my hand to hers and pulled it back down before releasing her. She looked at me quizzically.

"You shouldn't do that. It looks better when you just leave it be." I thought that I detected a blush, but I brushed it off. Who cared if she responded to a compliment? She was also the one who had kept me from avenging my mother. However, I could not force myself to feel anything bad about her. She had come like a golden saint, helping me when I needed her. I was in her debt, a place that I didn't like to be.

"Just a habit, I suppose . . ." she said idly, waving my hand further away, "Anyway, what I came to ask you was if you would be by yourself in your home?"

I looked at her patiently. She knew the answer to that. What did she really want from me? She seemed to wither under my hard eyes so I offered her a small smile. I was changed as well. I did not live to torment others.

"You know that I will be. Other than the house-elves." I laughed as she tried to keep herself from speaking out. Shaking her head in amusement at herself, the tension was broken. She leaned forward.

"Are you sure that you won't need anything?" I met her gaze evenly and kept my smile. When I nodded, she sighed a bit before leaning back once more.

"Where's Ron?" I asked about an hour later. She was the one taking care of him now that he had fallen into a depression. She looked out the window, seemingly entranced with the scenery.

"He's having one of his spells," she answered without looking at me. I knew at once what she meant. Ron's "spells" were his deepest bouts of depression. He would sit and stare at nothing, much as Crabbe. Not saying anything, he would stay that way for hours and no amount of talking could make him pay attention. As much as I wanted to think otherwise, there were no happy endings for the students of Hogwarts. Goyle was dead, Crabbe might as well be. Ron was surviving as if he had a dementor trailing after him. Hermione was living with the memory of thousands of her classmates dead or dying, not to mention her favorite teachers. And I . . . I was dreaming a nightmare and I would wake up alone.

The few hours of peace I had, sitting with Hermione, came to a harsh and unwelcome end. We hadn't said anything since the mention of Ron, nor did we say anything as we gathered our things. I had to help Crabbe find his parents on the station, since he didn't remember them, before I could find a place to Disapparate.

I opened my eyes and found myself on the grounds of my home. House elves surrounded me in a flash, taking my suitcases and telling me what they had done for the house and for supper. Holding up my hand, I silently ordered them to leave me be. They scattered, taking my suitcases along, and I was left by myself.

I didn't go up to the house first. Instead, I made my way to the stables, my only solace. The horses were taken care of, not by a house elf, but by a servant who lived on the grounds. His name was Camdin, but all my life I simply called him Cam. He was an older man, surpassing both my parents in years. But unlike them, Cam was a Squib and had no other means of supporting himself.

I wandered among the stalls of our five Arabian horses, giving them a few words of soothing before moving on to the next one. My favorite, a grey mare I called Aurora, whinnied as I approached. Smiling genuinely for the first time in ages, I stroked her muzzle, pulling a carrot that had suddenly "appeared" in my pocket. She snatched it greedily. The laugh I let out seemed harsher than I remembered, but it was a start.

Leaving my sanctuary, I took the long way to the house, only going inside because the clouds threatened rain. I could smell dinner on the table, a place set for one. It was then I realized that my family would not be joining me. I would no longer hear them fight at the table or make up at the table. My mother would never pressure me into asking about school while my father watched in either stony silence or with pride. I leaned against the doorframe and buried my head in my hands, the smell of pork invading my nose. I felt bile in my throat and feared I would be sick. I didn't want to move though. I just let my terrible tears flow. For the first time, I cried.

A/N: Please, please, please review! Those are what I thrive off of! So . . . will you review? Pretty please?


	4. Unanticipated Visitor

A/N: And yet another chapter from my dark and twisted mind! Enjoy! And a great big thanks complete with hug for Chelsea Frog for her review!

((Yeah, yeah, we all should know by now that I am not the Master of Harry Potter))

Chapter Three

Unanticipated Visitor

That night I slept on the couch in our –my- living room. I didn't have the energy to crawl upstairs to my own bed. The first week alone I don't know what kept me from jumping off my third story window. Sheer willpower, I suppose. The kind the made me want to prove to the world that I could live on my own. Soon, though, I began to worry about the future. I had no source of income, save the hundreds upon thousands of Galleons in my family's vault. That would soon run out, however, and I would have nothing. I had collected seven O.W.L s in my fifth year, but only one N.E.W.T. I had no plan of action for my future. This sent me in a deeper spiral, imagining life on the streets, my pride damaged beyond all repair as I scrimped and saved what little I could.

I shook that thought out of my head. I had plenty of gold to keep me comfortable for at least five years or so. By then I knew I would have a job. But the thought kept plaguing me for the next few weeks.

At the beginning of my first full month at home, I received a knock at my door. The house elves had already answered it by the time I trudged downstairs. A pair of beady dark eyes peered at me through long, black locks. I didn't know at that moment, when the thought of my plight was in full force, that the man before me would have the answer.

"Hello Professor Snape," I said, disappointed. I don't know who I was expecting to show up. My father maybe. I really didn't know how to react if his calculating eyes were resting on me instead of Snape's. I wasn't angry with him, no. Nor was I happy, either. I just felt that, if he returned, that things could return to normal. That the simplicity of my life would return. I could go on with my life hating the Weasley's for their Muggle loving. And I could continue to antagonize Hermione with talks of being a Mudblood and a Muggle-born. However, inside, I knew that wouldn't be possible. I knew that I could never return to that life. It was but a fleeing memory, along with my father. I could no longer remember his face, his scent, his harsh voice. To me, though, he was my past. The life that I knew, that I could predict. But instead of my past showing up, it seemed my future was.

"Draco, it has come to my attention that your father has yet to return, leaving you in full possession of his assets and no way to gain income. Your poor achievements in the classroom can be explained away to the Headmaster, but not to anyone wishing to hire you."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Snape continued on in a tone that I had come to fear very well.

"But that may not be a problem, should you not work for anyone. Instead, I suggest that you take advantage of the closing of a certain apothecary in Diagon Alley. If nothing else, you do seem to show a knack for Potions, hence the reason for your single N.E.W.T. I can start you off with a supply of my own basic potions, but you must make the rest from there."

Snape handed me a piece of fine parchment, signed by both Snape and someone with handwriting so loopy I couldn't decipher it.

"What is this?" I asked, taking the parchment in front of me. Snape sneered.

"Don't tell me that you spent seven years in my classroom and you can't read."

I cursed myself for even asking. I knew he would come up with some answer like that. Looking at the parchment, I realized that it was some sort of contract. Reading further, I learned that Snape had purchased the shop, temporarily. In the wizarding world at least, I had to wait until my eighteenth birthday before the shop actually became mine. Until my birthday, only a week away, Snape owned the shop.

I was actually grateful for the help, the convenient end to my personal battle. But there was also a part of me, a small part of my past, which was insulted. I fought that part down, knowing that Snape would take away everything that he had just handed to me without thinking. He cared nothing for my pride and would do anything to prove to himself, through me, that my father did not scare him. If that meant leaving me to myself, then so be it.

Needless to say I was not willing to take that chance. I didn't let my arrogance get in the way of what I needed any more.

"Thank you, Sir. I will see to the shop in the morning."

Snape seemed to be as surprised with my answer and tone as I was. He blinked once and then quickly regained his composure.

"See that you do. And one other thing, Draco. The Ministry is very curious to find out what made the Dark Lord so powerful. The first thing that they will explore would be his magical artifacts. I know for a fact that your father owns most of these and hides them in a hidden room in this house. I also know that the Ministry is offering a large sum of money for anyone with certain Dark objects. Perhaps you might be willing to aid them?"

Without waiting for a response, Snape nodded once, his duty done. He exited out the door he came in. I was used to his sudden appearances and even more sudden disappearances, but this one left me more confused than when he had entered. I figured that the best thing to do would be to sleep on it, find the shop in the morning, and see what needed to be done. I knew a great opportunity was on my hands in running a shop, but I had no head for business. There was one person who could help me, but, either my damned stubbornness, or my thoughts that she would be too busy, kept me from sending an owl to Hermione.

