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Draco wasn’t hiding, exactly. He was just in the basement of St. Mungo's. In the back potions lab. With the lights off. With his face buried in a book.
Things were going well for him, lately. His job was going well. He was acknowledged for his hard work at the last staff meeting. His pick-up Quidditch team crushed the opposing team over the weekend. And then this…thing? This courting with Hermione Granger? Absolutely spectacular. It’d been a few weeks since he’d gone off to find her in the bar the night she’d been stood up by his tosser of a co-worker, and he was amazed every time she told him she wanted to see him again. He praised whatever god was listening whenever that beautiful, brilliant woman smiled at him, her eyes shining as she invited him into her room.
They’d seen each other nearly every night this week, in fact. Draco didn’t even mind that he was getting used to waking up in her little room, with the sun blinding him, encompassed in her fresh scent.
Yeah, everything was going great for Draco. Which is why he was absolutely not hiding .
There was a pop and a thud from the other side of the door and before Draco heard someone come through he shouted “You’re not authorized to be in here!” He looked up and saw Blaise standing in the doorway.
“I do what I damn well please,” Blaise shrugged, his hand on the door knob. “Your mother is looking for you.”
Draco frowned and soured at the mention of his mother. “Good for her,” he said, looking back down at his book. He’d been reading the same page over and over, unable to focus on it.
“You can’t avoid her forever,” Blaise said. “Actually, I beg that you don’t. She complained to my mother and now I’m being guilted into finding you.”
“Then you never saw me,” Draco said. “Good luck with the search.”
“Mate,” Blaise strode into the room and pulled the stool Draco was resting his feet on out, sitting down on it to face him. “You can’t avoid her forever.”
“Don’t need to avoid her forever,” Draco said. “Just until it gets through her head that I’m not coming with her.”
“I don’t think you should avoid him forever either,” Blaise shrugged. “But more importantly,” he reached over and took Draco’s book, making him look him in the eyes. “If I told you I was letting my mum go to Azkaban to visit my old man alone, you’d hex me and call me every foul name you could think of.”
Draco sighed heavily. “It’s not like she needs to go,” he said. “It’s been at least three years since she’s bothered, and he didn’t even want to see us then.”
“He asked for both of you,” Blaise interrupted. “That’s gotta count for something.”
“It really really doesn’t,” Draco said, taking the book back. “I’m not going.”
“You’re not even going to consider it?” Blaise asked. “Not even for your mother?”
“I’d rather spend my energy trying to convince her to do anything else,” Draco said. He looked up at his frowning friend. He sighed again. “Listen. Your father is different than mine. He cares about how you’re doing. He’s glad you didn’t get locked up too after the war.” He dog-eared the book page and set it down next to the bubbling blue potion. “My father just wants what he’s always wanted, to scare my mother and I, to put us under his thumb. To make us worthless.” Trying to keep his hands busy, he pulled out his wand and tapped the cauldron twice, letting the boil go down to a simmer.
“I’ve spent five years bettering myself and my name now that he’s locked away,” Draco added quietly. “I’m not letting him undo all of that.”
“I know, Draco,” Blaise said, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But your mum is going whether you want her to or not. Are you really going to let her go alone?”
Draco sighed once more and let his head drop. So much for hiding from his mother.
—----------------------------------------------------------------
Draco looked up to his mother as they rode across from each other in the coach that carried visitors to Azkaban. She had her brave-face on, her lips in a thin line and her eyes unfocused as she idly twisted the ring on her wedding finger. “It’s not too late to turn around,” Draco tried, but this was the fourth time he’s said as much and she ignored him each time. He looked out of the window and wondered if it was always raining around Azkaban, or was it just when he would come here? Regardless, the rain matched his mood and he sat back in his seat, arms crossed.
“We should tell him how well you’re doing at the hospital,” Narcissa said quietly. “He’ll be proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
“I’m not telling him anything,” Draco said. “And I’ll ask you not to as well. He doesn’t need to know about my life. He’s not a part of it.”
