Redemption

A/N: So Sorry for the ridiculously long wait between updates. Thank you to all that continue to read and support the story; especially the reviewers you know who you are!

Draco’s Regret

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The ransom note arrived a scant few hours after Hermione’s departure and was delivered directly to Draco who promptly, angrily, discarded the unopened missive amongst his work correspondences which were strewn over his disheveled desk; a feat he had accomplished in his drunken rage. Throwing his still full tumbler of Scotch into the fire, flaring the fire within the hearth; Draco stormed out of his office, Scotch in hand, in search of a room that wouldn’t remind him of the fickle bitch that broke his heart.


Two days later Draco was hunched within the guest fireplace, as his was still littered with glass, attempting to floo call Hermione as he couldn’t Apparate directly to her flat. Apparently the harridan had blocked him from flooing as well. ‘Fine, if she can’t face me I hardly have an obligation to indulge her letters’ Draco thought bitterly as he stood up; not bothering to swipe the residue of ash that clung to his wrinkled trousers and taking a generous swig directly out of the whiskey bottle.


“Honestly Draco I understand you were fond of the girl but you’re becoming a slovenly drunk,” Lucius chided harshly as he walked into the foyer; eyeing Draco with disgust as he took a deliberately long swig of alcohol directly from the bottle in response to his father’s ill-chosen, cruel words.


“Fond of the girl,” Draco hollowly echoed his father’s earlier words turning to look at the man who helped ruin his relationship. “Fond of the girl!” he repeated in an angry shout looking his father dead in the eyes, he deliberately annunciated his words in a slow, menacing growl, “I’m not fond of the girl father; I’m fucking in love with her!” punctuating his point by violently slamming his drink on the end table that usually held the floo powder.


Lucius face seemed to freeze in place in response to this proclamation which came as a genuine surprise. ‘How did they or rather his son fall in love?’ Lucius thought; truly perplexed as they seemed to barely tolerate one another. As a grimace began to mare Lucius’ countenance Draco began to prepare himself to deal with his father’s scorn. Although the harshly muttered, “fuck” that fell from Lucius’ lips was expected Draco was shocked by the heartfelt whispered, “I had no idea. If I’d known I never would have…” “I never should have…” Lucius murmured by way of apology.


In the stifling silence that followed the emotional outburst between father and son a tawny owl flew directly to Draco and deposited a weighty envelope which was covered by Hermione’s elegant, neat script before settling himself on the nearby end table to preen his feathers while he waited for the man’s reply.


Pouring himself a drink Draco opened the missive with trembling hands which showcased his overwrought state of mind. Upon discovering what lay inside he dropped his glass which shattered upon impact with the wood floor sending liquid and glass indiscriminately over the polished surface and Draco’s right pant leg. Draco’s body instantly filled with dread and his grip grew numb even as it tightened on the photograph. Hermione screaming and writhing under the Cruciatus Curse near a puddle of her own sick depicted in all the glorious, horrific detail indicative of Wizarding photography. Draco saw red as he noticed the angry, messy scrawl which covered the photograph, “She suffers for your silence.”