I gave no thought to Snape's last words. Giving away my father's things seemed like too much right now. My loyalties were with no one person, only to what I now believed was right. However, I didn't want to lose one of the last links I had with my father. If I gave away his things, it would be like admitting that what he did his whole life was evil. Subsequently, making me evil. And that was something that I was not ready to face.

So I continued on with that day with a little more hope for the future. That night, I finally did make it up the three flights of stairs to my room, the familiarity of it all calming me.


	5. Fresh Start

((Disclaimer: I'm too poor to own HP and defiantly too poor to pay for the legal costs should I say that I own HP. So I will refrain from doing so.))

Chapter 4

Fresh Start

Once in Diagon Alley, I tried to maintain my front of haughty indifference, as was my reputation. Other than those giving me wary side glances, I was given the respect most would give a wealthy merchant. Which I was, of course. I didn't want them to see how incredibly nervous I was. How absurdly insecure I felt about owning a shop.

The Hogwarts letters had just been delivered, as the streets were bustling with children. Some were hand in hand with anxious, Muggle parents. Some of the older students were on their own, muttering about having to buy new robes. I envied them, in a way. They were still in their innocence. The biggest worries on their minds were vain, petty excuses for problems. At one point in my life, I would have looked down on them, thinking them immature and superficial, but now – now I wished for those same small problems. Not to have to worry about my father, not to have to worry about money – that would be the heaven that I imagined.

The shop I was to own was near Knockturn Alley. The building was unkempt, the door almost falling off its hinges. If I wasn't already so depressed, I would have broken into tears. This was not the shop that I imagined, not the place where I could start my new life. This place needed a lot of attention.

So I set to work, using various spells in my repertoire to clean, fix, and restore. The heat and humidity of threatening rain caused beads of sweat to break out on my forehead. When I finished, though, the outside looked inviting and the sign had changed to "Draco Malfoy – Basic Alchemist" in gold lettering.

The inside boasted a drastic change as well. Instead of the dingy, dirty pieces of wood that lined the shop, there hung exquisite mahogany shelves that crossed the wall. I did nothing but sleep, eat and work on that shop for days at a time. It was as if it had become a sort of addiction with me. Something that I could control, that I could change. Even with my life seeming to spiral out of control, the shop was a problem that I knew would be fixed.

Later that week, the things that Snape promised finally arrived. I set each of the potions needed for Hogwarts nearest my desk in the back. Other potions lined those new shelves. Snape had been generous in his potions and store of ingredients. Beside my desk was an arched wooden door leading to a storage area in the back. I kept my own ingredients in there, as well as three cauldrons. Various books, again donated by the Potions master at Hogwarts, were stacked against one wall, waiting to be read and researched. At the end of the week, I was almost ready to open the store.

The day before my "grand opening," I stayed for longer than usual. It was almost dark by the time that I got up to magically and physically lock the door to my shop. That completed, I turned around to leave. Only there was someone in the way. A tall someone with curly brown hair and intense, but friendly eyes.

"Hermione," I breathed, completely caught off guard. She smiled at me, before looking to the shop behind me.

"I heard that you owned the new Alchemy shop. I just wanted to see how you were adjusting," she explained. I took a small step back, finally noticing her in the failing sunlight. She was wearing the robes typical of the Ministry, and she looked so sophisticated in them. I blinked slowly before nodding.

"I open tomorrow," I stated simply. I started to brush past her. "And, as such, I am extremely busy."

She caught my arm as I was walking away.

"Draco." The sound of my name stopped me and I turned to face her.

"Yes, Hermione, what is it?" She released me and looked away.

"I'll be there tomorrow," she promised. "Just to make sure that people know about your shop, of course. Many of the Muggle parents were worried that they wouldn't be able to afford suitable ingredients for their children. Now that your shop is opening, well. . . they might be able to now." I felt my heart soar. There was no better action that she could ever do for me. I was so nervous about whether anyone would show up…or even if anyone would care. Now I knew that at least one person did. I kept my face expressionless, though. There was no need to become overemotional.

Instead of thanking her, I brought my hand to her jaw and traced it down to her chin.

"Don't let me down," I muttered and set off at a quicker pace. I knew, from instinct, that she was still standing there in the sunset, wondering.

A/N: I know. . A little mushy. But I kind of had to speed things along, lest I lose what few interest I have!


	6. Grandest Longings

A/N: Ok, I know that people read this. It's too good NOT to read. Heehee, so please review for me? Y'all make me insecure! Thanks to the two that have already!

((The first one to guess what goes here gets the computer equivalent to a cookie. And not the internet kind, either!))

Chapter 5

Grandest Longings

The grand opening wasn't as flashy as most others of its kind. Nor did I offer any special treatment to the "first one hundred people in the store." I simply waited for my first customer patiently. I sat behind my desk in the back, book in hand. A little bell over the door rang whenever anyone would enter the store so I would be ready. It was almost mid-day before I heard that damned bell.

Surprised and a little apprehensive, I stood up to greet the visitor to my shop. A welcome died on my lips as quickly as it had arrived. Hermione was standing in the doorway, looking around. But, instead of the look of disdain I would expect from her, all I saw was wonderment. Her shoes clicked lightly on the new wooden floor and the lights, enchanted to be different colors, faded into one another. I gave her a light smile to hide my feeling of . . . whatever it was.

"Draco, this is better than I imagined." I turned hard, defensive. Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps it was now habit.

"So you imagined it would be a rundown old shack, run by a rundown little boy?" I spat, my smile freezing as I sat back down hard. Her eyes narrowed. She didn't turn in fear at my tantrums any longer.

"No, Draco. I didn't mean it like that. And you know it." There was an edge to her voice that I couldn't help but back away from. I know now that she was every bit as surprised at my words as I had expected her to be. The difference was, she knew how to hide her emotions as well as I could.

I looked down, nodding.

"Yes, I know. It's just that," I laughed humorlessly, "you're my first customer that I've had all day." A genuine grin touched her lips and she stepped closer to the desk that I had retreated behind.

"Give it time, Draco. Everything needs time." Her words were soft now, as she realized that I was opening up – even just a little. I bit my lip, thinking. Her advice didn't seem to be applying to just my shop. There was something that I couldn't place in her tone, some sort of hidden meaning there. I shook my head. Women . . .

"Time, Hermione, is all that I have now," I replied after a tense moment. She nodded, hearing something in my answer that I didn't know I had added. But, in hindsight, I realize that I had put something there. A little inflection of my voice that may have made the whole difference. The woman in front of me stood up straight, turned on her heel and walked out of the door. In her wake, I felt only a longing that I could not explain. A hole in what I thought could be complete again.


	7. Pride Lost

((Need I say it?))

Chapter 6

Pride Lost

I left my Grand Opening day with no sales. Aside from Hermione's entrance, the bell above my door remained silent. Perhaps it was my location, so close to Knockturn Alley. Most likely, it was the name on the sign above my door. Needless to say, I returned home slightly more than disappointed.

There was food on the table when I arrived, just something simple. Baked ham and potatoes. I had given up on the fancy foods that my parents were so fond of. There was no sense in impressing anyone with culinary arts anymore. I wasn't expecting to hold any parties soon.

I was in the middle of my meager meal when I heard a rap on the door. Thinking it had to be Snape or someone of that nature, I didn't even bother getting up this time. I looked up only when a house elf approached, belly almost to the floor.

"M . . . Master Malfoy. . . There is someone here to see you," the little wretch stuttered. Slamming down my fork, I turned on the poor creature.

"Tell them to leave me alone, I am in no mood for company tonight," I hissed venomously. The house-elf they called Kamda trembled violently and turned pale. It didn't matter to me. Nothing did, really. I was just so angry at the unfairness of it all, the horrible dreams that haunted me even when I was awake. The visions that floated through my head. Maybe my Father was right, maybe I was a failure. It seemed nothing could save me from my fears and insecurities. But for the second time that day, I was surprised into silence.