“Draco,” his mother sighed.
“No mother,” Draco said firmly. “I’m here for you. To support you. You tell him whatever you want, but keep me out of it.” His mother sighed again and she was likely about to say more, but they crossed the threshold into the protected area of the prison, and Draco felt all of the warmth drain out of him as the Dementors that protected the prison soared overhead. Wordlessly, Draco reached out for his mother’s hand, and she took it, giving him a gentle squeeze.
Damn his father for putting his mother through this visit. She didn’t deserve any of this.
The gaunt coachman stopped the carriage and opened the door for them, guiding Narcissa and Draco out of the carriage and through the doors of the prison. They past between two Dementors and Draco shivered, his chest squeezing tight in his chest. Even in the cold, he felt the unmistakable feeling of flames licking at his skin, heard the faint echo of himself calling out for Crabbe as he was engulfed in flame…
They were through the door and the memory stopped and Draco mimicked his mother’s brave face. They were led to a chamber where they signed in and handed over their wands to a security wizard. “Can’t be too careful,” the wizard said, his voice horace and his words slurred. “‘Specially with those ol’ death eaters itchin’ to ge’ out.” Draco was sure the scars on his forearm burned with shame.
He should be in here, too. Locked up with the rest of the death eaters, forced to live out the rest of his days like the rest of them.
“Deep breaths, Draco,” his mother whispered to him, kissing his temple. Draco nodded and sucked in a shaking breath. Sweet Salazar he needed to get out of here.
The visitor’s room had a table and two chairs. Draco held out one chair for his mother and then elected to stand behind her, leaning against the damp stone wall. He heard his father’s arrival before he saw him. Chains clanged loudly and there was a slow shuffling of feet. He was brought into the room by a wizard guard who chained him to a latch on the floor and on the table before shoving him into the chair.
Lucius Malfoy’s eyes were sunken in, the shadows underneath them a deep and unforgiving purple. Chunks of his hair were torn out, and what was left was lackluster and stringy. He looked like he was on death’s door.
“Oh Lucius,” his mother said sadly, her hand to her mouth. Lucius shook his head and feebly lifted a hand, telling her not to worry.
He looked up to Draco. “You look well, son.” Draco just hummed neutrally. “It is good to see you both.”
“Are you fairing well?” Narcissa asked and Draco almost spoke up, just to point out how stupid of a question that was. Obviously he wasn’t fairing well. He was in prison. The point was to not fair well.
“That’s actually why I asked for you two,” Lucius said, his voice hardly above a whisper. Draco had to strain to listen. “I know most of the Malfoy fortune and assets have been frozen or discarded…” Draco narrowed his eyes. What did his father care about any of that? “...but there’s a few matters that need to be dealt with. Things put aside to take care of you and Draco…” put aside? “...not as much as I had hoped to leave you with…” Draco straightened up a little, head cocked to the side.
“You’re dying,” he said flatly, showing no emotion, strictly just stating a fact. Narcissa gasped and put a hand to her mouth, the other to her heart.
“Oh Lucius,” she said again, tears in her eyes. But Lucius looked right at Draco, eyes boring into him for a long moment before he nodded once.
“I am, yes,” Lucius said. “The Healers came by a few weeks ago and ran tests, gave me the news.” For a moment, Draco wondered what was killing his father, if there was a cure. His Healer mind was putting observations together to come up with a solution. But then it suddenly stopped. Because Draco didn’t care what was killing his father.
He was almost…happy. And that thought felt like a kick to the gut.
“How long?” Draco asked, his voice still void of any emotion. His mother was crying silently in her chair and he stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. He was here for her after all.
“A few weeks,” Lucius said. “Probably less with the state of this place.” He gestured to the prison walls. “As I was saying, the matters…”
“We don’t need it,” Draco said sharply.
“Draco,” his mother whispered.
“We don’t,” Draco said again. His mother was independently wealthy from her Black family inheritance. Draco made investments on his own with the money he earned. Most of what he’d inherited from the trust his father set for when he turned of age went to causes he knew would anger Lucius. He only used it to help others, not himself. Whatever Lucius squirreled away for this moment, Draco didn’t want anything to do with it.
