Love Thy Enemy

WARNING: Things get a might…explosive towards the end, not in a smutty way. Just didn’t want anyone getting overly upset.













CHAPTER 21: … Three Steps Back





“This place is ridiculous!” Hermione knew it was getting bad when she started talking to herself out loud. She had been exploring the “house”, if you could call it that. She called it a bloody enormous maze and she was the rat lost in the middle in search of the cheese. The cheese being the staircase that would lead her back to the second or first floor. She had mapped those areas out already and in a moment of desperate boredom had decided to find her way around the third and final floor of the monstrosity called Malfoy Manor.





Every time she turned a corner it seemed that she ended up back where she began. She figured she should open a few doors, peek inside and then do a temporary transfiguration of the door color so she would at least know where she had been and where she hadn’t. Things went well at first. She stumbled into a few guest suites, a small study, and a few bathrooms.





Finally she located the staircase with a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t go down just yet. She kept glancing over to the door at the end of the hall; it was almost as though she was drawn to it, as though something inside were calling to her. She felt stupid when she knocked softly, but it just “felt” like the room was occupied.





She pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside. The heavy drapes were pulled closed over the window, so she felt her way through the darkness and threw them open. She looked around in amazement at the room. A large four poster bed in dark wood dominated the center of the room. The bed covered in a green and black tartan print, a pair of green and gray striped pajamas were thrown carelessly over the end of the bed.



Hermione took in the various personal effects, a snitch on the fireplace mantle, a broomstick leaning against the wall in the corner. Quidditch magazines littered a small table in the sitting area, a wireless radio sat on a desk littered with school books and parchment. This was Draco’s room, and it looked as though it had not been touched since he was there last.







“Who’s there?” A familiar voice asked. Hermione turned suddenly, almost expecting to see him standing in the doorway with his wand pointed at her. She walked slowly across the room and saw an easel sitting in the corner, covered in a white dust cloth. She pulled the canvas material away slowly and her eyes widened. “Granger! What are you doing in my bedroom?”





It was a painting of Draco. It looked as though it had been done their last year at Hogwarts; most likely it was meant to be his graduation portrait.



“Draco…I….uhm….” Hermione didn’t know quite what to say. She had never been real sure about how the paintings in the wizarding world worked. They seemed sentient, yet the individual portrayed was dead. They could think, learn and communicate so effectively you could easily forget that they were crossed over. She gathered that they could come and go at will within the confines of the painting, where they were when not animating their likeness she couldn’t begin to fathom.





“Come on Granger, you must have some reason for being in my room.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “You look the same…but older. How long has it been?” He asked.





“Almost five years.” She told him, sitting on a stool in front of the easel. “How long has this portrait been covered?”





“You are the first person I have seen.” He said quietly. “What happened?”







“Harry succeeded Draco, Voldemort is dead.” She supposed it wasn’t the same as being a ghost, he wouldn’t know what was going on unless someone told him or he saw it for himself.





“My mother, she was killed when I was….but my father?” He asked almost hesitantly.







“He survived. He spent a year in Azkaban, and two on probation.” Draco closed his eyes and nodded slowly.







“In the end, he saw the truth; he was trying to help Severus.” Hermione gasped softly at that bit of intelligence.







“Why didn’t he tell the ministry that? He never mentioned….” She bit the inside of her lip gently.



“He’s a proud man, sometimes to a fault. You never told me what you are doing here.” Draco said.





“I live here, Draco. I didn’t know this was your room. I got lost on the third floor….”





“What do you mean you live here? Do you work for my father? Are you a slave?” He asked.





“No. Draco, I’m married to your father.” Had he been corporeal he probably would have fainted.





“You are joking, right?” Draco’s expression was one of complete dubiety.





“No.” She held up her left hand and showed him her wedding rings. “We were wed almost a month ago.”





“But he would never marry a mudblood! He would kill you first!” Draco declared forcefully.





“That’s why we are married. We have been taken into custody six times in the last two years for drawing our wands on each other in public.” She could see the confusion on his face. “The ministry sentenced us to marriage. We are now unable to harm, or even think about harming the other.”





“Well isn’t that a bitch. He spent most of his life trying to get rid of muggleborns and now he’s married to one!” Draco was clearly amused.





“Are you alright?” She asked. He tilted his head to the side, his hair falling over his eyes in a manner so familiar it made her want to weep.