"You should learn to control your temper, Draco. Kamda did nothing but deliver a message," a soft voice admonished from the dining room entrance. Startled, I looked up to the speaker. Hermione, of course. Who else would have the courage to enter the home of the dreaded "Malfoy spawn?" I gave her my best smirk.

"Well its message was delivered and you heard my reply." Of course I wanted her to stay, but I was still working on the old habits problem. Damn my pride, but it was all I had left to depend on.

Thankfully, Hermione could see right through me.

"Since when did I ever do what you said, Draco?" she scoffed. Mentally, I laughed. I couldn't think of one single instance when she did what I wanted her to do. Unless, of course, she was going to do it anyway. Outwardly, though, there was no change. I kept my smirk.

"You had better make this the first time then, Hermione." I was done playing with her. I didn't want her to leave, but it was better than admitting I needed the presence of a friend. More specifically, her presence.

She ignored me like I knew, or hoped, she would and took a seat near mine. Surprised, I watched her for a moment, her movements graceful and quite feminine. Catching my eye, she smiled and I looked down, intent upon my meal.

And we stayed that way, silent and thoughtful, until there was nothing left on my plate. I realized too late that I had offered her nothing, but, before I could open my mouth to correct this folly, I remembered that I didn't want her there.

"Why are you here, Hermione?" I asked as an unnamed house elf took my plate and cup.

"To check up on you, I suppose," she answered quietly, looking down. I knew that look well. She was lying. It seemed as if even she didn't even know why she was seated at my dining room table.

"I'm fine. You have no need to worry about me." That was also a lie, but I hid mine better than she had. She looked confused for a moment, her intelligent eyes flickering to the side once before meeting mine again. She rose, her confidence waning.

"Then I suppose. . . er. . . I will go then." She muttered something I couldn't hear and nervously ran her fingers through her hair. I could only catch the words "stupid" and "shouldn't have thought" before she was walking away. I faltered in my own thoughts. Oh God, I don't even remember what I was thinking. So many unnamed emotions ran through my head, so many unfinished thoughts fought to the front. I stood up as well, my legs betraying my head and following my heart.

"Hermione. Wait. . ." I called out. She stopped near the archway where I had first laid eyes upon her at my house and looked down, never turning around.

"I'm tired of waiting, Draco. I'm tired of waiting for you to figure out that I am not your enemy. That I am trying to help you. You are so quick to judge what you don't want to believe."

That stopped me in my tracks. She mirrored my own thoughts. My pride had forced me to think of her as an enemy. She looked so regal just then. Even with her hair trailing down her back in wild curls. Even with her sophisticated dress, hemmed to perfection. Something about the way she stood commanded attention. She was a long ways away from the invisible teenager that I once hated. I resumed my paces, catching up to her still form within a few strides.

"You're right." Two words. It took me a lifetime to say them, but it caught her attention. She looked up, her eyes locking with mine. Embarrassed to the point of shame, I broke the gaze and looked to the door. "Did you drive?"

She shook her head.

"No. I Apperated. I would have gotten closer to the grounds, but you seem to have some sort of shield around your house." I smiled.

"Yes. Father, in one of his bouts of paranoia, put it up." Looking back up, I touched her arm lightly. "If you don't want to walk, you can leave from here. The spell to lift the shield is easy, though only a Malfoy can do it." I was proud of myself at those words. There was nothing by information in them. They did not betray my feelings, nor did they show my overwhelming pride. She seemed to flinch a little at my touch, but only because it looked as if she wasn't expecting it. I muttered a spell under my breath, closing my eyes. "It's done."

"Thank you."

There we stood for countless moments, a horrid debate running through my mind. She was in front of me, barely a foot from my face. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence. I could only imagine the thoughts raging there. Her perfectly formed lips trembled a little, but I forced my gaze back to her eyes. She looked down, and I made my choice. I leaned in a little, my heart throbbing painfully. I met only air and I had to take a step forward to catch myself. My foot landed right where she had been before she Disapperated…half a second before our lips would have met.

A/N: Sorry guys! I had to. Review for my please?


	8. Weakness of Strength

A/N: Oh it makes me happy…Reviewers at last! Keep 'em coming!

((I think that I have run out of stupid things to put here))

Chapter 7

Weakness of Strength

I didn't sleep that next night. Instead, I paced my room, the sound of my muted footsteps comforting. The rhythmic step…step…step made my thoughts fall into an orderly pattern.

No matter the order, however, they all reached the same point. I was weak. This woman with her rare and enchanting smile and inquisitive eyes had made me weak.

And yet that same thought also led me down a different direction. I didn't want her to see my weakness. There I paced, torn between my need to be strong no matter the cost, and my sudden need to be strong for someone else – this someone else who intrigued me. Fascinated me. Who carried more pain and personal torment than she let on. Perhaps it was time to repay the favor I owed her. I was tried of being prideful, tired of losing myself among habit

When dawn broke the sky, streaking it with pink and blue, I rushed downstairs. I changed as I walked, knowing I looked a mess. But I just needed to see her. To comfort her as she had done with me. I wanted her to know that I trusted her. That every word I said to her was wrong. I felt this instinctive need to be near her.

A few hours and a few pulled strings later, I had her address. She lived in a heavily Muggle – concentrated area, so I would have to be careful Appareating there. Find a nice alley. Wait half an hour…walk out.

Hermione lived in a beautiful neighborhood, the lawns perfectly cut and the hedges trimmed just right. A good place for a perfectionist to live. I found her house easily enough. I'm not sure if it was the name on the mailbox…or the company car with all the teeth on it that gave it away.

As I stepped onto the driveway, it occurred to me that I still had no idea what I was going to tell her. "I'm sorry," seemed too trite and meaningless a phrase. Especially coming from me. What if she didn't believe that I had changed? That I was a different person than even the one she had caught a glimpse of last night? I reached her door and knocked twice. Might as well just plunge right in. A few heart stopping moments of silence came before the door was gingerly opened partway.

"Hello Hermione," I said softly, my former bravery melting away.

"Draco? What are you…?" She stopped and the door opened fully. Her hair was tamed back in a messy bun, stray curls framing her face. She was wearing loose pants that ended right above her ankles and a long t-shirt sporting some environmental organization's name. In that moment, she had never been more beautiful.

"I didn't mean to wake you," I looked down, thinking of what I could possibly say. "There was just…something I forgot."

She raised a brow at that, following my gaze to the porch and then I met her eyes when I looked back at her.

"And what could that possibly have been?" I noted the sarcasm in her voice. She must not be much of a "morning person." This fact just made her all the more wonderful to me.

I had wanted to tell her everything then, but the words wouldn't come out. My pride had reared up again, but I wasn't going to let it stop me from what I knew I needed to tell her. So I settled for _showing_ her what I felt.

As I had done the night before, I leaned in, but this time, I took her hand in mine, just to feel her warmth and to make sure that she wouldn't leave me this time.

She didn't pull away when my lips pressed against hers. She almost seemed to fall, and I had to wrap my other hand around her waist. There was no razzle dazzle of sparks at our touch, no big sign proclaiming heavenly messages. There was only the feeling that this was…right.

Suddenly aware of where I was again, I pulled back. Sometime in all of that, I had closed my eyes and, opening them again, I realized how close I was to her. I could see the light in her newly opened eyes, the astonishment. She couldn't seem to keep my gaze for long, as she looked away for a brief moment. Real fear that I may have just lost her overcame me and I stepped away, releasing her.

"Draco, I…"

"Yes, well…" I cut her off, turning away and walking off the porch. There was silence as I descended the steps and then I felt a soft touch on my arm. I turned to the source and saw her smile briefly before she closed her eyes and kissed me again.

"I'm sorry," I muttered breathlessly just as she whispered the same thing. I gave a small laugh before I shut my own eyes and closed the gap between our lips again.


