Out of the Silent Planet

Title: Out of the Silent Planet (23/39)
Author: moirasfate/ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Plot driven smut, Darkfic, Romance, Drama, Angst...
Warnings: M/F, Bondage, slight non-con, voyeurism, oral, anal, Dom/sub issues, Dark!Draco, and HBP spoilers.
Summary: Post-Hogwarts - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape's final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve' something of importance. Set eleven years after HBP.
Author's Notes: This is my first DM/HG ficlet, so please be kind to the newbie! The title of this fic is taken from C.S. Lewis' book, first in the Perelandra Chronicles.

Many thanks to kazfeist for improving this chapter!



Out of the Silent Planet
Chapter Twenty-three - Of hexes, tea and scorn




"I'm fine, Millie!"

Draco had just placed his cloak on the hook near the door when Hermione Granger's voice sounded from what Draco realized was the kitchen of her flat. Apparently no one had noticed that he had slipped through the wards and into the flat, or heard the bang of the front door and the automatic click of locks. Draco pulled his gloves free from his hands and set them on a small side table when he heard the unmistakable growl of Millicent Bulstrode...no, Longbottom's voice.

"Any more of these falls, Hermione, and I will make you use a Muggle walker! You've just gotten out of the hospital; don't make me put you back in one!"

Draco's brow arched as he moved through the entrance and into the small, darkened hall outside the kitchen door. The door was slightly ajar, but Draco did not enter as Millicent spoke again.

"And where was this elf, you mentioned, eh? You waited until I came by, lying on the bedroom floor like some old woman who had fallen and could not get up!"

"Millie...I just tripped, that's all..." Draco heard Hermione simper pathetically.

"A trip could snap bones...as it did today...what about next time? You don't seem to realize that the curse that bitch Bellatrix hit you with has turned the bones in your left leg into the bones of a ninety year old woman! While the rest of you is only in her late twenties, your leg has advanced arthritis, osteoporosis, and is about as strong as soft toffee! This just has to stop, Hermione!"

Draco's brow furrowed. Hermione had broken something?

"I don't have the time, Millie! The procedure would have me in the hospital for a month, at least, and I have wasted enough time as it is..." Hermione began, her voice rising as if trying to shout, but again, Millicent interrupted.

"That you have! Draco Malfoy...living in your flat! It is preposterous, Hermione! You've done enough, and what has he done for you, eh? Wasted your time, gotten you entangled in a blood oath, gotten you injured, gotten you totally hoodwinked, that's what!"

There was a crash of china breaking, and Millicent swore and Hermione sighed.

"I will admit only to the oath and the fact that this whole thing has distracted me from doing my job, but I was asking for Blaise to lash out, as horrible and twisted as it was... and I have NOT been hoodwinked!"

Draco heard Millicent huff after casting a repairing charm and the squeak of a kitchen chair as if Millicent were shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"Just you saying something that, Hermione, does not convince me."

"The oath is almost nonexistent now, Millie...and before long all the conditions will have been met and it will be over anyway," Hermione snarled.

Draco blinked. The oath had weakened.

It's your fault, isn't it?

You were foolish to form an oath with her, Draco.

I'm losing my leverage, you stupid old cripple!

Watch your tongue, boy.

An unpleasant shock ran through Draco's body, but he did not make a noise, Millicent was still deriding Draco from within the kitchen.

"How can you blindly trust him, Hermione, wasn't the fact that he had a hand in Dumbledore's death proof enough that he cannot be trusted?"

Draco gritted his teeth, just about to burst into the room and hex Millicent, but Hermione seemed to scream...

"You know that is not true, Millie! How can you say that?!"

The kitchen fell silent.

"I...I know. I just don't trust him...and I don't trust your state of mind at this point in time."

"Your words have been noted, Millie," Hermione hissed coldly.

"Now don’t misconstrue my words, Hermione. What I meant was...I am just wondering if your gracious pity and forgiveness has finally gone too far. With Severus, it was a different matter...but Draco...you don't...you don't know him like I do."

That much was true, Draco thought. Millicent most likely knew more about him that Draco would have liked, or at least the him from ages three to sixteen.

"I have an obligation..." Hermione began.

"You do not! Your duty is done, your obligations to Severus fulfilled! Don't even try to tell me that you have an obligation to Draco Malfoy!"

The kitchen fell silent again, and Draco took it as a cue to enter, but he froze as Millicent's whispered reached him from around the door.

"Don't tell me that you have feelings for him. Don't tell me that you have slept with him..." Millicent whispered in a scandalized tone.

"Millie...please, I don't want to talk about this anymore," Hermione groaned.

The kitchen was filled suddenly with oaths and more breaking china. It seemed to last for a long time until Millicent audibly cast an angry 'Reparo' and 'Evanesco.' Silence filled the kitchen again, but Draco was frozen outside the door. He knew Millie could get horribly violent when roused, and many a time he had been on the end of nasty improvised hexes, even before they were allowed wands...

"As your Healer, and your friend, I advise you to throw the man out, terminate whatever binding magical contracts you might have with him and go to St. Mungo's for treatment to your bones and your HEAD!"