“Yes. I don’t know how to explain it other than to tell you I never imagined such peace.” He looked behind her to his room, noting that nothing had changed since he left. “I thought maybe it was father who had come into the room when I sensed someone near my painting.” He looked so disappointed.





“I’m sorry, Draco. I don’t think he’s ready. I know he misses you very much.” She said.





“You might not believe it, but he was a good father. I mean he was very strict and on some issues he just would not budge, but I never doubted that my father loved me. He really isn’t such a bad guy.” Draco said.





“I’m still not completely convinced of that. He has moments when he is so funny and sweet that I wonder if he had an evil twin. But then he’ll go and say something totally barbaric and insulting and I want to hex him into next week.” She laughed. Draco was looking at her curiously.





“Are you in love with him?” He asked.





“Absolutely not!”





“I think the lady dost protest too much.” He taunted.





“I like him, sometimes, but I do not love him. We try to get along because we have no choice; the ministry has declared that we are legally wed. But neither of us is living under any misconceptions that this marriage is now, or ever will be based on love.”





“I’m sorry we couldn’t be friends.” He said, almost forlornly.





“We could be friends now.” She said. “I am family, sort of.”





“A mudblood Malfoy. Oh how the mighty have fallen.” He teased. “Do you think maybe my painting could be moved….I would like to see my father, and any brothers or sisters I may have.”





“None of those!” She laughed. “I told you we have only been married barely a month. I don’t think you will have any siblings, Draco.”





“Don’t count your chickens and all that jazz.” He laughed. “What about moving my painting?”





“I’ll work on it. It may take awhile. He can’t even look at photographs of you yet, Draco. But I will come up to visit regularly, and we can chat.”





“I would like that, very much.”





The door suddenly slammed open and Hermione fell backwards off of the stool, the back of her head hitting the corner of Draco’s old school trunk.



“What are you doing in here? No one is to be in here, ever!” Hermione frowned and sat up slowly. Lucius was standing in the doorway, his eyes flashing as he looked around in a panic. Hermione reached up and felt the back of her head, her hand coming away slightly sticky and covered with blood. Lucius didn’t even notice that she had been hurt.





She was jerked from the floor and slammed into his chest. He gripped her arms tight and shook her.





“Answer me! Why are you in my son’s room? Did you touch anything? Did you?” Her head snapped back, pain and dizziness washing over her.





“Lucius, please.” She whimpered in pain.





“Father, don’t! She’s injured; can’t you see she’s bleeding?” Lucius looked over at the painting of his son, the familiar face and bright silver eyes staring back at him pleadingly.





“Draco?” Lucius’s voice cracked slightly as he stared at his son.





“Don’t hurt her. She was lost, she stumbled in here on accident…..she did nothing wrong.” Lucius looked down at her tear streaked face and he felt sick when he saw the blood running down her neck and onto her blouse.





“Hermione? God….I am so sorry.” He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief and pressed it into the back of her head. “How badly are you hurt?”





“I don’t think it’s deep, head wounds bleed a lot. I’m sorry, I got lost…”



“Hush, just don’t talk. I am the one who is sorry.” He lowered his head and kissed her softly, amazed when she kissed him back. The spell released them and he turned her around to look at the back of her head. She had a large bump and a small wound, but it was nothing serious or life threatening.





“I’m okay.” She said, turning back to her husband. She had kissed him back, her heart filled with pity for the man who still grieved so violently for his son. His reaction, his anger had frightened her and at the moment, she needed to get as much space between them as she could. “I’m going to go to the healer and have it looked at.”





“I’ll take you.” Lucius stepped towards her and then froze when she flinched and backed up.





“NO!” She consciously slowed her panicked breathing. “It’s fine…just... I’ll see you at dinner. Draco, it was wonderful to talk to you.” She was practically running from the room. Running from him.



** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **





Told you. I didn’t like Lucius much by the end either, and he is what I am making him out to be. I had to delve into his grief and guilt over his family, and I told you all not to get too comfy with sweet Lucius…..he wasn’t always gonna be that way. Underneath it all, he is still a deatheater.



BUT….never fear, you know that I can not be happy with anything but a happy ending. It will just take our couple a bit more time and a lot more “work” to find it.. This is probably going to be my longest fan fic to date