	9. Surprises

A/N: I am soooo sorry that this is coming out so late. I was in a car wreck and so the meds I was taking…well…let's just say that they didn't do much for my writing…

Chapter 8

The Chance I Took

I lived in ecstasy that morning, reliving that early morning trip. The only thing that kept me grounded was the thought that I had to go back to work the day. To face my failure fully.

Around noon, I was in my shop once again. I propped the door open, hoping that it would encourage people to enter. But, when early afternoon came, no one had stepped foot inside. I had seen plenty of people walk by, peeking their heads in, almost debating before moving on. I only thought I imagined their looks of fear when they saw me. I walked outside, locking it behind me and thought of heading out for a belated lunch break. It seemed that many had the same thoughts that I did. The streets were almost deserted and the most of the shops had closed down temporarily. I still did not regret my decision, but I would still be hard pressed to find someplace to dine alone.

Luck, however, seemed to want her way with me. A good way, perhaps. I found a small café where the patrons inside weren't too rowdy nor abundant. A small corner of the café offered me a nice retreat, away from the scarce customers. A short witch waited on me, though she didn't seem inclined to speak with me more than she had to. A small sandwich and a cup of "strong" coffee later, I was out of that place. And into someone standing near the door. We fell in a heap on the ground, dirt staining my new robes. Shaking my head as I sat up, my mouth opened to tell the clumsy person just what I thought of them. Irony, it seems, loves us all. My attacker was the first to speak.

"I am so sor…"

Her voice was soft, the sound sending a pleasant rain of serenity through my mind. Hermione's eyes met mine and I thought I detected a faint flush in her cheeks. But that might have just been the attention that we were receiving from the curious shoppers. The latter was the reason for my own blush.

"Hermione? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?" I managed to whisper before I remembered just who I was. Lazily, I stood up fully, offering my hand to hers. She took it and rose as well, though neither of us let go.

"I'm fine. And I was watching a pair of Muggle parents across the street. They looked like they needed help."

Both of us glanced over, but the only couple we saw wore dark green robes and gripped their wands loosely in their hands. I laughed softly as she did the same, our voices causing the people gathered to find something else to gawk at.

"I suppose they found help…"

"Or…" she stopped, looking up to me. "Here I am, thinking the worst of everything. I really do need a break from working…"

I didn't know if that last comment was meant for me, but I chose to use it to my advantage.

"Then come back to my shop with me," I offered, surprising even myself. "You won't have to worry about Muggles coming in for help there." Or anyone else, I added silently. She gave me a smile, shaking her head in what looked like amusement. Or at least, I was simply hoping it wasn't disappointment I saw there. I know now what I never would admit before. And I know that the one thing that I could never be able to stand would be her disappointment.

Fear struck my body when we neared my shop. There was a crowd of people around the doors and windows, trying to peer in. I stopped walking, but Hermione just continued on, not a care in the world. As she walked closer to them, they ceased their chatter and watched her, awestruck.

"People, people. There is no need to start a riot here. The owner has just arrived and will be able to help you with whatever potion or ingredient that you desire," she announced. A happy murmur ran through the crowd like a wave. It was much like the happiness that surged through me. Though my happiness was tainted with confusion. I had no time to ask Hermione what she had done that night, for I was too busy running around helping everyone. Most of them were concerned Muggle parents, but I wasn't going to be picky. They had money, and they didn't seem to be afraid of me. It was perfect.

Night came all too soon and, due to my lack of supplies, I had to close up early. Hermione had stayed the whole time, helping when I got too busy and keeping all those waiting from leaving. She was busy counting all of the money I made when I returned from locking the door.

"Well? How did I do?"

She laughed and held up a piece of parchment where she had figured up the total. I took a step back, almost tearing the parchment from her hands. That was the money that I made. _I _made it! I wanted to jump up and down, cry and kiss Hermione all at the same time. But, being Draco Malfoy, I regained my composure and just smiled.

"That's minus your overhead cost for this month as well. With just the sales from today, you made enough to keep this place going for another eight weeks!" she exclaimed, tangling her fingers in her hair.

"I assume I have you to thank for this?"

She shrugged modestly and stood up, straightening the papers on my desk. I was near her in a heartbeat, placing my hand over hers.

"Draco…" she whispered, but I cut her off with a soft kiss.

When she left for home that night, I realized that she never did explain how she got all those people to come.

A/N again: Hope it was worth the wait!


	10. Making the House a Home

**Chapter Nine**

**Making the House a Home**

The success of my shop was absolutely phenomenal. By the end of the summer, I had almost a third of the fortune it took my parents a lifetime to acquire. There was more than the gold though. Every day, Hermione would show up and stay until I closed. Depending on when she could leave, she would stay a few hours or all day. The latter is what I lived for. She would come in on her days off, dressed in dark green work robes, and sell what she could to the customers while I tried to keep up with the demand. Once September rolled around, however, everything slowed down. There were no longer hordes of children and their parents around, only adult wizards looking to replenish their stores of ingredients and potions. I could finally relax.

Once the heat of the summer had fled, Hermione stayed with me more often as she was no longer burdened with the orientation of Muggle parents and half Muggle children. Often, we would just sit in my shop, talking of business and her job.

I could bore you, my daughter, with the details of those next months. It seemed so surreal, not going to Hogwarts, but I didn't lament that fact. There were happier thoughts on my mind during that time. The summer hit again and, sadly, Hermione was taken away from me for much of the day.

It was one of those days, though, in the middle of summer, when I could no longer stand being away from her for so long. We were closing up, she had arrived only an hour before, and I had just sold my last bit of vampire blood to a rather…shady…character. But he had money and I wasn't picky.

I came up behind her as she was locking the door to the back room and wrapped my arms around her waist, taking in the scent of her hair. She laughed a little and leaned back against me a little. I took her weight easily.

"Hermione, you come here every day to see me and yet you have not been to my house since last year."

"Mmm hmmm…" she said, allowing me to go on. I wasn't nervous about what her reaction would be. She was the one who had pulled me out of my hole, and the one that I knew I had to be with. She gave me strength, but if she did not want me, then I truly was nothing. It was a chance that I had to take.

"Why go home tonight? Stay with me…" I said, trying to keep any trace of pleading from my voice. She didn't say anything for a moment. I could only assume that she was considering it. When she did speak, however, her voice was strong, as if she had been thinking the same thing for a while.

"As long as I get to see your horses that you tell me about…"

I smiled, perhaps I was even a little relieved.

"Of course," I promised. "We can even go riding in the morning. We both need a day off..."

The old Hermione would have blanched at the thought of missing work, but this new Hermione, the one that I was falling in…well, falling for, simply laughed again.

"They won't miss me…" she lied. I hugged her tighter and turned her around so that she faced me. Leaning in close, her lips inches from mine, I reached around behind her and took the key that was in the lock and backed away from her. She sighed, though she was almost getting used to me doing that to her by now. I gave her my best smile and took a step away from her. I had her for that night, and, at that moment, it seemed like forever.

I had been expecting her to come that night, so the house elves had prepared a wonderful dinner for us. I don't remember what it was…all I could focus on was the way that she seemed to make me laugh that night. My house had suddenly become a home, just with the addition of her presence. I lit a magical fire that gave no heat, as we didn't need it in the summer, and we sat on my couch, just talking. Soon, though, the conversation turned to that eventful night over a year ago.

"Why did you do it, Hermione?" I suddenly asked. She lay her head in my lap and I absently twirled my fingers through her hair as she thought about how to answer.

"Do what, Draco?" she almost muttered.

"Save me. Why did you help me that night, when all I had ever been to you was…awful."

I felt her shrug her shoulders in a simple response. But I didn't want to accept that. I kept my silence until courage seemed to invade her and she spoke again.

"I suppose because, at that moment in time, you were not my enemy. That you were afraid for your family, much as I would have been in that situation. We weren't so different anymore. And, I knew, that if I were in that situation, that I would want someone to help me." She sat up then and looked over at me. There were actual tears in her eyes. "I feel so responsible, Draco. I really do. If I could have been a little stronger, deflected those spells a little faster, then you might have made it…"

She didn't finish that thought. I pulled her close to me and she buried her face in my shirt. There were no tears now, but I could sense that she had been keeping this from me for quite a long time.