“Draco…” he father started slowly. “You need…”
“I need nothing,” Draco said angrily, his voice rising. “We have spent the last half a decade crawling out of the hell-hole you dug for us when you choose your side in the war!” He didn’t register that he’d advanced around the table. “After five years I finally FINALLY can enter most rooms without people flinching at my existence. I have established my own networks and connections with good people. I have a good job, I help people!” He was shouting in his father’s face. “I need nothing from you. Nothing that will suck my mother and I into the guilt and torment of carrying your family name. Nothing that will erase the literal years of work we have done to prove that we are more than a Death Eater’s rotten family.”
“Draco,” Narcissa’s hand was on his shoulder, pulling him away from his father and back to her safety.
“You don’t even care about us,” Draco continued on. “You know what it’s like to drag us here, but you did it anyway! You haven’t asked about us or how we are or what our lives have been like since you’ve been locked up,” the words and the anger poured out of him, and he couldn’t stop. Lucius looked up at him blankly, if not a bit surprised by his son’s outburst. He shrugged out of his mother’s grasp and got in his face.
“Do you have anything to say, father?” Draco asked angrily. Did he want to apologize? Did he want to beg for forgiveness? Did he want to tell Draco and Narcissa that he loved them? “Anything at all?”
“I think it’s best you go now, Draco,” Lucius said after a moment. Draco was breathing heavily, hands shaking. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know if there was anything left to say. He stood up straight, towering over his father who was slumped lower in his chair.
“Goodbye, Father,” Draco said, then he turned away and looked to his mother. “I’ll be in the hall when you’re ready.”
“Draco,” Narcissa pleaded, but Draco was done with all of it, and he stormed out of the visitor’s room, leaving the last memory of his father behind him.
—--------------------------------------------------------
Hermione had read the same page of her book at least a dozen times, distracted but trying to make her way through it. It was night by now, the only light in her living room was the fireplace and a few string lights over her couch. She picked up her mug of tea and took a sip, putting it down beside the note that was delivered a few hours ago.
Can’t do dinner. Something’s come up. Talk soon. - Draco
Something about the hastily written note threw Hermione off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe because if something came up with work, he usually explained what the problem was in more detail. Maybe because when he had written her in the past, it had more…heart? This note felt like an afterthought, like he’d forgotten about her until the last minute and then sent this.
Maybe Hermione was being paranoid though, and Draco was just busy at work. They’d spent nearly every evening together this week, they were allowed to have a night apart. This was good for them and whatever this budding thing was between them. They didn’t need to be codependent on each other. They could survive a night apart.
Even thinking that though, something felt wrong in her gut. She had half a mind to write to him and ask if he wanted her to bring him something to eat, just so she could see him and tell herself he was fine. The last time work kept him from a date, he’d ended up working for 30 hours during an emergency and hand nearly passed out on his feet at the end of it, having skipped multiple meals.
She decided to go to her desk and find some stationary to send him a quick note when someone came through her floo and she spun around, quickly lifting her wand to protect herself from an intruder and looking eye to eye with Blaise Zambini.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Hermione asked, lowering her wand only a fraction.
“Obviously I’m here to join you for tea,” he said sarcastically. He looked between her and her wand for a moment before lifting up his hands innocently. “I come in peace, Granger.” Hermione mumbled an apology and lowered her wand. She may not know Blaise very well, and may not particularly like the Blaise she did know, but she also knew he was Draco’s best friend, so it was unlikely he was here to hurt her.
“Is something wrong?” Hermione asked. Blaise frowned and his shoulders slumped.
“You should probably come with me,” Blaise said, gesturing to the floo. “Have you been to Draco’s flat?” Hermione nodded. “Great,” he took a step toward her floo but she put a hand out to stop him.
“Is something wrong?” she asked again, worry rising in her voice. Blaise sighed and looked up to her.