The stomping of high heels on tile alerted Draco that Millicent was about to come through the kitchen door, and with the speed of a Seeker, he swept into the entrance hall and close to the door, but before he could feign the appearance of having just entered, he was pinned down by two very dark, very angry eyes.

"You!"

Draco turned slowly, an innocent expression on his face and met Millicent Longbottom's gaze. He had only seen her briefly when he had seen Hermione taken from Blaise's, but no words had been exchanged. In fact, Draco had been avoiding Millicent, Longbottom, and any other familiar faces ever since returning to Britain. But as he looked at the tall figure of Millicent Longbottom, dressed in a two piece gray suit, her long hair pulled up in a messy bun and her wand pointed at his face, Draco realized that Millicent had grown into a beautiful woman and not the overweight, butch and ugly little girl he remembered from Hogwarts.

"Hello, Millie, long time, no..."

"Lunch, tomorrow, one o'clock, my house in Hogsmeade. I want to talk to you, Draco Severian Malfoy!"

And with that, Millie stormed back into the kitchen, growling her good byes to Hermione and Floo’ed away. Draco was just standing in the open kitchen door, blinking rapidly before Hermione addressed him.

"And where have you been?" she asked irritably and Draco realized that she was sitting on a kitchen chair wrapped in an old quilt, her left leg propped up in another chair, the skin just below her bare knee red and bruised slightly.

"Out. What happened here?" he asked coolly, regaining his composure quickly. Hermione began growling her explanations, but Draco only half heard. His mind was still going over what he had heard Millie mention about treatment on Hermione's leg.

"...and where was that senile elf of yours? I thought that even with a broken leg and my wand not reacting to my 'Accio' incantations, he would help me!"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but stopped. He did not want to tell her about his reacquiring of the Manor yet.

"Did Millie heal you?" Draco asked, moving through the kitchen, eyeing the puddle of tea near the fireplace that Millie had missed Vanishing.

"Yes, but it still hurts. I think I'm building up a resistance to the potions I have to take..."

Draco glanced at Hermione, noticing that her eyes were wet with tears, and he felt a strange pang in his chest and quickly squelched whatever feeling was about to register in his mind. He was tired, despite being curious about the conversation he had just overheard. He called for Hobbin again, who popped into the kitchen, grinning strangely at Hermione's string of profanity and proclamations of hatred toward the elf. Draco had Hobbin arrange for a light supper, which Hermione refused.

"I want to go to bed. Millie is coming over tomorrow evening, I suppose to check on me...and then the day after I am going into the office!" Hermione stated angrily, starting to move from her place at the kitchen table.

Draco, who had flopped down at the rustic table, jumped to his feet as Hermione began to teeter on her bare feet, her quilt still wrapped about her body like a shield. Before she fell, Draco caught her and swept her seemingly light body up into his arms. They blinked at each other in surprise and finally Draco set his jaw, and looked away.

Again, the pang in his chest was smothered and he carried her out of the kitchen and into her room, kicking open the door and depositing her gently on her bed. Stepping back he glanced about the room, eyeing the photographs on the wall with distaste as well as the plain decor of the room.

"Quit scowling and leave me be," Hermione growled, wrapping her quilt around her and settling her head back onto her pillows, her face strained with what Draco could see was discomfort.

Draco said nothing, and turned and left the room, leaving the door open. He returned to the kitchen, frowning at Hobbin who stood by the kitchen table where a platter of some creamy soup was steaming and waiting for Draco to be tasted.

"You heard her calling out, didn't you, Hobbin?" Draco snarled, sitting down to his meal.

"Hobbin does not know what Master means."

Draco ignored the elf.

This arrangement was coming to an end, he knew. He was tired of trying to smother the sharp pangs of emotion his heart, he was tired of Vulcan's insistent and evocative whispers about Hermione Granger, he was simply tired. He was also beginning to doubting himself, which was perhaps the worst thing about this entire arrangement. He knew he was becoming soft, almost sympathetic toward Granger, and that was just not like him.

It is your doing, isn't it?

Eat your supper, Draco.

I cannot wait until I can absorb you and shut you up.

We have a truce for the time being, but I leave the date of our battle up to you, Viscount.

Shut up.

Mustering the last of his strength, Draco bathed. The hot water did nothing to rouse his sluggish senses, but he did peek in at Hermione as he walked to his borrowed room, a towel about his waist and wrapped around his hair. She was sleeping soundly, apparently in a potion-induced sleep from the empty phials he saw on the bedside table.

Finally he lay on the bed in his room, a towel still wrapped about his hair, staring at the ceiling. Slight dread washed through him at the thought of facing Millie, but he knew it had to be done, not only to ease the tension that permeated the very air, but also to state his true intentions to a fellow ex-Slytherin who was just as ambitious as he. The last coherent thoughts were of how he wanted to decorate his new quarters in the Manor, and possibly tear down the west wing...and the memories that lingered there.

* * *

When Draco Disapparated from outside Granger's door, he had made sure that Granger was up, fed, and coherent. With a few harsh words to Hobbin, Draco felt safe in leaving. Despite his icy exterior he could not stand the thought of leaving invalids to their own devices, intentionally or not. Hermione had taken refuge in her library and had forbade Draco to enter, let alone Hobbin, and if she needed anything, she would move herself and not depend on anyone.