"Hermione…it is stupid to blame yourself." Before I could go on, however, she interrupted me.

"But if I do not blame myself, then I have to blame Harry…" I narrowed my eyes suddenly and my arms around her loosened just a little. She must have realized how that affected me and wrapped her own arms around my neck, her eyes inches from me.

"I do not hate you for your feelings towards Harry. But I do not believe as you do. I cannot blame Harry for what he felt that he had to do." I nodded. Of course she was right. Her words did not change how I felt towards the awkward hero, but I pulled her close again, our lips touching. There were no hard feelings any longer.

We slept together that night, in the full meaning of the phrase. There were no regrets the next morning, only a sense that everything that had happened was so surreal. I would have thought it was a dream, if it had not been for the feeling of her warm body snuggled next to mine. Though a wondrous dream it would have been…


	11. Midnight Visitor

A/N: I bow before you, oh worthy readers. College is kicking my butt! OW! See!

Chapter 10

Midnight Visitor

I could go on, my daughter, to all the nights after that. To three weeks later when she officially moved in with me. Or even two months after that when she finally wore my ring around her finger. Yes, we were young, but we were not naïve. We loved each other past all of our prior differences. There was no one in the world that mattered more to me. But, the night before our wedding, I stayed in my shop late, contemplating the big step that I was making the next day. I had my feet stretched out in front of me and the ring I was to give her in the palm of my hand. _What are you doing, Draco? Are you sure this is what you want? _I thought to myself, frowning a bit. _Yes. This is what I want. She is what I want. _

A loud crash from the back startled me out of my thinking.

"Bloody hell…" I muttered, the adrenaline that coursed through my body causing me to shake a little.

I stood up quickly, silently making my way to the back door. It was a trait that Hermione always hated in me. My silent walk. But I would not let years of training go to waste. After all, she only despised it when I caught her singing her favorite Muggle tunes while she cooked or when she was trying to sneak clothes to my house elves. That last one I usually tried never to allow her to do.

I reached out for the doorknob, pulling my wand out to hold it in front of me.

"Lumos," I whispered and a small light erupted out of the tip of my wand. I flung the door open, thrusting my wand in the darkened room. The light illuminated the room, though there was no other presence inside but my own. However, the cauldron I had left simmering had been tipped over, spilling the contents of my hard work onto my newly cleaned floors. Those ingredients had been rare, not to mention expensive. Cursing, I waved my wand and the torches inside my workroom lit up. There was no trace of anyone having been there, though it would have taken someone with great strength to topple my largest cauldron.

Another wave of my wand and the contents of the cauldron, as well as the potion that had almost been completed, disappeared. It just meant that I would have to start all over again with new ingredients. The apothecary that I bought everything I needed from would be upset…he had to "pull a few strings" to get those for me. And those were strings that, from what I understood, could not be easily pulled again.

But it was not the action, nor the hassle that would follow, that worried me. I had the time and money to redo the potion a thousand times. What bothered me was the fact that someone had somehow gotten in the back room of my shop, tipped over the cauldron, and then vanished. Apperating was a possibility, but it was so quiet in my shop at the time, I would have heard the telltale "pop." Unnerved, I would have investigated further, had the sound of the bell above the door to my shop not rang. I ran to the front of the shop but, as I suspected, there was no one there. A cool breeze settled around me, the wind that had come from outside slowly becoming the same temperature as my shop. How he…or she…had gotten around me, I could not even fathom. The motives of the perpetrator were just as cloudy. I could not think of anyone who would want to do something less than murder me, so tipping over a cauldron would be childish and pointless for any of them. Sighing a little, I quit trying to figure out scenarios.

I didn't think there was really anything I could do that night. Whoever had been there didn't seem to want to hurt me…that much was certain. But I was nervous. So, before I left, I put wards around my shop that only I would be able to go through. Not even my beloved Hermione could get through. _However,_ I thought as I locked up, feeling slightly cheered as the image of Hermione floated into my mind, _we won't be home for a week. She will be with me. In America for our honeymoon._ She had chosen the destination, and the country's capitol did seem to be the place to go. We had heard of the scenery there, and it would be much less of a hassle than fighting traffic in dreaded New York City- Hermione's second choice. I secretly harbored the suspicion that I would be hauled to more museums that I would every wish to see in any amount of time. But I would get my way eventually…that I was completely certain of.

With a lighter heart, I practically skipped home. Inwardly, at least. Outwardly, I hadn't changed much.


	12. Serenity Shattered

**A/N: **I beg your forgiveness, O Worthy Readers! This one is a little more...sweet...than I normally write...but I was listening to sappy songs...whaddya gonna do? Reviews please!

**Chapter Eleven**

**Serenity Shattered**

I know your attention to the monotonous details of the small matters in your mother and my life bore you, my daughter, so I will try and skip over that. Though the wedding gave me great joy, it was no different than many others before ours and many others after. We were married in a church, to please her parents and her parents alone. Some of Hermione's friends showed, but not many. Our voices echoed loudly in the empty church, the vows twice as loud as normal. I kept my gaze on her the whole time, not wanting to turn around and see my empty pews. There was no one for me. No one who came to see me wed my beloved. My father, had he even known, would not have been there. He would never have approved…

That night, I took her into my arms and we expressed our love in the fullest way possible. The ring on her finger glinted in the candlelight and confirmed the fact that this was the right thing to do. My fears of the night before had vanished, leaving only a sense of peace inside of me that I needed. There had been this hole inside of me for as long as I could remember, and I had thought that my hate and anger would fill it. In fact, it had only made this hole deeper, cutting into my twisted heart and poisoned mind. It was Hermione who soothed me. She didn't give up on me when I was at my worst. Even through everything, she had stayed by my side. There was nothing I wouldn't do for her. Nothing. If possible, I would have given my soul to see her smile at me. In one of those moments, it was as if we hadn't been through anything. My mother was back and the lives had returned to the bodies of the fallen. There were such wonderful dreams in her eyes and smile, it was easy to see why I wore her ring. The question still plagued me, however; why did she wear mine?

As we lay there in my bed, I stroked her hair while she breathed lightly on my chest.

"Hermione?" I stared at the wall in front of me, memorizing every line and every small curve.

"Mm?"

I started to reply, to ask her what her reasons were for choosing the man who had tortured her for years. But the words wouldn't come out. I didn't want to know. It didn't matter to me, suddenly. I knew Hermione. She was not one to rashly make decisions without painstaking, and often agonizing, thought. And besides, I trusted her enough to not care.

She sat up a little, looking at me with sleepy eyes. I realized that I had been hesitating in my answer and I gave her a sheepish smile. Shrugging, I lightly traced my thumb across her cheek.

"I love you…"

She laughed a little and shook her head, resting her head on my chest again. I welcomed her warmth happily and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. She was already asleep.

I stayed up for a few hours longer, simply watching her sleep. But my eyes became too heavy for me too keep open and I temporarily succumbed to the darkness that wanted me so badly.

I awoke before she did. The house elves were scurrying around my room trying to do some last minute packing. I glared at them and they scampered off, leaving us in peace.

"You should be nicer to them, Draco. They do a lot for you…" a husky voice chastised from beside me. I blinked, looking down. Hermione was laughing at me in that silent way that she had so perfected. I smirked and curled up around her, kissing her neck gently.

"You're right. They do a lot…like burn supper. And run around aimlessly. And make me look bad…"

Hermione shook her head and moved out of my grasp, rising from the bed. I lay back, placing my hands behind my head.

"They also pack your clothes, make your bed, dust, keep house, and make food for us…things like that. They're not useless," she argued, finding a pair of jeans and pulling them on. I kept my eyes on her for a long moment before I shrugged.

