Sins of the Father

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Hermione bolted straight up in bed with a startled gasp, sweat dripping from her brow. Her vision remained fuzzy and blurred as she looked around her room, blinking in the darkness. Her heart was pounding. Panting, she rubbed her hand across her face.

Draco had been gone for three days.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. The past three days had been hard. She had found herself missing Draco terribly on the first day and then, during the night she had awoken, unable to sleep. Her first thought was to go find Draco and curl up next to him and fall into oblivion wrapped in his warmth. She had even pushed her blankets off herself and crossed her darkened floor when she suddenly realized he wasn’t at the Burrow.

On the heels of that thought was the idea that he might never come back to the Burrow.

She hadn’t been able to sleep for the rest of the night. She stared at the ceiling until dawn came and washed her ceiling in beautiful colors, the light falling across the objects of her room. It only further reminded her of Draco and of the morning they had spent together.

Needless to say, Harry and Ron had noticed the marked change in her from the previous day. They had watched her during all meals, yet avoided being alone with her or directly confronting her about the issue. It was odd how they had gone from extremely confrontational over Draco and Hermione’s budding friendship to treating it as though it was a cancerous growth that no one spoke up. She felt like a leper as she walked through the house that day, racing up to her room when dinner was finished so she wouldn’t have to see their faces.

Once she was there, however, she was reminded of the fact that she was alone. With Draco gone, and the boys ignoring her, she felt as though she was the only person who existed in a post-apocalyptic world.

Is this what a broken heart felt like?

She found herself unable to breath as the tears rolled down her face. Sheer and utter hopelessness descended upon her for the first time since she had been released from Malfoy Manor. The depression she felt gripped her heart.

She awoke the next morning sprawled on her bed, a sharp pain in her neck from sleeping funny, her face sticky with tears and her clothes wrinkled and rumpled.

She didn’t leave her room until lunchtime and, not surprisingly, the boys didn’t come to see her. Once or twice she thought she heard someone stop outside her door before sighing and hurrying away, but she knew it couldn’t have been the boys.
When it finally sounded as if the house was quiet, she had crept out for lunch. She knew she must have looked a fright, imagining deep, black circles under her eyes. She crept into the kitchen as silently as she could. She hadn’t seen Remus at the table, watching her curiously.

Her movements jittery, she had walked to the refrigerator, pulling open the door in hopes of finding fixings for a sandwich. When she turned around with cold cuts and cheese in her hands, only to meet Remus’ searching eyes, she nearly dropped her food.

“It’s good to see you eating something.” She didn’t say anything and sat at the table, slowly fixing a sandwich, using the loaf of bread Molly generally kept on the table. Remus watched her as she moved. Her movements were slow and deliberate, almost as if all her bones were broken or she was in immense physical pain, a victim of the Cruciatus Curse. Remus kept his eyes trained on her until, very shakily, she set her sandwich down and closed her eyes.

“What?” She asked through clenched teeth.

Remus sighed, but didn’t make any move to go to her. He knew what she was asking him. “I thought that would be obvious. We’re all concerned for you. With Draco gone . . . things have changed.” Hermione’s body trembled as he said this. This time, he leaned forward, his bright eyes boring into her. “You know that I had to tell them. I couldn’t continue letting them beat themselves up over your situation. Harry and Ron have felt so much guilt this past year for not having done something, anything that would have gotten you out of that place faster. It was killing them, watching you disappear like that. They deserved -,”

Hermione interrupted him, her voice a low and dangerous growl. “Did you ever think that what they deserved and what I deserved were at complete odds with each other? I deserved to tell them about it on my own terms, with my own memories. They did not deserve a second hand account from someone who was not there.” Hermione looked up into his eyes such hurt and betrayal that softened Remus’ heart. However, Hermione wasn’t about to be swayed as she felt her tears well behind her eyes.

“Gods damn it, Remus,” she tried holding her tears back but they began to fall regardless. She rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes and shaking silently. “Why do I always cry whenever you’re around?”

