Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Forgiven	By : Tassanaburrfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 18105 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Harry Potter or the books or contents. This work is purely for my own pleasure, no profit to be made.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Hermione stared in horror as the woman gave her an insane grin. “Let’s see how dirty your blood is,” the woman said as she waved her wand at Hermione. “Crucio!”
The pain woke Hermione up with a shout and she nearly jumped out of bed. She looked around the room frantically. Snatching her wand from the nightstand, she cast Lumos and glanced about, expelling the shadows as much as she could. Throwing her covers off of her, she crawled out of bed and looked around for her dressing gown.
She hadn’t been able to speak to Draco when she returned to the Manor. The moment she walked into the large home, Narcissa had taken her by the hand and led her to her bedroom. Together, they went through the massive closet and decided which clothes Hermione liked and which ones she didn’t. Hermione wasn’t overly fond of dresses, however, upon seeing Narcissa’s old wardrobe, she found herself rethinking her preferences. Once they had chosen about four dresses, Narcissa had promised Hermione that they would go to Twilfitt and Tatting’s the following morning.
By the time they had finished, Hermione was so tired that she was barely able to stay awake long enough to sit through supper. She went to bed hoping to get a good night’s rest. Finding her dressing gown, she wrapped it around her shoulders. She wished she had paid attention to where Draco’s rooms were.
Stepping out into the hallway, the Muggle born raised her glowing wand and looking down the empty corridor. She closed her eyes and visualized the rooms before she realized that she had only ever seen his sitting room. Snapping her eyes open, she took a deep breath and started down the hall, hoping she was going the right way. She had cast a silent revealing spell at each door she came to, but found nothing.
Finally getting to the end of the hall, the Gryffindor frowned. Perhaps at a later date she could create a map similar to the Marauder’s Map of Malfoy Manor. She sighed. “Bit late for that, Hermione,” she whispered to herself and turned down another corridor.
She became frustrated when she came upon a seemingly dead end. However, she noticed a small knob sticking out from the wall. Curiosity dared her to try and turn it. To her pleasant surprise, the wall cracked to reveal a door. Smiling, she pulled the door open and slipped into the room. She nearly dropped her wand at the sight before her.
The room was vast and reminded her of a music room. A black grand piano sat against the far wall. In front of it were several rows of chairs. There was a harp next to the piano. Hermione stepped further into the room. Near her to the right was a set of armchairs and a table. Behind the chairs was a black bookcase that carried several books and, curious, Hermione moved to them and perused the titles. “Oh!” she breathed when she saw that the books were actually books full of sheet music. She saw titles from Mozart and Beethoven.
Pulling a book titled “Bach’s Greatest Works” she carefully opened it and was further surprised to find full songs from one of her all-time favourite composers. Did the Malfoys actually play these? She wondered as she closed the book and placed it back on the shelf.
Turning, she saw a table on the other side of the room with a Wizard’s chess board etched atop it. She crossed the room to look at the table and was astonished to see the table had been made of solid marble. The etchings of the chess board made her eyes widened. It wasn’t just scratches. Running her fingers over the deep grooves, she imagined it had taken the artist hours.
Glancing up she saw another bookshelf, this one by the chess board. Each shelf had a different set of chess pieces. She blinked several times and wondered just how many pieces they needed. One set in particular actually had dragons for rooks and she knew this had to be Draco’s set.
Lifting a hand, she touched one of the dragons and jumped in shock. She knew the pieces moved, but she had forgotten. The dragon eyed her, tilting its head this way and that, much like a lizard would do. Then, it lazily stretched its wings and, still staring at her, it turned in its spot and settled down. It opened its maw in a mock yawn.
“Hermione?” said a masculine voice and the Muggle born turned to see Draco standing in the doorway.
Like her, he wore a nearly floor length silk dressing gown. His gown, however, was green with silver lining. On his left chest was the Slytherin crest and Hermione suspected a larger crest graced his back. It amazed her how much the Malfoy family took pride in their Hogwarts House.
She smiled. “Hey,” she said softly.
He gave her a slight nod and approached her. Slipping a hand around her waist, he gazed down into her eyes. “Are you alright, love?” he asked.
Her brows furrowed. “I could be better,” she admitted honestly. “I had a terrible dream and came to find you.”