"I don't want to fight with you about them. Now isn't the time for things like that…" I stood up as well and found my own pair of pants to put on. She glanced over to me and softened. Throwing on a light blue blouse, she went to our closet and brought out a shirt for me. As she slipped it over my shoulders, she took a deep breath.

"Are you nervous about the flight?" she asked me, coming in front of me to button up the shirt. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked down at her.

"Of course not. I'm looking forward to trusting a bunch of bloody Muggles and their…technology…with my life," I told her with an anxious grin. She looked down and took my hands, leaning against me. "I still don't see why we just can't Apperate."

"I just wanted this to be a time away from magic, Draco. I know we both need it…"

I squeezed her hands and nodded.

"Of course… Now, let's go. The plane will leave without us if we don't go now…"

She took a few steps back and walked out the door, probably to help the house-elves. I sighed, reaching to take my watch from the nightstand. Instead of the cold metal, however, I felt an uncommon roughness. Looking down in curiosity, I froze. A sheet of parchment lay there innocently, though I pulled my hand away as if it burned. It is just something simple, I told myself, taking calming breaths. It is nothing to be worried about. No harm comes from paper. Perhaps it is a list of Hermione's. With that chant reverberating in my head, I reached for it again. Picking it up, I unfolded it and began to read the handwriting I knew so well. There were only a few simple sentences, but I knew exactly who it was.

_Draco,_

_This disgrace has gone too far. You have betrayed me enough. The name will not be carried by a Mudblood…_

I crumpled the note in my hand and hurled it against the wall, gasping in frustration and anger. It exploded in silent flames before it hit and only the ashes rained down on the carpet. I buried my face in my hands and let out a quiet sob. Who was I to try and turn my back on my past? Especially when it came in a form such as him. I couldn't win. There was no way to beat him. He had proven who was the stronger between us many times. The scars had healed, but I was always wounded by him. His voice was enough to incite fear, and consequently, blind worship.

But I took his words as a threat against Hermione. He obviously knew about us being together and about the wedding. The thought, however, that he was in my room only served to infuriate me…and humiliate me. I couldn't even keep her safe, it seemed, if my father could simply appear anytime he wished.

Hermione came to the door and quirked a brow.

"You were the one complaining about being late, and here you are just sitting there." She frowned, seeing my expression and taking a blind guess to the reason. "Everything will be fine, Draco, you'll see. Even if something happens on the plane, we will both have our wands…"

I nodded, allowing her to think that it was the plane that was bothering me. I took my watch from where it had been sitting and looped it around my wrist.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I led her out the door and to the driveway where the limousine awaited. I would not let threatening notes from my father dampen my already shaky spirits.


	13. Delaying the Storm

A/N: HAHA! I think this is a new record. Took me a day to post this! Everyone should be proud of me and review! REVIEW I SAY!

Chapter 12

Delaying the Storm

I gripped Hermione's hand tightly as the plane lifted off. The airport had made me dizzy, the crowds were confusing and this trip was going to make me sick. I could already feel it. However, I put on a brave face for her sake and clutched my wand, out of sight, in my other hand.

"You will be alright, Draco. Just…breathe," she advised. I just looked at her. Breathe? When all that held us in the air was a great big metal tube with immobile wings? I was lucky to still be conscious.

Once we leveled out, I released my hold on her and she settled back, reaching down in her bag to retrieve some book of hers. I lay against the headrest, tilting my head to watch the clouds outside. Despite the crowds of Muggles sitting around me, it was rather soothing. The noise of the engines was at a dull, calming roar and motion of the plane was not at all how I expected it to be. It actually gave me time to think, which was rare in those days. But I wished that I didn't get the free time then. All that was on my mind was the note from my father. The three sentences reverberated in my mind, refusing to let me forget. I hated the silence then. I wanted noise, lots of confusion to keep those thoughts from surfacing anymore.

"Hermione?" I muttered, turning my eyes from the window. She finished reading the sentence she was on before looking over to me.

"You alright?" she asked, seeing my pained expression. I struggled to regain my composure.

"Yes…I'm fine. Just…bored, I suppose. Do you have those…er…" I struggled to remember the word and gave up, pointing to my ears. She smiled and me and nodded, bringing out the headphones with its eternally long wire and round box that held the thin cylinders. I knew one of those cylinders would bring my much needed relief from the heavy silence. I slipped them over my ears like she showed me and held out the box for her to operate. These Muggles and their contraptions. She fiddled with it and then set it back in my lap. The music started to play and I raised a brow. Bach... However, it helped the silence, and that's all I needed it for. I focused on the ups and downs of the notes and pitches. The rests, the pauses that came so easily sometimes and were so abrupt in others helped push other thoughts away. The changing moods of each piece followed a certain pattern and soon I learned the pattern and predicted which note would follow in what order. I made it into a game, forcing my mind into doing something other than think about what should have been left alone.

Halfway through my fifth round of the music, it simply stopped. I narrowed my eyes a little and took the headphones off of my ears. Staring blankly at the machine in my lap, I tried to figure out why it wouldn't play anymore. No matter what buttons I pushed, it remained blank. Frustrated, I looked to Hermione to fix it. She was already staring at me, a questioning look in her eyes. She gently reached over to take the damned machine and flipped it over, revealing a small panel I hadn't noticed before. Opening it, she took two small cylinders from it. Batteries. Ah yes…I could remember those…

"What's wrong, Draco? And don't tell me it's just the plane…" she said as she dug in her bag for new ones.

"What do you mean? I'm fine…" I answered her, looking out the window. I don't know why I didn't tell her about the note before. I didn't want to scare her, I suppose, though that was irrational. Hermione had been afraid for much of her life and most of that fear didn't come from me and my problems. I just wanted to protect her from fear and make her relaxed and happy for a while. For the rest of her life. But it didn't seem to be working out that way.

"Don't lie to me, Draco Malfoy. You never listen to Bach ten times in a row when you're feeling 'fine.'" _Damn_, I thought, _she's outwitted me yet again._ I forced out a laugh and gave her the best answer I could think of.

"I'll tell you later…"

She grumbled a response and handed me the contraption back, replacing the cylinder inside with Beethoven. Wonderful…

It took me until we landed to learn his pattern as well. And by then, I was too excited about getting off the plane and starting our honeymoon to worry.


	14. Rain Clouds

A/N: Just cuz I love all my readers and it fits with the season, here's a longer chapter for y'all. Happy Holidays from me!

**Chapter 13**

Rain Clouds

I was finally able to sleep when we arrived. The time difference threw me off, sending me into that sleepy realm they call "jet lag." I was glad that we had a day to adjust before our first scheduled museum. Or rather, I was relieved. Glad would not be the word I would have used for going to a museum.

Hermione was entranced by the different exhibits, telling me about the American government system and the various differences in them. I heard her without listening, as I was more interested in the large crowd following us as if Hermione was the guide. She blushed a beautiful shade of scarlet when I discreetly pointed this fact out.

On the third day of our trip, I convinced her to bypass the museums and just take a walk. The air was crisp, something left over from the spring. The tourists walking around weren't too bothersome, and the clouds had left for the day. All in all, it was a perfect day. When we stood on a bridge, overlooking the water, I wrapped my arms around her waist and planted a kiss on her neck. She had been strangely silent all day, not even muttering about this monument or that memorial. I took her hands in mine and she turned around, leaning against the railing of the bridge.

"What is it, love?" I asked her softly, meeting her strong gaze. She didn't answer for a moment, seeming to contemplate her words carefully.

"I don't know. I just see all of this and I think how much…how we're so lucky to even be alive. How everything is so fragile…do you understand?"

I could only nod. Her words brought that fateful night back to me and I loosened my grip on her hands. I stared past her at the glittering water and it turned into rain. In my mind, the sky darkened and lightening flashed overhead. I was in my element, the sounds of the Death Eaters filling my ears and giving me courage. I could see the others around me, my allies, facing against the older, more experienced men. The Aurors I had come to know so well ran past me, heading deeper into the woods. I followed them, not wanting to miss out on anything. A hand reached out to me and pulled me into a tree, knocking the breath from my lungs. Cruel eyes, so familiar in their hatred met my own. My father, behind the Death Eater's mask, sneered. I was vaguely aware of Hermione tugging on my sleeves before I shook the memory away.