It was more like Hermione Granger...to be fiercely independent.

Popping into the cold Scottish air was like a bucket full of icy water down his spine as compared to the somewhat balmy damp of London. His boots had alighted in a thick cover of snow and the wind was blowing harshly from the east. He had come to just in the path to the Shrieking Shack, which by some twist of fate was still standing just as emptily and eerily as Draco remembered it. He had asked Granger where Millie lived in Hogsmeade, and all the witch had answered was 'near the Shrieking Shack.' Gaining his bearings, Hogsmeade proper just down the hill from the Shrieking Shack, and there, on the outskirts between the Shack and the village, was a small house covered in snow nearest to the Black Lake.

Pulling the cowl of his cloak over his hair, Draco set off down the path and to the road. As he walked, he imagined that Millie had plenty of awful things to say, a hex or two to cast in his direction, and she would then try to have him swear something along the lines of leaving Granger alone. Millie had always been fiercely protective...even as a child when he, Millie and Pansy used to play together. Draco would usually push Pansy down, (she was clinging to him even then) and Millie would take the pug-faced girl's part. Even at Hogwarts, Millie seemed to coddle Pansy, not so much out of friendship, but out of pity. Millie had younger siblings and Draco always thought that that was perhaps why Millie had always been so protective...

He smirked to himself; it was really ironic that Millie and Granger were friends. Draco vaguely remembered that in second year, Granger had been paired with Millie during that catastrophe of a 'Duelling Club.' He did not want to remember his part of that awful day, but he did remember that Millie had put Granger into a fierce headlock...

Draco passed no one along the road, and soon came to a short lane leading to a garden gate with the name 'Longbottom' affixed to the wood on a shiny golden plaque. Rolling his eyes, Draco started up the lane. He was right on time when his gloved hand reached for the latch to the gate and he stepped into the surprisingly snow-free garden. Turning slightly to put the gate latch back down, Draco felt a hot prickling of eyes upon the back of his head.

Suddenly, before Draco had a chance to think, he was hanging upside down in the air, some invisible force holding him by the left leg, his cloak dangling over his face, as was his hair.

It was a Levicorpus hex, and something that Draco had only experienced once before, from the Half-Blood Prince himself...many years ago.

"Liberacorpus..." Draco sighed, twisting his body quickly so that he did not land on his head. Boots thudding against the flagstone walk to the front door of the Longbottom home, Draco smoothed his hair back from his face, his eyes meeting those of Neville Longbottom. "Don't tell me...you've been wanting to do that for a long time, right, Longbottom?"

Neville Longbottom was no longer the clumsy, plump boy Draco remembered from school. In fact, Neville was taller than Draco by at least three inches, wide shouldered with muscular, tanned arms sporting smudges of dirt on his rolled up shirtsleeves. Longbottom was smirking, his brown eyes twinkling as if he were about to burst out into raucous laughter.

"You might say that..."

Neville's wand was drawn and still fixed on Draco, which in turn made Draco very uneasy. With a snap of his wrist, Draco sent a jinx toward Neville, silently. And to Draco's delight and surprise, Neville waved the invisible, inaudible jinx away as if batting a fly.

The bumbling Squib of a boy was gone...and a powerful wizard remained.

Tricky.

He's grown much.

You seem pleased.

I am...I might have found myself a duelling partner.

He most likely does not want to duel with you, Draco. Maim or kill you, perhaps, but not duel.

"Is it customary to throw hexes at all your guests, Longbottom?"

Neville lowered his wand only slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied Draco with a degree of scrutiny that once again made Draco feel very uncomfortable. Longbottom seemed to be looking for something, or at something that Draco could not see.

"Of course not, Malfoy. Shall we call this exchange a bit of gentlemanly jest?"

Draco smirked, his lips pressed tightly together at the mocking tone of Longbottom's voice.

"Millie is inside, but I warn you, Malfoy, I will be of no assistance if she decides to hex your balls off," Longbottom chuckled, finally tucking his wand into a holster on the belt cinching his muddy jeans about his trim waist.

With a serious nod, Draco watched as Neville turned, scratching his nose, and went off across the green lawn and around the corner of the house. Blinking, Draco considered the house before him. It was a plain stone house with two stories and a plain slate roof. However, the lawn and the various rose bushes about the foundations were swathed in colours not seen until late spring or summer. Draco remembered that Neville Longbottom had been the Herbology prodigy in school, but as he noticed cross species hybrids of flowering bushes, he wondered how in the world Longbottom could suddenly be so proficient with his wand as well as a genius with not just a green thumb, but apparently all ten digits.

"Are you going to goggle all day at the rosebushes or come inside, Draco?"

The voice rang gruffly from the open front door, and Draco suddenly wished his newly rediscovered internal dialog with himself and his parasitic newly acquired conscience of sorts would disappear.

"Goggle, perhaps. Please tell me that you aren't going to just offer me tea, Millie," he drawled, his face hardening as his eyes swept over Millicent Longbottom's long, navy blue dress that made her appear more like a school marm than a married woman not yet thirty.

Pressing her hands to her hips, Millie tried to smile, but the lingering feeling of fear remained. She had watched Draco Malfoy come to the gate from the parlour window, and from the distance, Millie thought illogically for a moment that the ghost of Lucius Malfoy had come calling... But as she studied Draco, the feeling of dread melted away. Draco only resembled Lucius with the long blond hair and the heavy black cloak, but his eyes, his mouth, his height were all much different. His eyes were like Narcissa Malfoy's, more silver than gray, and Draco's mouth was like that of the Black family, tight, yet pliable, with pale pink sculpted lips that could smirk easily...Lucius' mouth was like a terrible gash or hard set line, prone to frowning maliciously. Even Draco had taken the Black family height, almost a head taller than what Millie remembered Lucius ever standing...so much more like Narcissa in ways...or perhaps the male attributes of being one half of the Black family line. All in all, Draco had become dashingly handsome, roguish, even more so than his sire, and also far more human.

"We have elf wine, but it would be wasted on you, Malfoy," Millie said in mock derision as Draco moved to the steps up to the door, Millie sidestepping so that her guest might pass.

She had also seen her husband jinx Draco, which had made her gasp and then begin giggling...there was never any love lost between Draco and Neville, and it would be far too much to ask that Draco and Neville ever act civilly toward each other during their lifetimes. As Draco moved inside the entry hall, Millie shut the front door and smirked, as Draco looked around the small, rustic entrance hall, with the wooden steps up to the second floor, the old windows of the dining room leading straight from the front door and on the other side of the house. He doffed his cloak so that the one house elf, Simsky, whom Millie had kept from her long gone family estate, caught it and without a word, skipped off to hang it away.

"At least your house is a bit more spacious than Granger's flat, though still a bit too small for my tastes, but better..." Draco muttered glancing through a doorway to the right below the stairs and into the study and library, and then to the left into Millie's parlour. The kitchen was out of plain view, but next to the study and the dining room in behind the parlour. Upstairs were bedrooms and the bathroom, all in all, compared to what Millie remembered of the Malfoy Manor, her home, called Rowena’s Respite, was a house that had much more history and fame than the white manor in Wiltshire.

Millie moved into the parlour where Simsky had already set out a tea tray on the ottoman between the two lounger armchairs by the fire, as well as a plate of buttery sweet biscuits and a platter of fruit. Draco followed behind Millie, his eyes alighting on the paintings in the room, landscapes mostly, except for one portrait of an older woman who seemed strangely familiar somehow. This painting was facing toward the window, with a perfect view of the hybrid rosebushes that grew just outside. She wore a hideous green velvet robe with a fox fur scarf, and atop her head, sat the most ridiculous hat with a stuffed vulture atop.

"Didn't your mother teach you that it is rude to stare, young man?" the woman derided from the gilt gold frame, and Draco forced his face straight to keep from laughing.

"Forgive me, madam," Draco muttered, moving to the empty lounger across from Millie, a smirk gracing his lips.

"Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother..." Millie supplied as she began pouring what smelled like a spicy tea into two fine china cups, passing one to Draco as he sat by the warm, crackling fire.

Draco nodded, sitting back into his chair and taking a sip of the spicy tea, the infusion quickly warming his insides after the cold walk down from the road to the Shrieking Shack. He watched his old classmate from over the rim of his cup as she, too, sat back and sipped her tea with a cool exterior, her dark eyes moving slowly from between the fire and Draco's black robes. The silence was heavy, and only the occasional crack of a log on the fire filling the room with sound.

"Hermione has told me her version of the events of your...your escape and your stay in Japan, Draco, so I really do not need to hear anything about that... What I want to know is...why."

"Why what?"

Millie set her cup upon the saucer resting in her right hand and balanced against the arm of the chair. Her face was still impassive, but Draco knew better, he could feel her anger, and her confusion.

"Why you came back, first of all."

Draco smirked, mimicking his old classmate and setting his cup down upon its saucer.

"I think that would be obvious, Millie."

Millie narrowed her dark eyes, her expression of one trying to see through some sheer curtain to something behind or underneath Draco Malfoy's handsome exterior.

"To continue the Malfoy line? To claim what is rightfully yours? To return to the land of your birth? I think there is something more to it than that, Draco. I am sure the reception you have been receiving has been less than welcome. You are the product of a long and very disliked lineage, Draco; surely I am telling you something that is not a totally alien concept to you."

Draco said nothing, but his smirk remained. The tone of his old classmate's voice was cold, deep and painfully true. Even the look on her face conveyed her distaste, if not disgust, of him...

"And what is more, you came home with Hermione Granger, some one who is supposedly 'beneath' you, at least, according to the ideals your family have spouted for generations. I want to know why... Why come back to this, when you are less than welcomed, and with Hermione."

"It was Severus' wish, Millie. Both myself and Miss Granger were the victims of a sly magical contract of sorts."

"You could have refused."

Draco's smirk faded from his lips and leaning forward he placed his chilling cup of tea upon the tray between himself and the stiff woman across from him.

"Why should I? I am no criminal in the eyes of the Ministry," Draco intoned coolly, sitting back once more. "My involvement with the Dark Lord had been explained, my name cleared, and my father executed for his crimes...apparently the sins of the father do not necessarily apply to the son."

Millie's mouth tightened. "Everyone knows that you had been threatened, Draco. Everyone knows you had no real choice in the matter, and that you did not murder Albus Dumbledore...but your exoneration came with a cost. Your mother was murdered, your father executed, your mind and body maimed...and now you are home and you have bound a woman to you who has no business or obligation to you besides fulfilling the dying wish of a man who was your better in so many ways."

Her voice was like ice, muttered darkly as her eyes moved from his face to the fire to her right. It struck Draco that moment, he barely knew this woman who sat across from him. So grown up and so much different from the blockish, ugly little girl he remembered, that he wondered if his memory of who Millicent Bulstrode really was, had failed him with age and time.

"I doubt that you have changed at all, Draco...from that spoiled little boy who told everyone you were fearless while clinging to the hem of your mother's robes. Have you grown up at all? Have you become someone I always thought would turn out better than his father in the end?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco growled.

Millie's eyes flickered in the firelight and she smiled, albeit sadly.

"You should cut your hair, Draco."

This statement was almost a whisper, but Draco knew why Millie had said it.

There had been a time, long ago, that Draco remembered how frightened Millie had been of his father when they were children. Perhaps they were five or six years old, and Millie's parents had come for their weekly luncheon with his parents... This arrangement was something constant in Draco's childhood, his father's friends or friends of the family were always over to the Manor to talk business, legitimate or no, or discuss matters of which Draco was never allowed to know , but did...all having to do with the Dark Lord. The Bulstrodes, the Parkinsons, the Goyles, the Crabbes, the Notts, even one time, Madam Zabini with a tiny Blaise, had all been to the Manor, some more than others, during Draco's childhood. The children of these families would play with Draco, or ignore him all together, amusing themselves with Draco's toys and the bits and bobs lying about his nursery. However, the most constant of his playmates had been Vince, Greg, Pansy and Millicent.

There had been a time, long ago, when Draco, Millie and Vince had been the only children in the Manor one day...and as per usual, Draco was teasing Millie. Even at five or six, Millie was much bigger than Draco and even Vince in those days, and because of it, Millie was teased incessantly. And on one occasion, being past the point of tears, Millie struck Draco across the face out of anger. It had been in the garden, below the terrace where the adults were having their luncheon, and the hard slap of Millie's hand across Draco's face had echoed through the garden and came to the keen ears of Lucius Malfoy.

In the end, Millie was on the receiving end of a strike from his father, knocked to the pebbled walk and skinning her knees. Draco remembered how Lucius had raged, so angry with the girl for striking her superior that the girl was too frightened to cry. With one more slap, Lucius pulled Draco away by the hand so forcefully that Draco ripped the sleeve of his shirt and was in turn slapped for being so weak as to ever take a slap from a girl...

Many years later, and even though Millie had come to play with Draco many times after that day, Millie told Draco that she thought Lucius was a foul man...which earned her another strike, this time from Draco. That had been during their first year in Slytherin and ever since, Millie had kept her distance...and after so many years had ended up alive and married to Neville Longbottom.

"I am not my father," Draco stated firmly.


"You have heard then, what happened to your father?" Millie asked cautiously, noticing that Draco's face was clouded and his eyes narrowed dangerously, apparently thinking about something of the past.

"I read it in the papers in Edo when he was executed."

"And then you know how your mother died?"

Draco stiffened slightly. "He murdered her in the Manor when the Dementors left Azkaban and the prisoners broke free."

Millie nodded solemnly. "She was protecting you again from his wrath at your failure...you do know that she sought refuge for a while with the Order of the Phoenix?"

Draco shook his head slowly, he had not known. His face cleared as he watched Millie drink the rest of her tea, resting the cup and saucer in her lap.

"It was only for a short while, shortly after you and Severus fled. It was at Severus' urgings that she did so. The summer after our sixth year, the War began in earnest and your mother was in danger. She supplied the Order with names and places, people to keep an eye on, and people who could be trusted and eventually added to the ranks against Voldemort."

At the mention at the Dark Lord's assumed name, Draco unconsciously stiffened, but the sting of the Mark was no longer present, only a palpable hum of anger from the presence that had taken up residence in his mind.

"She finally returned to the Manor after the summer, so heartsick over you that the only thing the Order knew of her was from owl posts on occasion. And when Lucius and many others escaped, it was too late..."

Millie's voice had thickened, but her eyes were dry of tears.

"She received your father and entreated him for peace...to forget the War, to forget his humiliation over himself and over you...but six days after he returned to the Manor, he murdered her and escaped back to Voldemort's side. No one would have known had it not been for the elves, and even they waited three days after her death to alert anyone."

Draco's eyes widened horribly and he rose to his feet in shock. Millie jumped slightly at Draco's violent movement, but took a breath when Draco moved closer to the fireplace, resting his forehead upon the mantle, looking down into the fire. Before he could ask, Millie continued.

"They were afraid that Lucius would return for they had little power to stop him from returning even though they were the heart that made the Manor safe...he was still their Master. And so your mother's name was added to the list of those your father murdered, or tried to murder, and eventually read at his sentencing..."

"And he was pushed through the Veil?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Draco sat down again, his gloved hands over his face, rubbing away his shame, his anger and his stinging eyes.

"I am not my father, Millie, I was corrupted, but I am free from his reins now," Draco whispered, lowering his hands to his lap and meeting the woman's dark eyes.

Millie smirked. "But you are not so removed from him that you would manipulate Pansy..."

Draco growled. "I don't even want to think about her now..."

"She was your friend, Draco..."

"She was a whore, bought to amuse me, bought to mould me into something like my father; she was no friend of mine."

"But she was mine! And despite what you think or what you feel, you killed her! You are not so unstained as to deny that!" Millie growled back, leaning forward in her chair, her face twisting horribly in anger.

Draco chuckled. "She was a Death Eater and a Death Eater's wife, and yet you still defend her...even after the humiliations she put you through..."

Millie said nothing, but her face was trembling as she sat back in her chair. "It was different after you left, Draco. She was forced, just like you, to take the Mark...to take Terrence Higgs as her husband. Do you honestly think that she would have done that if you had not left?"

"If I had not left, it would have been the same. She would have been a Death Eater and a Death Eater's wife...and in the end, we both would have been executed. It was not as if I wanted to leave in the first place; that was Severus and my mother's doing. And don't you dare defend that slag, friend or no, Millie. She cared as much for you as your family...a tool to be used and nothing more."

Millie's eyes were now filled with tears and her beautiful lips trembled. "And you used her...for your own twisted means...just like you did everyone else...just like you did Hermione..."

Draco's eyes flickered dangerously. "I took my revenge the only way I could then, I made Pansy look deep inside herself, made her mad with who she had made herself into...I, in no way forced her to take her life in such a pitiful manner. And as for Granger, there is no comparison between her and Parkinson!"

"You're using her for your revenge against us all... You will use her and then destroy her, and I cannot bear to see another friend destroyed by you!" Millie cried, almost in a scream of sharp words. "I wish Severus had never loved you! I wish you had died in the War! But no! You were safe and removed from it all. You should have died like all the others I loved!"

By now, fat, hot tears were streaming down Millie's pale cheeks and dripping off the end of her squared chin. She was gripping the arms of her chair as if to keep them from snatching up her wand and hexing or cursing him where he sat. Draco could only stare wide-eyed at the woman, his hands clenched in his lap.

"Leave Hermione alone, finish this oath you took, and leave her..." Millie whispered, wiping her hands over her face and dislodging several strands of dark hair from her tight bun. "I know that you have the Manor back...I know that you have your accounts open to your disposal, now release her."

Draco cleared his throat. "I was planning on doing just that, Millie," Draco said quietly, moving his eyes from Millie's flushed face and to the fire. Just seeing his old classmate so distraught caused his chest to tighten and a leak of emotion to slowly fill his mind and soul. It was a truly uncomfortable feeling, in truth, and he wanted this feeling to disappear.

"Then do it before she fancies herself in love with you..."

"What are you talking about?" Draco hissed, sudden anger filling him, a much more familiar feeling than pity or sympathy.

Millie wiped the last of her tears from her eyelashes and began pouring more tea. "You have been intimate with her, and I know you will not deny it although Hermione will not even speak of it."

"Why does that matter in the least?"

Millie shot Draco a knowing glance and passed his cup to him, her hand shaking slightly. Draco accepted the tea, but only let it rest on his knee and did not drink, but Millie sipped deeply before answering.

"Hermione is not like you...or anyone you know...not even like me, even though we are great friends. Have you forgotten so soon that she was a Gryffindor?"

"Don't be silly, Millie. How could I forget?"

Millie quirked her lips into a half smile and took another long drink of her tea. "Then you would know that Hermione has the personality to try to fix anything that she sees is out of sorts...or takes pity to a level that requires her to feel an obligation to see that that person is set to rights. Why she decided to become a Potions Mistress and not a Mediwitch, I'll never know. She is so compassionate, that even someone like you is not beyond her...her pity, sympathy, and care."

Draco huffed. "I don't want her pity, sympathy or care!"

"But you have inspired it somewhere along the way, whether it was before she found you in Japan or along the journey home. She cares for you in some fashion, and in some twisted way; which I would rather not analyze, you care for her. Why else would you form a blood oath with her?"

Angrily, Draco drank his scalding tea in two big gulps, leaning forward to slam the saucer and cup on the tray before him. "Convenience. And have you forgotten that I was a Slytherin?"

"One of the best, I remember. Your father is probably cursing your birth with this blood oath," Millie said softly with a hint of strange amusement, her eyes slightly red and her hands still trembling.

"Let him. If you have not noticed, I have little love for my father..." Draco grumbled, not wanting to get onto the subject of Lucius again. "Did Granger tell you the reasons why we formed an oath? It was totally her idea."

"No matter about that, Draco, but I do think it matters that you consented, and with what conditions? Safety? Entitlement to your inheritance? And to never have anything to do with Hermione ever again?" Millie asked slyly, grinning strangely over the rim of her teacup.

"Does Granger tell you everything, Millie?"

"Not everything. Most of what she hasn't told me, I have figured out. I am just curious as to why you, Draco Severian Malfoy, Pureblood advocate of the age, would have anything remotely sexual and potentially...how should I say it? With the potential of producing the first half blooded Malfoy heir, with my dearest friend, and my patient...Hermione Granger?"

Draco smirked. "Sheer amusement?"

Millie's sly smile faded as quickly as a winter cloud passing over a spring sun.

"I should hex you."

"That, too, would be amusing."

Millie narrowed her eyes, "Just answer my question."

"And what question would that be?" Draco drawled with an air of boredom.

"Don't be so daft, Draco, you know it annoys me."

Draco sighed, resting his elbows on the arms of the lounger, steepling his gloved fingers under his sharp chin. "Shall I admit to you, my dearest old classmate, that I wanted to know what it was like to have something that seemed forbidden for so long? Ah, I just admitted it, didn't I?"

The amusement on Draco's adult face was a strange sight to Millie, but it was not an expression that implied any sort of half-truth or lie. Millie's right eyebrow rose in surprise. She knew that there had been times at Hogwarts where she had heard Draco complain to Vince and Greg about Hermione...her so-called haughty attitude, her vicious right jab, and her liberal views on how a 'Mudblood' should behave in the presence of a Pureblood. It had always struck Millie as strange that Draco seemed to be obsessed with deriding Hermione when anyone else would have just overlooked the girl as part of a unit that was called the 'Golden Trio' in those days. But Draco seemed downright out of normal character when he talked about Hermione...even the tone he used calling her derogatory names... There had been poignant glances across the Great Hall or in classes, that even Millie had noticed which were all pointed to differing emotions in Draco towards Hermione. Hatred, jealousy, perhaps even admiration and wanting which had passed unnoticed by the best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, but Millie had noticed from time to time.

"So Hermione was someone you had wanted..." Millie whispered absently, her eyes moving to the fire, visions of their days at Hogwarts passing through her mind's eye.

Draco chuckled. "To a certain degree. The smartest witch at Hogwarts, the friend of Harry Potter, Viktor Krum's date to the Yule Ball, a Prefect, a fighter and a person who could spar on a physical level as well as on a verbal and intellectual one...I wasn't the only one she attracted in Slytherin. But you know what the problem really was...and not just her blood status...her single-mindedness. Theo was convinced she was a lesbian for a long time..."

Millie winced. Theodore Nott was a name she had not heard in a very long time. One of Lucius' victims, and one of Millie's close friends, perhaps her only true friend in Slytherin. Theo had been the first to go against his parents and not join the Dark Lord, and it had cost him his life. Theo was very much against Voldemort, after seeing how his family had blindly followed and suffered under the madman's rule. While Theo never really associated much with Draco in school, as small children, Theo had been one of the many playmates at the Manor at Wiltshire, and it was more often than not that Theo had not wanted to play with Draco, but had amused himself with Draco's many toys. There had been times that when Theo and Millie were both at the Malfoy Manor, they played together, and ignored Draco almost entirely, but Millie wondered if Draco remembered even that...

"Don't play with her, Draco; she is worth so much more than that..." Millie muttered, slowly banishing her thoughts of Theodore Nott from her mind.

"As if that were possible."

"You have tried, then?"

Draco said nothing, but glanced into the fire again. "I was surprised she was not married to Weasley."

"Goes to show how long you have been away. Hermione has not had a lack of lovers."

"Do tell?" Draco growled, startling Millie who had been expecting a nonchalant chuckle and not the strange possessive growl from Draco.

"I would rather not. I am not one to gossip, but obviously the thing with Weasley fell through, and that is all I have to say on that matter."

Despite the growl, Draco grinned. "I don't love her, if that is what you are thinking, Millie, and believe me, I could tell what you were thinking if I wanted."

Millie smirked. "So I have heard. I wonder why you haven't invaded my mind, Draco."

"No need. Not to mention I consider you a friend and not an enemy or someone who would hide something important from me..."

"Oh?"

"What is this procedure that you were urging Granger to have?" Draco asked, effectively changing the subject.

"A total replacement of the bones that make up her left hip and leg and a purging of all toxins and traces of the curse that struck her at the Battle of Little Hangleton. The curse is a lasting one and will continue to degrade not only the bone, but also the tissue in her left leg. If untreated, the curse, which acts like a cancer, will eventually invade and spread through her entire body," Millie intoned bitterly.

"And Aunt Bella cast this curse?"

Millie nodded, trying not to cringe at the title of 'aunt' attached to the name of Bellatrix Black Lestrange. The woman was not given over to the Veil, pushed through with little ceremony like Lucius, but had been literally torn apart in a ring of Manticores for an audience to watch. Even with Voldemort gone, the first years after the War had been dark with the bitter sentiments of the survivors.