The scraping of a chair alerted her to the fact that he was getting up. She felt his presence behind her and sighed, leaning her head back against his body yet keeping her eyes still closed with her palm pressed over them. His hands came up and rested on her shoulders, beginning to slowly massage her.

“Hermione, you are a beautiful and brilliant witch. You deserve so much more then what you’re been given. I hope you can forgive me, but I understand it may take time.” She took a shaky breath and lowered her hands, settling herself more snugly against his front.

“Of course I can forgive you, Remus. You’ve been the only person that’s tried to help me pick the pieces up. Well . . . you and Draco,” her voice petered off as she thought of Draco, wondering where he was and if he was okay. Remus seemed to sense her distress, bending down and pulling her into a hug from behind. She rested her head in the croak of his arm, bringing her arms up to curl around his strong forearms.

“Bloody hell.” The two jumped at the sound of Ron’s voice, instantly coming apart and looking up at him. Ron frowned when he noticed Hermione looked like she’s been crying. “Are you okay there, Mione? You look like you’ve been -,”

“I’m fine Ron.”

“But, Mione, your face -,”

“Ronald. I am fine!” Hermione pushed back from the table, nearly sending Remus flying, and huffed past the both of them. Remus glared at Ron and then walked out of the kitchen as well. Ron was left by himself, looking around the empty kitchen in wonder.

“What?” He asked to himself out loud.

That had been yesterday and still Draco was not home. Closing her eyes, Hermione sighed. Back. Draco was not back .

She got up and decided to walk around the house. She had this compulsion to go outside and walk in the dark, breathe in the midnight air and get lost in the sounds of the night, but she knew that wasn’t safe. As much as she loved the night, and dreamt to lose herself in it as she once had, she could no longer do that. Who knew what was roaming in the darkness.

Another casualty of the war: her freedom.

She slid her door open and then looked around the hallway. It was dark and her eyes were adjusting, the hallway cavernous compared to her tiny room with the curtains open, allowing the moonlight to dance amongst her possessions. She looked to her left, and then her right, deciding where to go. Slowly she turned her head towards Draco’s room, cocking her head and furrowing her brow when she saw that the light was on under his door.

Why was his light on?

She took a tentative step towards his room and then paused, flexing her fingers. Should she go back and get her wand? Her fingers nearly itched for her vine wood wand, wanting desperately to hold it in her hands, to reassure her nothing was wrong. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She should be happy. Draco was home . . . back.

That’s why the light was on. No one was here to get her.

She took a deep breath and walked to his door, noticing it was slightly open. She pushed on the wood a little, the door giving way easily. She peeked her head in, looking around. It looked the way it always did. Neat, no clothes on the floor, Quidditch gear no where in sight. No one would ever guess that the Malfoy heir spent time in this room. The only inkling that he lived there at all was –
The fact that he was sitting on the bed staring at her.

She gasped, surprised to find him. She didn’t move towards him, though, her eyes taking in his appearance. Something was different about the way he looked. His entire presence had a different air to it, almost as if he had managed to regain some control and power over his situation while he was away. She noticed with a slight frown that it seemed his arrogance had returned again, that same arrogance that he used as a buffer between him and the “common” people of the world.

It almost scared her to see his eyes so dark and cold and fathomless, just like his father’s. As of late, life and happiness had been bleeding into the edges of his eyes, and every so often it seemed that he was truly happy.

Something had happened this weekend, though, and it couldn’t have been good.

When he didn’t move towards her, just staring at her as he sat with his hands clasped, she sighed and walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. She missed the smile that briefly ghosted across his lips as she turned her back and closed the door to his room. When she turned around, his face was schooled back into that damn mask of emotionless boredom that she had come to hate.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon, Draco.” The air seemed to be rent with tension, Hermione realized. It felt like she was talking to a caged animal that, upon being released, was likely to strike at some unknown time. There was a glint in his eye, a hardened, steely glint that made her more nervous then she ever had been when dealing with him.