“I’ve been trying to get to him all evening,” Blaise said. “I’ve got Pansy there now threatening to blast the door open. But…” he shrugged. “I figured, maybe you could get through to him.”
“Get through to him?” Hermione repeated, worry bubbling in her gut.
“It’ll make more sense when we get there,” Blaise said. “And I’ll explain what I can on the way. Will you come?”
“Of course,” Hermione didn’t even hesitate, grabbing her cloak off the hook and following Blaise through the fireplace.
They came through to Draco’s sitting room. Pansy Parkinson was lying lazily on the sofa, an arm draped over her eyes.
“I thought you were going to blast the door open,” Blaise crossed his arms at her.
“I threatened to,” Pansy said angrily. “And then - like the literal child he is - he sent a bat bogey hex under the door after me. I’ve only just gotten the counter to take effect.” Hermione peered at her and did notice that her face was bright red and her nose a bit swollen.
“Do you need ice?” Hermione asked. Pansy shook her head and pointed in the direction of Draco’s room.
“No, I just need to know he’s alive so I can do my best friend duties and say I’ve helped.”
“This is why Draco says your bed-side manner needs work,” Blaise teased.
“This why I make a point to interact with patients as little as possible,” Pansy shrugged. “Well he hexed me and yelled at Blaise, and I’m pretty sure he made Theo cry, you’re up Granger.”
“Why is he in such a bad mood?” Hermione asked, apprehensive.
“Lucius,” they said together, and Hermione winced. “See,” Blaise pointed at Hermione. “She gets it.” Hermione made another face. The last she saw Lucius, he was being carted off to Azkaban after his trial. The time before that, he’d been at Hogwarts during the final battle. She hated that man with every fiber of her being.
“Maybe we should just leave Draco alone?” Hermione said. “He’ll come out when he’s ready, right?”
“The last time Draco went to visit Azkaban, he didn’t come out of his room for three weeks,” Pansy said. “Blaise and Theo literally broke down the door and dragged him into a shower and I had to set up an IV just to get nutrients into him.”
“He went to Azkaban today?” Hermione asked, horrified. The others nodded. She sighed and looked toward his room. “Alright, hold on.” She went in the opposite direction, finding herself in the kitchen. She dug around a few drawers before finding what she needed and shoving it in her pocket. Then she crossed down the hall again and stood outside Draco’s bedroom door, knocking gently.
“Pansy I swear to Merlin I will hex you again!” a muffled voice on the other side of the door shouted.
“I’d think twice before doing that, Draco Malfoy,” Hermione said sharply. Down the hall, Blaise and Pansy stuck their heads out of the sitting room, watching from a safe distance.
There was a long silence on the other side of the door, and Hermione could tell he was thinking about how to get her to leave. She leaned against the door frame, keeping her voice low. “I’m not going anywhere, Draco,” Hermione said. “So you can let me in now, or you can let me in later. Whenever you decide to do so, I’ll be here.” And she made a point of making a lot of noise as she sat down against his door. She pulled out her wand and summoned a book from his library, smiling a little as it zoomed over Pansy and Blaise’s heads.
“We should…” Blaise started. Hermione waved a hand at them, telling them they could go if they needed.
“I’ll write if I need you,” she said quietly, and that was enough for Pansy, who apparated away with a pop. Blaise hesitated for a moment. “It’s okay,” she told him. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“I hope you get through to him,” Blaise said, and Hermione nodded in understanding before he popped away as well.
Hermione got three chapters into the book before she heard the click of the lock on Draco’s bedroom door slide open. Eagerly, she stood up and opened the door, coming inside. “Draco?” He was lying in bed, the covers up over his head, his back to her. She closed the door behind her and walked in cautiously. “Draco?” she tried again.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice wet and croaking. He’d been crying? Hermione’s heart ached as she made her way to the side of the bed and sat down beside him, putting her hand on the edge of the covers and pulling them back slowly. Draco turned away from the light and covered his face, but not before she could see the tears streaking down the sharp angled of his face, or the mess of his hair against the black silk pillows. “I’m sorry I…”
Hermione shushed him and ran a hand over his hair, “Don’t you dare apologize,” she said, using her free hand to reach into her pocket and pull out the Honeydukes chocolate she’d found in his cupboard. “Here, eat some,” she said, pressing it into his hand. “You need it after the day you’ve had.”
Draco moved slowly to sit up in bed and unwrap the chocolate, taking a small bite out of the corner of the sweet. Immediately, a little color came back to his cheeks and Hermione tried to keep her sigh of relief from being too loud. She reached out and cupped his cheek, running a thumb across his cheek bone, wiping away the line of tears on his face. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. Draco shook his head. “Okay then,” Hermione slipped out of her shoes and joined him on the bed on the other side, settling comfortably. Draco looked at her, surprise on his face.
“You’re not going to pry it out of me?” he asked.
“Well that wouldn’t be very productive, would it?” Hermione said, looking over at him. “You already feel terrible, making you talk about it when you’re not ready isn’t going to be helpful, and is going to actually make you feel worse, so you can tell me when you want to, if you want to. Until then…” she re-opened the book in her lap. “You should finish that chocolate bar. It’ll do you good after the day you had.” Draco didn’t argue as he took another bite of the chocolate bar and watched Hermione thoughtfully.
He pulled the blankets up over his shoulders again and leaned into Hermione a little, reading over her shoulder. “Mysteries of Udolpho?” Draco asked.
“Mhmm,” Hermione said. “I saw it there in your study the last time I was here. I’ve been meaning to read it.”
“Are there any books you haven’t been meaning to read?” Draco teased and she nudged him playfully. They settled together, Draco’s head on Hermione’s shoulder, and sat quietly for a while. It took another two chapters before Draco spoke up.
“My father is dying,” he said out of the blue. Hermione looked up suddenly, her eyes wide when they met his distant gray ones. “Yeah,” Draco said. “That’s what he dragged us out to Azkaban to talk about. Wanted to make sure we didn’t mess up any affairs he had left.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said when Draco paused.
“Why?” Draco asked, sitting up to look at her directly. “I’ve wanted to be rid of him for ages. This is a good thing, right?” He ran both hands through his hair. “I’m not sorry about any of it.”
“Draco,” she said slowly.
“You shouldn’t be either!” He sat up suddenly. “Salazar’s sake Hermione, he watched you be tortured! He hunted you and your friends!”
“We’re not talking about me,” Hermione said, placing her hand on his arm. “This isn’t about what I’m feeling right now.”
“God I hate him,” Draco tore away and was standing now, black sweatpants sitting on his hips as he began to pace. “He’s done nothing but make me miserable for years. People still spit on me occasionally because of him,” Draco shook his head, pacing hard. Hermione slid to the edge of the bed, facing him as he listed things he hated about Lucius. After a few laps, Hermione gently reached out and grabbed his hand, halting him. Draco froze, looking down at her hand lacing with his. “I gave him a chance you know,” he said quietly, a dramatic change from the yelling only moments before.
“A chance for what?” Hermione asked quietly. Draco shrugged.
“I don’t know, to say anything that could redeem him, even a little…” he let out a shuddering breath and Hermione squeezed his hand. “I’d hoped… I had hoped he’d at least say some part of him loved me. Even in his own way. I don’t know why I wanted that from him…”
“Because he’s your father,” Hermione said simply, ducking her head to look Draco in the eyes. “And because there’s a part of you that still loves him.” He shook his head a little, about to argue with her but she pressed on. “You do, Draco. That’s why you’re so angry with him. What he’s done wouldn't hurt so much if you didn’t love him too.”
The pain that’s been at the base of his throat finally released as he let out a single sob that had Hermione rising to her feet to embrace him. Draco still couldn’t fully wrap his head around why he was sobbing, but once the floodgates opened he couldn’t stop, and his whole body shook as he cried into Hermione’s shoulder, holding her close.
“It’s okay, Draco,” Hermione soothed him, running her hand through his hair. “It’s okay, I’m here, you’re alright.” He couldn’t speak, wouldn’t even know what to say if he could, so he just continued to sob. Even as Hermione eased him back to bed and held him, he just let it out. It felt like every feeling he’d suppressed since the war ended (and even before that if he was being honest) leached out of him at that moment. Eventually, the tears subsided and his body felt heavy. Hermione moved him slowly so that he was lying back, head in her lap, her hand back in his hair. She used her free hand to move the blankets around them and then leaned down to kiss the top of his head. He tried to thank her - for coming, for staying, for being a light in the darkness that swelled inside of him - but he was asleep before the words left his lips.
—------------------------------------------------------------
“Do you think he’s killed her?” Pansy whispered as she, Blaise, and Theo aparated into Draco’s sitting room. They arrived to silence in the flat, which worried all of them.
“If anything, she’s killed him,” Theo shrugged. “At this point, I’d help her hide the body.”
“Marlin, and Draco says I’m a bad friend…” Blaise said, tip-toeing down the hall to the bedroom. The door was ajar, but he didn’t dare look in. Instead he hesitated, causing the other two to freeze behind him.
“What is it?” Pansy asked. “I don’t have all night, I have plans, you know.”
“With who?” Theo asked, affronted.
“I hang out with other people besides you idiots…” Pansy snapped and Theo took a step back from her. Blaise rolled his eyes.
“What if they’re…” he made a crude gesture with his hands. “I don’t want to see that.”
“Then you shouldn’t be sneaking into my flat,” Draco spoke from the doorway. The three Slytherins jumped and Draco leaned against the doorframe, amused.
“We were just checking in on you,” Theo said first. Draco rose an eyebrow. His hair was wet, like he’d recently taken a shower, and he was in soft lounge clothes and bare feet. He was still a bit pale (more so than normal) and there was redness around his eyes, but all in all he looked better than he had when they were there earlier.
“I’m better, thanks,” Draco said. “Now if you can please…”
“And Granger’s still alive?” Pansy added. “We brought her here, so if you killed her in one of your rage fits, that’s on us.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “She’s fine, too. No harm was done to anyone.”
Blaise, narrowed his eyes at Draco, who narrowed his eyes back. Without breaking the stare, Blaise called out. “Granger? You alive?”
“I’m fine, Blaise,” Hermione called back. “Thank you for checking!”
“Satisfied?” Draco asked.
“I am,” Pansy shrugged. She patted Draco on the cheek. “See you at work tomorrow.” And then she aparated away.
“Glad you’re not dead,” Theo shrugged, tuning down the hall. “I’m using your floo. Coming Blaise?”
“Yeah,” Blaise shrugged. When Theo was far enough away though, Blaise gave Draco a wordless look. Draco responded by putting his hand on Blaise’s shoulder.
“I’ll fill you in later, but I’m good, I promise,” Draco said. “Thank you for getting Hermione for me. I appreciate it.” Blaise shrugged nonchalantly, but he smiled nonetheless.
“See you later then. I better catch Theo before he misses his grate home and ends up in Italy again. Bye Granger!” He called out as he walked off.
“Bye Zambini,” Hermione’s voice trailed after him as he hurried down the hall.
When his friends were gone, Draco locked his bedroom door and then respelled the trespass protections on his flat. He leaned against the door with a heavy sigh.
In his bed, hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head and wearing one of his favorite Quidditch world cup shirts, Hermione was snickering into her pillow. “They’re exhausting,” Draco said.
“They’re your friends,” Hermione said. “And they love you.”
“I know,” Draco said with another sigh as he went back to bed and crawled under the covers, leaning on his elbow to look up. “I love them too, but don’t tell them. I’ll never hear the end of it.” That made Hermione laugh. “Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” Draco asked, sitting up a little more to lean into Hermione.
Hermione settled into the bed more, cuddled up with Draco, and opened The Mysteries of Udolpho, picking up where they left off and reading out loud.