He lifted a single blond brow. “Well,” he said as he looked around the room, “this isn’t really the right place.”
Her smile widened. “Well, I found you, didn’t I?” she pointed out.
He chuckled and kissed the top of her forehead. “Maisey told me you were wandering the halls and said you were heading to the drawing room,” he explained. “Concerned, I came here.”
She froze. She had thought she had stumbled upon a music room. Glancing up, she saw the fixture that once held a crystal chandelier. Near the chess table was another table and next to that was another group of armchairs in front of a fireplace. Staring at the empty spot above the fireplace that obviously once held a portrait, Hermione started to shake.
She could hear psychotic laughter echoing through the room and she buried her face in Draco’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him. Dipping his head, he whispered in her ear, “I had this room sealed. How did you find it?”
Hermione shook her head, unable to answer. Closing his eyes, Draco knew he needed to take her out of this room and quickly, but she didn’t want to budge. When he tried to break their embrace, she wrapped her own arms around his body and held him as though her life depended upon it.
“Come on, love,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here.”
She nodded, but still did not let go or move. “I can still hear her laughter,” she murmured against his chest. “I didn’t know when I came in here, but the moment you said something, I could…” She looked up at him and he nearly died. Her eyes were swollen and red. He had never seen such a haunted look as her eyes filled with tears that did not shed.
“She’s gone,” he told her. “She can never hurt you again, my love. She’s gone. Forever.”
She lifted a hand and cupped his jaw. “You won’t leave me, will you?”
His lips lifted in a soft smile that did not reach his eyes. “No. I’ll never leave you,” he vowed.
She nodded again and finally stepped away from him, but she refused to let go of his arm. She looked about the room. “This is a lovely room,” she commented. “Do you play?” she added nodding towards the piano.
He looked at the piano and shook his head. He shrugged then. “Actually, I do play a little,” he admitted. “My father’s the pianist, though. Mother plays the harp.”
“Do you have any musical talent? Aside from dancing that is?”
He lifted a single brow. “I sing a little,” he confessed, “but only on special occasions. I wanted to learn the guitar, but Father refused to allow me to have lessons.”
She glanced up at him with a frown. “Why?”
He shrugged. “He considers guitars to be Muggle instruments.”
“He has a bookshelf of music composed by Muggle conductors,” she argued. “Bit hypocritical, isn’t he?”
Smiling, Draco looked down at her. “You tell me. He doesn’t like the idea of you and I dating, he followed the Dark Lord and spouted about blood purity, and yet he was planning on marrying a Muggle shortly after Hogwarts.”
“That reminds me!” she said, looking at him. She gave a final glance around the room. “Can we go somewhere a bit more… away from here to talk?”
He lifted his brow. It was nearly three in the morning and he wondered for a moment if he should point that out to her. Thinking better of it, he nodded. “We could go to the sitting room,” he suggested. When she opened her mouth to give a slight protest, he clarified, “The main sitting room, love.”
She nodded. “I just didn’t want your mother to catch us in your rooms again. We’ve barely a week and a half until the wedding and…”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, love,” he assured. “I know how important our upcoming nuptials are and I won’t do anything to ruin them.”
She nodded again and he led her out of the room and down the hall. She kept a careful eye on her surroundings, wanting to memorize where they were so she didn’t accidentally end up back in the drawing room again. They walked in silence, though Hermione had a thousand questions for him. Had Andromeda spoken the truth to her? Why would she lie?
When they entered the room, he indicated an armchair that she should sit in while he went to the wet bar and poured himself a finger of brandy. He was dead tired, but if talking would appease his wife-to-be, then he would indulge her. “So, what’s on your mind, love?” he asked as he turned to look at her and lean against the bar.
She stared at him for a moment as she sat in the overstuffed armchair. Did all the rooms have armchairs by the fireplaces? Even her rooms were designed in a similar fashion and she silently made a mental note to explore the Manor a bit more to see if her suspicions were true.
“Why do you want to marry me, Draco?” she asked directly.
He raised both of his eyebrows and drawled, “We’ve been over this many times…”
“Yes, but you’ve never fully answered the question,” she argued. “It hasn’t even been a month since we started dating. In fact, it’s been barely two weeks. And now your mother and I are talking wedding dresses and Ginny is putting together a wedding boutique.”