"Hm?" I asked, guessing that she had said something while I wasn't paying attention.

"I asked if you were alright."

"Oh…I'm fine…" I answered her, perhaps a little too harshly. She sighed, her frustration with me now evident.

"No, Draco, you're not. Tell me where you were just then. And what had you so distracted on the plane…"

I opened my mouth, but shut it quickly, losing my courage. She didn't understand me. She would side with Potter, leaving me to feel like a silly little boy, lost in his own anger and vengeance. I stepped away from her, breaking her hold on my sleeve, to lean down over the other side of the bridge. Darkness was approaching and it brought storm clouds with it.

Moments later, I felt a hand around my waist and a head on my shoulder. I turned to her, enveloping her in my arms, trembling slightly. I regretted not killing my father that day. I regretted it now more than ever. For a while, I had been happy. I was slowly healing the wounds of my childhood, with the help of my one true love. And then, with only three short sentences, my world threatened to shatter. I would do everything in my power to protect this woman that I held, but I could not control her life. She would be out on her own, without me, during the days and for weekends, should the Ministry need her. She needed to be aware of the danger trailing her, the danger that I had brought upon her. I blamed myself entirely for this predicament, but it seemed there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't live without her, so leaving wasn't an option. She would be in more danger without me anyway. So, I settled on simply telling her.

"There is something I need to tell you…" I started and then proceeded to explain about the note from my father and its implications. She didn't say anything for a moment, taking my hand in hers and walking away from the bridge. On the way back to the hotel, I told her about the note that I found, who it was from, and what it said. I kept my eyes to the ground, watching the stones under my feet. She said nothing while I talked, and the silence was comforting. I didn't think that I would be able to tell her, had she spoken.

When I finished, the silence stretched in front of us, no longer comforting, but suddenly uncomfortable.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she finally asked when I opened the door to the hotel for her. I shrugged, running my hand through the top of my hair. It fell out of place, streaming in my eyes.

"I was afraid…" I confessed, ashamed. She stopped walking and turned to me.

"It's not as if he can just show up. He's wanted in both our world and the Muggle world." We reached the elevator and it opened for us as soon as she hit the button. Stepping inside, I reached down to embrace her.

"I know...I just worry…"

As the elevator went up to the top floor, the glass back revealed the sky outside. The storm clouds came overhead, bringing their torrent of wind and water. It pounded against the glass as we reached out floor and stepped away from it. The roar of the rain followed us all the way to our room and into the bedroom. There we were frozen in shock. Everything was in shambles. The sheets were slashed and all of our clothes were spread around, either completely burned or torn beyond recogonition. I clenched my fists at my sides and picked up a fallen lamp. With a cry of rage, I hurled it against the far wall, shattering it completely. As the broken pieces flew, so did my patience with my father's little game. He was humiliating me and I had taken it up until then. I was finished playing along.

"Draco…" Hermione's sweet voice interrupted my vengeful thoughts. I whirled on her, the anger apparent in my eyes and on my face.

"You don't get it, Hermione. You don't! You see this! This was him. My father, Hermione! He's ruining my life now, much as your precious Potter did for seven years…and more!" I brushed past her, heading out the door again. Not bothering with the elevator, I practically flew down the stairs and out the door of the hotel. I was instantly soaked by the falling rainwater, but I could hardly feel it. There was a rage inside of me that could only compare to the one I felt when I saw Potter standing over my mother's dead body.

I ignored the stares I received as I pushed through the dry crowds of people holding umbrellas. They meant nothing to me. I just wanted to get away from the source of my shame.

After an hour of just walking, the rain had calmed down to a faint drizzle and my anger had slowly trickled away. Now…I was simply lost. And in what looked like the bad part of town. Night had fallen completely and the only light came from either covered bonfires or the occasional lighter flash. I turned around, attempting to retrace my steps. I tried not to show my fear, for I didn't have my wand with me and I legally could not Apperate in front of so many Muggles. So, I was stuck with walking. Five minutes into my walk back, I was grabbed roughly and slammed me against the wall. I closed my eyes in pain and shock.

"What we got here, boys? A pretty little man, all dressed up and nowhere to go. Why you all wet, huh? Didja forget your umbrella this mornin'?" I heard the guttural laughter of three men and I forced my eyes open. They were all watching me with greedy smiles on their faces. They were all dressed in loose clothing, chains falling from their jeans and cigarettes dangling from their lips. My attacker had my arms pinned above me and I could feel the bricks of the building I was pressed on dig into my wrists.

"What do you want?" I asked them, gritting my teeth against the pounding in my temples. My attacker raised a bushy eyebrow and laughed.

"Oh…a little English snob. Well, Sir…why don't you share your wealth there, huh? Or do we have to force it out of you? After all…" He sneered at me and he was so close, I almost gagged on his foul breath. "Us Americans did beat your asses like a thousand years ago…"

If I hadn't been in the situation, the whole thing would have seemed very funny. But I suppressed a laugh and struggled against his hold on me. In reward, he turned me around and bent my arms behind me, his laughing never stopping once.

"C'mon, Tommy…let's beat him now and get it over with. It's cold out here, damnit!" the boy to my right complained. My attacker put his hand to my cheek and pushed my harder into the wall.

"Alright, alright…just make sure you get the money too…" He let me go, and for a moment, I actually believed that they were going to let me go. Then the one who spoke to Tommy lunged at me, throwing a punch into my stomach. I grunted and doubled over, falling to the ground as I tried to catch my breath. Once down, I was free game. Their boots kicked at me and I curled up in a protective ball. As if sensing my pain, the rain picked up again and the drops fell around me. They laughed amongst themselves and paused in their beating. I clenched my bloody hands and attempted to stand up. The one named Tommy gripped my shoulders tightly and threw me against the wall again. He started to kick at me again, but a figure appeared in the shadows of the far alley.

"Hey…get that one, guys!" he ordered, but they didn't take two steps before a green light flashed and they were on the ground, dead. Tommy watched this with wide eyes and shook his head, running away, leaving the bodies of his dead friends behind. I struggled to stand again, feeling the completeness of my humiliation. Three Muggles…and I failed. I spat out the blood from my mouth and glanced to my rescuer. But he had disappeared already. I staggered out of the alley and leaned back against a wall before a man hurried to me.

"Hey man…you alright? Oh God, come with me…"

Only half aware of my surroundings, I blindly followed him to his apartment. It was warm in there and I was grateful for the fire inside.

"Come on…sit here. I'll go get you some...um...medicine. It should make you feel better in no time." He bustled off somewhere, and I sat down on the couch, not caring at the moment that my wet clothes were soaking through the fabric I was sitting on.

He returned with a small mug of steaming liquid and I took it from his gratefully, taking a sip. Surprised to discover what it was, I glanced at him. He looked a little nervous as he gathered up clothes from the floor to take them to a back room.

"Did you make this yourself?" I asked him and he nodded a little, coming back and shutting the door to that room behind him.

"It's good…I haven't met many who can make Septasepsum without somehow burning the clovers…" He froze, looking me over.

"Are you…?"

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I graduated from Hogwarts two years ago." He instantly relaxed and sat down beside me on the couch.

"I'm Alex Harper. I went to the school here for a while…But I couldn't pass so they kicked me out and broke my wand. Now, I just make potions…the only thing I'm good at."

I nodded and finished the rest of the healing potion, feeling much better.

"Well, Alex…can you get me back to my hotel? My wife is probably worried sick about me…" He smiled and nodded as well.

"Sure! I'll call you a taxi. Are you sure that you're alright? The Muggles around here are horrible. Especially to a wizard without a wand…" He gave me a questioning look and I shrugged.