“The Dark Lord was kind this time. Realized I had certain . . . things to get back to.” Hermione cocked her head to one side, puzzled over his words. He still hadn’t made any move towards her however, his gray eyes hooded as he stared at her. She walked over and stood in front of him, looking down at him with a slight frown.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Draco? You seem a little . . . peaky. Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Draco raised one shoulder in an imperious shrug, closing his eyes. He sighed and slowly opened his eyes again. “Nothing is going on that you should worry your little head about. I am perfectly fine.”
Hermione felt affronted by his cold tone. Wasn’t it just three days ago that they had slept in that bed he was indifferently sitting on? She thought back on his words, the words he had used that morning to remind her that regardless of what happened, they would always have that night. They would always have that morning, that kiss, the way he had stood up to her friends by telling her how he felt.

Sighing, he stood up, running a hand through his hair before meeting her eyes again. The metallic glint in them had softened, but there still seemed to be a feral glint to them. He grabbed her arms abruptly, running his fingers up and down her soft skin. The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, as if it hurt to smile, and then he was slowly bending his head down to her lips.

It felt as magical as it had before. His soft lips caressed her own, ghosting across the soft petals of her mouth. Hermione leaned her head back with a moan, allowing Draco the opening to slip his tongue inside, coaxing her own tongue into a playful dance. Hermione brought her arms up around his neck, dragging his body closer to hers. He responded by firmly wrapping his arms around her body, one hand clasping the middle of her back and the other running down to her bottom, his fingers squeezing and playing with the pliant flesh. Hermione moaned even louder, feeling herself being swept up in the emotions he was putting out in his kiss, the heat he was putting out after the coldness she had encountered when she walked in the room.

“Hermione,” he whispered, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth. She arched into his body, an intense wave of desire rushing down her spine, pooling in her most private area, and then hitting her toes. She had never felt like this. After what his father had done to her, she never imagined she would feel like this.

Then, it happened. Draco had grabbed her tightly, and swung her around. At first she laughed, thinking he was dancing with her, until she felt that strange pull at the back of her navel that could only mean one thing. She squeezed her eyes, and Draco, tightly, having no other option. The darkness of Apparition claimed her until she landed abruptly, her legs coming into shocking contact with whatever floor she was now standing on.

She immediately jolted out of Draco’s arms, panic and anger etched on her features. Draco avoided her eyes, looking at the floor as she looked around the room they were standing in. The room was opulent, the color scheme one of lush greens and rich black. The room seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t place it. She was obviously in a house lived in by a Slytherin. But who‘s house, exactly? She saw a crest on the wall, but she couldn’t make out any differentiating details. Her attention was then pulled to the bed, black silk sheets with black pillows, a lush comforter spilled over it. The crest was reprinted on the comforter and she took a step forward, noticing there was a saying there in French.

And that’s when she knew. Her eyes widened as she looked back up at Draco.

“Welcome back to Malfoy Manor, Miss Granger,” the low, cultured voice of Lucius Malfoy came from behind her, pouring over her body like a cold waterfall. She slowly turned to look at him, the imposing blond stepping out from the shadows, resting his hands one top of his cane. “We have all been anticipating your return to us, some more then others.” He arched an eyebrow, a feral grin settling on his cruel lips.


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A/N: I am practically begging for your forgiveness in regards to the fact that I have been lax in updating this story. Words cannot describe my shame at not updating. I just wanted to give y'all the best chapter I could. And I really hope this chapter does it. I was planning on taking this chapter, and story, in a different direction, but this just came out and I loved it. I am already apologizing for the next two chapters, but I believe it has to be done. This is my 'serious' story. I have smut on my page, so if this isn't to your liking, hop over there. I suggest 'The Education,' though if you like your men a little older (and Slytherin) 'The Storm' may be better suited to your preferrences. As always, review if you feel like it please. If not, then enjoy and look out for the next chapter!!

Cheerio!!