“If we don’t marry before Father gets out…”
She waved a hand to cut him off and stood. “It seems like a rush, though, doesn’t it? We hardly know one another and yet we’re agreeing to spend the rest of our lives together.”
He shrugged. “My parents didn’t really know one another until they married,” he pointed out. “And my grandparents had arranged marriages. At least I’ve been given the option to choose my bride.”
“Yes, but why me?” she pressed as she walked towards him. “You could marry any Pureblood girl in Britain and quite possibly the world. Yet you chose me, a Muggle born whose only connection to wealth and privilege derive from the fact that I helped Harry Potter save the world.”
He sighed. “Your parents weren’t exactly paupers, love,” he reminded her. “I also know you have very little interest in my money, though I’m sure you may find that as an added bonus.”
“No, I don’t,” she denied. Placing a hand on his arm, she sighed. “I just want to know the truth, Draco.”
His eyes narrowed as he glanced at her hand and then back at her. “Where is this coming from?” he asked. “You know how I feel about you, Hermione. Should I shout it to the world? Would that make you happy?”
Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “I’ve no interest in making a spectacle about my private life,” she said and she turned away from him. “I just… You know your parents did know one another,” she said, changing the subject and looking at him. “They were dating in Hogwarts.”
“On and off,” he admitted. “But what do they have to do with anything?”
“You said they didn’t know each other,” she said, frowning. “How could they not know each other and still date?”
“He knew she was from a wealthy family and vice versa,” he said, looking a bit perturbed. “When Father did decide to ask for Mother’s hand, he approached her father with the proposition. With my Grandfather Malfoy, Father was able to convince my Grandfather Black that marriage to my mother would be a good thing. It would unite the two families. Yes, he had dated her in school, but that was mostly to let others know that she belonged to him and no one else. Call it… staking his territory, if you will.” He pushed himself off the bar and took a sip of his drink. “They didn’t really spend much time together, though.”
“Yes, but your aunt said…”
“My aunt?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowed. Realization dawned on him and he set his drink down. “What did she tell you?” he growled.
Hermione knew she had said the wrong thing, but she didn’t really care. “Only the truth,” she told him. “Which is more than what you and your mum have told me.”
He sneered, “And what ‘truth’ has she spat? Remember, Granger, my aunt has never been in my life. She was gone long before I was even thought of.”
“You’re right. She doesn’t know you, but she does know your parents. And she warned me about them and how…”
“Did she?” he interrupted. “Let me guess, she vomited blood purity rubbish and probably even told you neither of my parents have changed. Anything she has said about me is pure speculation as she doesn’t even bloody know me! Not once in my life has she ever even sent me an owl.”
“Yes, but she was cast out by the family,” she argued. “Your grandparents…”
“Did what they thought was best,” he hissed. “They grew up in different times, love, and Andromeda ran away to marry a Muggle born. Did you know Grandfather Black had originally approached Grandfather Malfoy with the hope of uniting the family with her? He felt that she would be a suitable match for Father, but both Father and Grandfather Malfoy turned the offer down. That was when Father suggested Mother. Andromeda is two years Father’s senior. Not that that really makes much difference, but he had already grown attached to my mother by then. After he turned her down, she grew angry and that’s when she ran off with the Muggle born. It wasn’t long after they discovered that she was pregnant and married. It wasn’t right what my grandfather Black had done, but he did what he thought was best. Bloody hell, even today, marrying a Muggle born is taboo. If any of my grandparents were alive today…”
“So why bother?” she asked. “If their approval is so important, then why marry me? What have you to gain in all of this?”
“Aside from marrying the girl I love?” He rolled his eyes. “Hermione, you are intelligent, witty, brave…”
“Yes, I know my qualities,” she hissed. “I also would have been Head Girl had I been able to attend school, and you yourself made it a point to tell me I was one of the most beautiful girls in school, though while we were in school, you consistently berated me and teased me for my looks.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. She could feel her anger mounting as she continued, “Oh, yes, I know you were only saying those things because I am a Mudblood and your father would never allow his only son to marry one, but the facts still remain. Tell me, Draco, did you plan on Ron being there that day? It’s no longer a secret that you had sent those flowers to my office, but were you hoping he would see them?’