"Left it back at the hotel…" I explained and he nodded, standing up to use the phone. When he returned, I was pacing the living room, planning on what I was going to tell Hermione when I returned to the hotel. Judging by the clock on the wall, I had been gone for over and hour and a half. And I was wet, bloody and generally ragged looking. This would not end well…I told myself.


	15. Vulnerable

A/N: The stoning may now start…I admire you for waiting so long, my faithful readers. Be well! And…I WILL HAVE THIS FINISHED BY JULY 16th! Just so I don't seem like a fool if something in that book contradicts what I've written here.

Chapter 14

Vulnerable

The taxi I took smelled of old fish and burning socks. I sank back in the seat, muttering to the driver where I wanted to go. He merely grunted in response. I should have known better than to expect more.

The drive took longer than I thought it would. I had wandered farther than I originally estimated. As we passed, the darkened streets silently mocked me, taunting me for earlier failures. I felt weak, as if all my muscles had left me and I could hardly breathe. All I wanted to do was creep into a bed and forget the whole world. Except…Hermione. Her face flashed in my mind just as the driver stopped the cab. With the sound of her voice echoing in my mind, I handed the man all the money I had left in my wallet. I had no patience to try and figure out how much was owed…I had enough problems figuring out pounds, and I didn't want to try and learn dollars. The driver offered me a bright grin and said something to me in some gibberish language I could only guess to be Spanish. I stood in front of the doors to the hotel for a long moment before I actually walked inside. The rains had settled a little, coming down in a small drizzle, but I was still dripping water on the marble floors.

Ignoring the dirty looks I received by several members of the management, I walked in the elevator and was grateful that it was so empty. Most people were either out for the night, or asleep at that hour. So I had time to run my fingers through my hair to get the excess water out and glance down to sigh at my ripped and bloody clothes. There was still a sharp pain in my mouth, stomach and chest, no matter how I tried to ignore it. My limp was in no way gone, but it was slightly less noticeable. Yet I knew none of that would matter to Hermione. She would see right through the way I still held myself high and see right through my forced grin. However, I knew I had to try.

Placing my bruised hand on the door handle, I turned it and pushed open the door. The first thing I saw was Hermione, curled up in the chair, blanket covering her. Shutting the door as quietly as I could, I glanced into the bedroom. It was completely clean. Her work, I assumed. She still didn't move from her beautiful rest. She wasn't peaceful, though…I could tell that she had unwillingly fallen asleep. She moaned softly in her sleep and her eyes flew open. I was there in a moment, kneeling down in front of her.

"Draco? What…what happened to you?" she asked, the sight of my bloody and torn clothing enough to rip her out of any sleepiness she might have had. I shook my head and stood up.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have left you…"

She nodded and gave me a dark glance.

"No…you shouldn't have…"

I followed her into the bathroom where, after a wave of her wand, the water of the bathtub turned on.

"Hermione…" I started to protest as she stripped off my bloody clothes and set them on the floor.

"Shut up…"

Once I was settled in the water, she brought a cloth to the cuts on my face and chest. I lay back against the edge and sighed softly. Instead of my pride being stripped from me by her care, I was renewed by her loving touch.

"What happened to you?" she inquired, dipping the cloth into the water. No matter how much blood was on it, the water remained clear. Her doing. I shook my head at her, not really ready to tell my story. I wasn't willing to let her see the full extent my shame yet. She let out a sigh of frustration and stood up, making sure that she threw the cloth in the water. It splashed up on me and my frustration equaled hers. I got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around my waist. Following her into the bedroom, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her around to face me.

"Have you ever felt shame, Hermione? Shame so deep that you cannot shake it, only feel it and feel that alone? That is who I am, Hermione. I am just shame. Shame, hate and anger."

Hermione froze at that, her eyes going softer as they gazed at me. She reached up to touch me, run her hands through my hair. I pulled back and faced the wall.

"Ashamed of what? Hate what? Your father?"

"Yes. Who else, besides Potter?"

She blinked at me and looked as if there had been some sort of physical blow dealt at her.

"That's not fair, Draco. You know it's not." I whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders.

"And what is fair, Hermione?" I hissed and she looked down, not meeting my gaze. That made me even angrier, "Go on and say it. You think it's better that my mother died rather than your precious Potter, don't you? She wasn't evil, Hermione." At my last words, I released her and combed my wet hair from my face.

"That's not what I was going to say, Draco…" she said softly and, surprising me, wrapped me in her arms. And in her arms I sank to the ground, the tears finally falling. With just a towel around me, I was bare both inside and out. Raw and vulnerable, she held me, comforted me. And I was strong. She was what made me strong. In that moment, it seemed I had finally come to terms with my mother's death. And her killer was one less person to hate, now that I had discovered Hermione stood by me. Would stand by me for as long as she lived. And that was something I never got to thank her for.


	16. The Joy that Kills

A/N: Does sorry even count? I mean…with my how many month absence? But…I'm working now!

Chapter 15

The Joy that Kills

Three weeks after we returned passed without incident. Except for the fact that half of my house-elf staff was somehow set free, nothing visibly had changed. But now, I caught her sometimes simply staring at me while I worked on new potions and while I was hunched over my desk with more ink on my hands than on the paper. It was in these moments when I paused in my writing and looked up, that I saw her curled up on the couch, writing letters to Muggle parents with a proper Muggle pen. But I knew she had been watching me. It was there in that little half smile she wore.

She hadn't been going to the office for a while because of sickness when I suggested that she go to a Healer. She waved my words away. We were both on the couch, watching the Muggle news on a television.

"I will be fine in another few days. Well, fine enough to return to work."

"How can you be so sure?" I countered. She laughed, though I detected a hint of nervousness in that musical sound.

"Because…I know what is wrong with me." I shot her a glance and she smiled at me…again I could see nervousness there. I tensed up, expecting some sort of exotic disease that she got from the American city. Or perhaps something worse…something incurable. Panic fluttered in my chest as I waited for her to tell me something…anything.

"Well…?" I prompted, taking her into my arms.

"I suppose that technically nothing is 'wrong' with me, it's perfectly natural and healthy. Aside from the nausea and…" she babbled on like that for a moment before I shook her gently.

"Hermione. Shut up and tell me."

I felt her take a soothing breath and she entwined her hands with mine.

"Draco…I'm pregnant." At those three words, it felt as if the world was floating away from me. There was surprise so brilliant that I simply knew I would never see again. That light, it shone from her and the baby inside. My fingers were numb with shock and I could not speak. I suppose that I frightened her with my silence because she bit her bottom lip anxiously and I could see the apprehension well up in her eyes. As she opened her mouth again to protest, to perhaps argue with me and explain to me that it wasn't just her fault, I interrupted her.

"You're…pregnant? With our child? Mine, too? Both of us?"

She narrowed her eyes and moved away from me a little.

"Yes, Draco. Ours….who else's would it be?" I shrugged and took her into my arms again, though I let go of her quickly. I didn't want to hug her too tightly and hurt the baby.

"Well, when were you planning on telling me? I mean…there's so much to do! Right?" I looked at her expectantly. She relaxed and shook her head at me.

"Yes, there is a lot to do. However…" her words were interrupted by a flutter of wings. I glanced to the half open window and blinked as a great snowy owl came landed on the mantle of the fireplace.

I could not understand why Hedwig was delivering a note…

The owl flew over to the arm of the couch and held her leg out. Hesitantly, I reached over, but she made a quick movement and bit my finger. Shrugging, I nursed my injured finger and glanced to Hermione. She smiled, despite her own confusion, and untied the note. The owl stayed, obviously awaiting a response. As Hermione unfolded the letter and began to read, her face paled. She reached over to the nightstand and scribbled out a reply on the bottom of the original note. With shaking hands, she retied the string around Hedwig's foot and the owl gave her a sympathetic hoot before flying off.

"Hermione?" I asked softly, reaching out for her. She let out a sob and practically flew into my arms. Started at the sudden reaction, I blinked a few times and sat back, simply holding her in my arms.

"He's gone, Draco. Ron…he…he…killed himself last night."


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance