Triumvirate

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the songs included in this fanfic nor do I make money off them. These stories are for entertainment only

~
I need a hero
I'm holding out for at hero 'till the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

I need a Hero - Bonnie Tyler
~

Hermione woke to the warm scent of burning logs and lavender. Her stomach rumbled in want and she blinked at the grayish light filtering across the room. Another stormy evening. She was starting to hate the mountains.

Suddenly Maddy popped in, with a tea tray and bowl of thick stew. She greeted Hermione with a smile and moved to get her settled for her meal.

“Your color is looking much better” Maddy said. She was a chatty little thing, “I’ve drawn you a nice bath if you feel up to it”.

Hermione nodded gratefully. Maddy folded her wizened hands over her middle and promptly sat down in the bedside chair. “Tuck in then”.

Hermione ate slowly, savoring the rich stew. In her misadventures with the Italians, she’d not had much time for proper meals. Between Draco and Maddy, demanding she eat several small meals throughout the day, she felt more human.

When she had eaten her fill, she set the spoon down and smiled. ‘Thank you Maddy, it was delicious”

The house elf beamed.

Hermione asked the question then, “How long will it take to regain my strength?”

Maddy shook her head sadly, “The damage is great miss, Maddy thinks that the elixir is the best way to revive the damaged areas. But master Draco forbids it…for now”.

“Elixir?”

“Yes miss. Given by death eaters to others who have suffered the use of the Cruciatus.”

Hermione went cold, “Why would they do that?” Why would he have it? Why would he not give it?

Maddy clucked her tongue and shook her little head, “Those ones, they aren’t quite normal. Pain feeds them you see, even the pain of people they love.”

Maddy said no more on the subject, becoming guarded and helped Hermione to the bath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a week since her ‘rescue’. A week since she had written her missive to Harry. As yet, she had heard nothing, which only served to solidify her doubt that Draco was telling the truth.

She saw very little of him. Whatever he was up to, he seemed very busy. Always talking with the other two people in the house. She could hear low murmurs from across the hall before the three would rush off in different directions. This left Hermione alone with Maddy, who despite Hermione’s best efforts to see it, showed no signs of unhappiness or abuse.

It seemed that Maddy was free to come and go as she pleased. She was free. She chose to stay out of loyalty to Draco for having saved her.

Hermione’s mind wandered back to poor Dobby and Lucius.

Lucius had been a cruel man, a heartless man. And Draco had been poised to follow in his footsteps. A muggle born hating, pure blood bigot.

Still, there were times when, if she was honest with herself, he seemed unhappy. Like that the Quidditch world cup, and when he realized that his friends were not friends at all. Few of his boyhood smiles had been truly genuine, ever reaching his eyes.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Draco was, for all intent and purposes, the enemy. She had to remember that and be ready for when his attack came.

But despite the tension between them, he had yet to be anything other than a reluctant host. He came each evening to inquire how she felt, if her needs were being bet. Was there anything she needed or wanted?

Maddy helped her hobble through the halls a few times a day as she tried to force her damaged nerves to work once more. She made some small progress and when she became too tired or pained, the elf would gently levitate her back to her room or to a chaise in Draco’s study.

Hermione was feeling quite proud of herself that she had managed to bathe herself completely tonight. Brushing her hair was another matter entirely. She had tried but such a simple task left her weak and trembling. She sat with the brush in her lap, fighting tears of irritation at herself.

This was how Draco found her. Looking dejected on his chaise. Her long hair in wild tangles around her shoulders.

“Hermione?” he asked as he opened the door to step inside.

She sniffed lightly and looked towards the fire.

He crossed the room quickly to kneel beside her, “Are you injured? Ill?” he demanded.

She shook her head, fingers plucking at the bristles of the brush.

He looked at the brush and then her head.

Saying nothing, he took the brush from her hands and moved behind her to gently work the knots loose.

“What are you doing in here looking like the brush has turned the world against you?”

She shrugged.

Draco sighed, “You’ve been overdoing” he accused softly, “Where is Maddy?”

Hermione looked up at him, “Please don’t be angry with her, don’t punish her. I suppose I have been difficult for her.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, “What are you talking about? I would never punish Maddy”

She shifted ever so slightly as he drew the brush under her hair at her nape, “But… I thought…”

He hmpfed softly but continued to pull the brush through her thick locks with sure, even, gentle strokes.

She was nearly lulled by the comforting feeling. “You do that very well” she said softly.

Draco allowed himself a sad unseen smile over her head, “When I was a boy… my mother would do this for me. It always made me feel loved.”

She heard the wistful tone in his voice. The sorrow.

“I’m sorry” she said quietly, “She was an amazing woman”

Draco dropped the brush gently in her lap, “She was” he agreed.

He turned to pour himself a firewhiskey, lifting a glass he silently offered her some. She shook her head.

“So I was correct when I assumed you’d been overdoing” he said then.

She had the grace to flush and look away. “Perhaps just a little. I hate being an invalid.”

He shrugged and tossed back his drink.

When he swallowed, relishing the burn, she watched him closely.

He was different from the boy she’d known. All hard planes and muscle, quiet, dignified, but the brash lustrous arrogance of his youth was gone. He turned to find her gaze on him. He held it for a moment and then crossed the room to sit at his leather chair behind his mahogany desk.

“Penny for your thoughts”

She blinked, brought back from her musings by his words, “Sorry. Just thinking.”

He inclined his head, “Of course you were. I was asking for you to share them.” He noticed the slight look of discomfort that crossed her features. ‘Go on’ he mentally urged her.

“If you are the third Captain that would make you Harry’s sword arm”

He sorted through paperwork, “That it would” he agreed.

“Why hasn’t he told us about you?”

“He has his reasons”

“But we are his captains! We should know these sorts of things don’t you think? I mean you knew about Ron and myself. Its only fair”

“The entire wizarding world knows of you and the weasel, it’s why you are bloody targeted so often” he replied calmly, “And in case you haven’t noticed. Life isn’t fair. Not in the least. Again, he has his reasons.”

She bit her lip for a moment, “You never sent my message”

His brow rose, even as a tap at the window drew his notice. He turned and undid the catch, letting the large black owl hop into the dry, warm room. “Hello Finn” he murmured to the wet and rumpled bird. He reached to untie the parchments from the bird’s leg.

Finn peeped and hopped to the side, his sharp beak snapping at the long fingers. Draco steadied him and leaned closer, seeing a damaged wing. “Old man!” he said softly, “Who’s hurt you?”

Hermione watched as he gathered the large, angry owl closer, his voice calming the wounded creature. His lips moved and Finn fluttered his wing, before chortling happily. “All set. Maddy!”

The elf popped in at once, “master Draco.”

“Take Finn to your room tonight, he had a rough journey.”

Then owl and elf were gone.

Draco unrolled the parchments, scanning one quickly before he tossed the other to Hermione.

“What’s this?” she asked, tugging the roll open.

“Answer to your message I never sent” he replied.

Hermione flushed red as fire and scanned the missive. It seemed that Harry would be joining them tomorrow night via floo call. She swallowed as the full meaning of his words hit her. Malfoy hadn’t been lying?

She heard the soft clink of crystal and dared to look up. He was pouring himself another drink. “Erm….Malfoy?”

He turned, “Yes?”

She gestured to the decanter, “Could I trouble you for one?”

He chuckled as he poured another, “Not at all”