“Yes, I was.”
She stared at him in shock. “And your kindness to Maisey? You allow her to follow you everywhere and even engage her in conversation,” she stated accusingly. “What about that day when you had actually offered her food from your plate? At the time, I had thought you were just being sweet, but was that a calculated move on your part?”
Merlin, he was tired! While Hermione had been trying on dresses with Narcissa, he had taken his broom and travelled over the entire estate, checking on the production lines and trying to learn something from the account books. The very last thing he had expected was to get into a heated debate with his wife before he managed to get any sleep. He took a pull from his drink and turned to pour some more. Capping the decanter, he swirled the golden brown liquid as he walked to one of the armchairs and sat down upon it. When had he started thinking of Hermione as his wife? Was it at the Minister’s office or before then? Not that it mattered much. By his estimation, they should be married by now. If not for Potter…
He took another sip of his drink and grimaced. “Let me ask you something, love,” he said, glancing up at her. He waved his hand at the chair across from him. “Come, sit with me.” As she sat, he licked his lips and met her honeyed eyes. “You and Weasel had just broken up. You know as well as I that that farce of a relationship wouldn’t have lasted much longer. As studious as you are and as ill-tempered as he is, you might have ended up in a very long, unhappy marriage, if you ever married at all. Given what the two of you were arguing about, I’d wager it wouldn’t have gotten that far.” He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and cradling his glass within his hands. “I’ve never been much interested in house elf rights or even Muggle things, however, I have been interested in you from the moment I had met you.” He stopped her before she could say anything.
“Think about it, Hermione,” he told her. “When we started Hogwarts all those years ago, it was my belief, a belief I had been raised on, that Muggles were inferior, the least human of us all. Muggle borns were merely freaks of nature that threatened our very existence and way of life.” He took another sip of his drink. “Yet, here was a girl, some knobby kneed, freckled faced, bushy haired girl straight from story books, who was not only Muggle born, but could wield magic better than most Purebloods. I wanted to dismiss it and for a few years, I did. Then, this duckling managed to blossom into a beautiful swan. I witnessed how her beauty began to match her brains and her only true desire in life was to save the world. And she did.” He leaned back against the cushions of the chair.
“I’m not proud of my past, love,” he continued. “I have done things and witnessed things that no child should ever be subjected to, as you have. I know more about the Dark Arts than probably anyone else in our year. Merlin, I was the poster child!” He sniffed, “No doubt, if it weren’t for my abilities, I would probably never have become a Death Eater at such a young age.”
He stared at her. “To answer your question, I wasn’t much interested in giving Maisey food from my plate,” he said, unblinking. “But I wanted you to see that I was willing to change my ways. You want house elf rights. It’s your passion. I knew that if I wanted you, I would have to make your passions my passions as well. I would have to start caring. So, yes, I offered Maisey food from my plate. I ordered her to clean her cloth and take better care of herself. I also forbade her from punishing herself when she made a mistake. I will admit that I didn’t do that for her benefit. She would have been content to continue life as it was before. I did it for you.
“I sent you those flowers because I wanted to free you from Weasel,” he explained. “I saw how he was treating you. Not bothering to dance with his girl at the ball? Merlin, from what I learned, he didn’t even bother to show up! Who does that? The rest of his family was there. I even spoke to his parents and offered them my condolences.”
“Molly told me about that,” she said.
He nodded. “Do you know where he was that night, love?” he asked, giving her a measured look. “Nott saw him in the Three Broomsticks guiding some slag up the stairs.” He made a face and drained the rest of his drink. “You don’t deserve that. After all you’ve been through, after all you’ve done. You deserve better, and I want to be the one to give you better.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she glanced down at her hands. “No, I don’t,” she whispered.
“Stop it,” he growled, setting his glass on the little table next to his chair and scooting towards her. He placed a hand on her knee and touched her chin with the fingers of his other hand, pushing her head up to look at him. “You did what you had to do to protect your family. Let me spell it out for you, love. The Dark Lord did have Snatchers looking for your parents, but he figured they couldn’t find them because of your parents’ blood. Muggles are harder to track than wizards. No one had known you had cast an Oblivion spell on them and that saved their lives.”