"One of her own creation, it seems. The initial effect is akin to a bone-splintering curse, but the curse works over a period of time, making it difficult to heal the splintered bone and in addition to making it prone to re-break with trauma. Our firm is still analyzing the affects of the curse, working with St. Mungo's, the Ministry of Magic, and several other private firms in America and Australia to find a counter to the damage. It seems that your 'Aunt Bella' created the curse many years ago, passed it along to others and afflicted several other people with the curse in America, Bulgaria, Australia and as far away as the Ukraine...all places where Death Eaters have hidden, travelled or resided in at some point before they were apprehended. So far, we have successfully cured two others with this procedure, and now I hope that Hermione will undergo the procedure as well."

Draco sighed. "But she will be in hospital for a long time?"

"At least six months, but why do you care, Draco?"

Draco said nothing.

Bellatrix's capacity for hate and evil was like none other, and Draco had known this ever since he was a child. He had heard what seemed like horror stories from his mother about Aunt Bella. The name Bellatrix was almost like a threat...like telling a child the bogeyman was under the bed... It was not until Draco was perhaps fourteen that he had first met his mother's sister, and everything his mother had told him about her had been true. The woman was insane with evil and fantasies of power...

Draco's mind wandered in the silence after Millie's explanation about Hermione's condition. He realized that if Millie knew that he had access to the Manor, Hermione most likely knew as well. The oath was almost fulfilled, only he had to say so and terminate the oath with his very word. Surely Hermione would urge him to finalize the oath, free her, and have him out of her life.

It was almost painful to think that now that he was home, he could not even tease Hermione Granger...Potter was gone and Weasley was apparently out of the picture...and only Granger remained, and now...

No... he had to finish it. He could let himself become attached to Hermione Granger; he had to let the infatuation die.

Is it really just infatuation?

Not now...

If I win, I WILL have her.

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

"Draco?"

He blinked, realizing that Millie had leaned forward and her hand was brushing his knee.

"Are you alright?"

"I am fine."

"Have you seen a Mediwizard recently?" Millie asked seriously, her face suddenly expressing concern.

"No, why should I?"

Millie slid back into her seat, eyeing Draco speculatively. She would not tell Draco that Hermione had told her about his new 'attachment' only the day before, and Millie knew that Hermione had seemed torn when it had slipped out in conversation. Surely when the week started again, Millie would do some research on what Hermione had called the 'Arm of Vulcan,' but she would not mention her knowledge of its existence to Draco now.

Millie was troubled enough with the idea of Hermione's growing affection for Draco. 'Affection,' perhaps was not the correct choice of words, for Hermione's opinion about Draco Malfoy seemed to change with her moods, defending him at one point and then cursing his name at another. Millie could sympathize. But Hermione's thoughts about Draco Malfoy were not like poor Pansy's blind love and obsession; Hermione was obviously battling with her emotions toward the pale man sitting across the way from Millie, and Millie could see why. As much as Draco Malfoy was still the Draco Malfoy she remembered, he was also something totally alien, such that it did not seem that Draco Malfoy really existed in the form she saw at that very moment. Perhaps it was the shock of knowing that he was alive and now back in Britain, but Millie was not the only person who had been surprised by the fact that he had survived somehow after the War when so many had thought him one of the many victims of Voldemort's madness. But there he sat, still haughty, still handsome, still irritating, and still somehow, alive.

"It's no matter, really," Millie answered quickly noting Draco's suspicious gaze. "You've been talking to a Mediwitch, and even I have my concerns for others."

Draco scoffed. "Who would have thought it...but now that I think about it, you were the only one capable in our House to mend my nose when I broke it, or heal my ribs after a rough Quidditch game. I tell you, Pomfrey liked to see me suffer..."

Millie smiled. Draco had always been the drama queen when it came to being injured...whether it was a scratch or a broken nose...Draco had always played it so that he was the centre of attention... Those had been halcyon days compared to the many dark days that had come afterwards. Conversation moved and wended until Millie noticed that the light through the parlour windows had dramatically changed and she could hear Neville moving about the study across the hall.

All that could be said had been said, and Millie found that she was not as angry with Draco Malfoy as she first thought. He had changed so much and yet at the same time, so little. All she knew was that Hermione Granger was somehow the hinge to everything that had brought Draco Malfoy back to Britain, and Millie was still a bit wary. No threats seemed to matter, and no amount of begging on her part would somehow make Draco Malfoy's eyes seem to brighten at the mention of her friend's name. It would be ridiculous to say that Draco Malfoy was in love when Millie knew that the man had never really ever loved in his life, but it was certain that Draco Malfoy harboured emotions for her friend, but whether it was something resembling love or mere obsession, Millie did not know.

And when Millie watched Draco Malfoy walk down the path to the gate, her heart was aching with worry.

"If he hurts her, he will have to deal with not only us, but an army of others who would not hesitate to bring him low," a warm voice whispered in Millie's ear as she shut the front door.

Millie turned slowly and fell into her husband's arms, which enveloped her in a warmth that she had missed all the while she had been in the same room with Draco Malfoy. Her husband's reassurances wafted over her like a warm flow of love and peace, and Millie knew that even though she and Neville had had to face so much darkness and evil in their lives, she would not change it if it meant not having Neville to hold her in his arms...