“But I couldn’t bring them back,” she said softly as tears began to fall.
“Only because it takes something Darker to bring them back. You know Father is going to help you,” he told her.
She wiped her tears with the back of one of her hands. “That’s another thing your aunt warned me. Your father. She said he would try to trick me. He’d put poison in my drink and…”
“Hermione,” he said slowly. “That woman is more than likely still bitter that he had chosen her sister over her. Father wouldn’t poison you because he knows what that would do to me. Once you and I are married, we’ll be bound together. Forever. And that is a bound that can never be broken. Not by Potter or Weasel and, most especially, not by my parents.”
The Muggle born closed her eyes. Was she being stupid? Andromeda told her to be cautious. “She was just concerned about me, Draco,” the Gryffindor said. “In their past, your father had been known to drug girls and bring them to his dorm.”
He raised a single brow. “Really?” he said, not really surprised. “We’ve all experimented with drugs, love. I’m sure even you and your friends…”
Her eyes shot open and she stared at him. “Why would you think that?! And the way she made it sound, these weren’t recreational drugs,” she said. “If what she said to me was true, then he raped these girls.”
His frown deepened as he stood and walked up to the fire. Turning, he glared at the Muggle born. “Be careful with what you believe, Hermione. My father is a lot of things, but he would never rape someone,” he sneered. “If he did have sex with any girl in school, it was mutual. I don’t know what that woman told you, but before you run off spouting lies about my father or our family, you’d be best to ask the source.” He turned back to the fire, resting his arm on the mantle and his forehead on his arm.
She nodded, knowing he was right. While she wasn’t sure whether Andromeda had spoken the truth or not, she knew the best way to find out would be to simply ask Lucius. But, “Why would she say that, though, if it wasn’t true?”
“Honestly, Hermione!” he snarled. “Think about what you said for one bloody minute. Do you remember anything about our fourth year? Or the years after? There’s still rumours you and Krum are dating, and I read an article just last month stating that you were having his love child.”
She made a sour face. “Viktor and I were friends. Still are come to think of it.”
“And do you have a love child together?” he asked.
Her face twisted in disgust and she shook her head vigorously. “Of course not.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “There you go,” he said as though that proved his point. “I won’t deny that Father may have been promiscuous in his youth. Merlin knows I was. However, promiscuity does not equate rape, or using drugs for rape.” He sighed and glanced tiredly at his bride. “I don’t know what Muggles did at the time, but Father and Mother both went to Hogwarts during the late 60s, early 70s. Drugs were a big thing at the time and Father in particular did experiment with them. I think it was mostly to rebel against my grandfather.”
She nodded. “Many Muggles did as well,” she admitted. “I’m not sure if my parents did, however. They never said anything about it.”
He shrugged as he plopped back down in his chair. “You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he repeated, letting his head fall back against the chair. “And you should know that. People have a way of spinning lies to make them sound like the truth, especially when they want to appeal to another.”
“Something you do rather well, I might add,” she said testily.
He glared at her. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” she asked. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
He sat up straight so he could look at her better. “I know where you’re going with this,” he explained. “I wasn’t the one who cheated on you, Hermione. Nor would I. Yes, I’ll admit that my methods of courtship may have been a bit… unorthodox for a Gryffindor, but for a Slytherin and a Malfoy? It’s how we do things. If we see something we want, we do whatever we can to get it. I know money will never appeal to you, so chucking Galleons at you, buying you expensive gifts, and taking you to first class places won’t do much.” He sighed. Lifting a hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying, love.”
She knew he was. Thus far, he had done little but shown her respect and courtesy. “I know,” she said. “And I really do appreciate it.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?” he asked as he opened his eyes and glanced at her.
Hermione shook her head. “Most of what your aunt said had to do with your parents. She warned me of your father and even told me not to expect much from your mother, especially once we marry. She said that they will never change their views, especially where it concerns Muggles and Muggle borns.”
His eyebrows twitched, but he nodded. “More than likely, she’s right,” he admitted. “But Mother already considers you different from other Muggle borns. I have no doubt that Father will come to view you that way as well.”
“But I’m not different…”
“In some ways, you are,” he said. “In a lot of ways, you’re different from any other witch or wizard in all of Great Britain. They don’t call you ‘the brightest witch of your age’ for no reason, love. That has little to do with blood, of course, and more to do with your academics, and my mother is starting to see that. What’s more, she’s seeing the real you. The person beyond the blood status and intellect.”
“She’s still prejudice against Muggles and Muggle borns,” Hermione stated.
Draco sighed. “More than likely she always will be,” he admitted. “Muggles weren’t exactly accepting of our kind, even when they did know of us. We learned this in History of Magic.”
“That doesn’t excuse what your father has done,” she said.
“You’re right. It doesn’t,” he agreed. “It explains some of it, though. Father is a bit aggressive in his approach towards Muggles, yes, but… and I’ll deny this if you ever repeat it… he’s mostly scared of them.” Both of her eyebrows shot up and he continued, “Muggles have technologies many wizards could never even begin to imagine. I’ll admit that much of the wizarding dress style, for example, is frozen in Medieval or Victorian periods. A lot of the technologies Muggles have, we never will, unless someone figures out how to get magic and electricity to work together, but honestly, we don’t need it. Why use a toaster when you can simply wave your wand and toast the bread yourself?”
Hermione didn’t really have an answer for that, so she didn’t comment. Instead, she said, “I find it hard to believe that your father is scared of Muggles.”
“He’ll never admit it,” Draco drawled as he leaned back in his chair again. “However, when you think about guns and cannons, it’s not hard to guess. Being burned at the stake is something any witch or wizard can escape, but guillotines? Lynching? I actually heard of one where the Muggles will dip you in hot tar and feathers. And there’s countless other forms of torture that could make even the bravest of men tremble at just the thought.” He shook his head. “No magic can stop an axe from taking off your head. Didn’t the Gryffindors even have a House ghost who had been beheaded?”
“Nearly beheaded,” the Muggle born corrected.
He nodded. “Can you still not see why father would fear them? And fear will always drive a person to do things they never would even begin to imagine doing. Especially when that person has a wife and child to consider,” he told her. Draco sighed. “Would you like to know a secret? The Malfoy family hasn’t always been against Muggles. In fact, my ancestors used to attend parties with the wealthiest of Muggles and even invite them here to our own parties.”
She looked at him in surprise and he gave her a small smile. “From what I’ve heard, we were really close, and when the Ministry instituted the Statute of Secrecy, the Malfoys were some of the biggest protestors against it. However, the Ministry had some really good reasons for it and it wasn’t long before our family learned those reasons and agreed with them. See, Muggles were learning that there were other ways besides burnings to kill witches and wizards. And they really started hunting us down. Mother said it was because they were jealous, but Father actually told me it was more because of this new Muggle religion that had risen. Well, it wasn’t really ‘new’ so much as more and more Muggles started practicing it. However, this religion started teaching that magic was a sin and the practice of it was a one-way ticket to Hell.”
“Where did you learn that?” Hermione asked curiously. She didn’t really know much about religion, as neither of her parents had ever been particularly religious, but it still intrigued her.
Draco thought over it a moment. Snapping his fingers, he stood up. “Come with me,” he said as he offered her his hand.
Taking his hand, she allowed him to lead her out of the sitting room and down the hall. She took note of her surroundings, not wanting to end up back in the drawing room again. Their trek was short-lived, however, as he brought her into the library. Letting go of her hand, he began perusing the shelves.
“We don’t have much in the way of Muggle literature,” he admitted as he continued to look. “My great-great grandfather tossed much of it, but there were a few things that even my father won’t get rid of. Most of them, of course, are great works such as Shakespeare and Socrates. Many of the old Muggle Philosophers and poets were incredible and quite brilliant. However…”
Hermione watched and listened to him. Glancing about the room, she couldn’t help but breathe in the smell. She loved dusty old books and decided then that she would revisit this room at a later date. The room was enormous and she wondered, albeit briefly, how they managed to put such a large room inside the Manor. She answered her own question of course: Magic. Realizing she had lost Draco, she began searching for him.
He emerged from behind several shelves with a thick book in his hands and a smirk on his face. “Found it,” he said. “Father had all these books categorized, but during the Dark Lord’s stay, they sort of became mixed up. As much as you like books, I’m sure Father would appreciate the help in reorganizing these when he returns.”
Her smile brightened as he led her to a table. While she was uncertain about being alone with Lucius in any room, even the Malfoy library, she could hardly turn down the idea of organizing books. She joined Draco at the table, watching as he opened the book and began flipping through it. “What is that?” she asked.
Holding his place with one hand, he turned the book over to show her the cover. “The Bible,” he told her. “I’m sure you’ve seen this before?”
She nodded. “Oh yes. My parents kept one on the bookshelf in our sitting room,” she admitted. “I did enjoy the story of Moses when he parted the Red Sea.”
Grey eyes met honey and he smiled. “This book is chock full of magic, but...” He opened the book back up and pointed to a line within the book of Exodus. The line was highlighted in bright green. “’Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,’” he quoted aloud.
They were both silent for a long time. Draco watched as the Muggle born stared at the page. He could see the emotions playing across her face as the words began to sink into her mind. Finally, his voice soft and quiet he rasped, “Countless witches and wizards alike were put to death because of those words. And Muggles didn’t care if they had an actual witch or wizard. The threat was still blatantly clear.”
Hermione had read this book thousands of times in her youth. How had she missed that line? How was it that her parents had not pointed it out to her? She could feel a cold sweat start to crawl up her spine and a fear she had never known began to swirl in her brain. She was a Gryffindor and she was proud of her own heritage. Biting her bottom lip, she began to understand why so many Purebloods despised Muggles.
“Your father believes Muggle borns would follow this?”
“My father knows that they have,” he told her. “He actually met a Muggle born once outside of Hogwarts. He hadn’t even said anything to the Muggle born and the bloke was brandishing a crucifix at Father and telling him that he would burn in Hell.”
Under any normal circumstance, Hermione would have found this highly amusing, however, it made her stop. “Was he doing anything? I mean, if he had just become a Death Eater…”
“Father had barely started school,” he told her. “His parents had taken him into London to eat at some high class Muggle establishment. The Muggle born was supposed to be their waiter. My grandfather actually had to speak to the manager because the bloke refused to serve them. He kept going around the restaurant spouting about how my grandparents were going to curse everyone there if they even looked at my grandparents.”
“Well, that’s overdoing it a bit,” she commented as she frowned.
He nodded. “Those were my thoughts, too, when Father told me the story. Not a very good first impression, either,” he said pointedly. “It had been the first time Father had ever even seen a Muggle born.”
“How did he know the guy was Muggle born?”
Draco shrugged. “Honestly, he could have easily have been a Muggle or a Squib. It doesn’t really matter, though, does it?” he said as he frowned. “It set a precedent for Father that’s stuck with him throughout his life. Sure he knows that if a Muggle born actually goes to Hogwarts and learns about the magic, they are less likely to act that way, but there’s still that chance.”
They heard the chiming of a clock and looked up. Draco’s focus narrowed on a large grandfather clock in the corner of the library. How was it five o’clock so soon? He ran a hand through his hair before he rubbed his face and massaged his temples. He looked blearily at Hermione.
“Alright, love. We can do one of two things,” he told her. “We could both go into the sitting room and continue our discussion or I can escort you to your rooms so you can go back to sleep. Choose carefully, because I’m exhausted.”
She smiled and was about to suggest the latter. Thinking back to the dream she had, she decided against it, however. “We could go to the sitting room,” she suggested, “but we don’t have to talk. I could take one of these books with me to read while you nap on the couch.”
His eyes softened as he lifted his hand to cup her jaw. “You don’t want to be without me, do you?”
She shook her head and Draco found he just didn’t have the energy to disagree with her.
A few hours later, Narcissa was surprised to find the young couple laying together on the couch, with Draco’s arms wrapped protectively around Hermione. From the state of their clothing, she could see they hadn’t done anything the night before aside from sleep. The older witch smiled. She didn’t know much about Muggles, but the more she learned of Hermione, the more the child became dear to her. Seeing the soft smile on her son’s face was all the Pureblood witch needed to allow the Muggle born into her own heart.

Author's Note: Poor Draco. He just wants to sleep! *Giggles*
Trelweny: Yeah... That part's coming. Just trust me ;)
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