Haunted

Draco had taken to watching the witch again. With the information about the leak in the Ministry everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off and leaving him and Granger alone most of the time. They did pretty well…ignoring each other. He knew she didn’t trust him, having overheard her conversation with the Weaslette. And that was fine by him; he didn’t give a great dragon dung what she thought. Well, at least that’s what he told himself.

Someone would always come to help make meals at first but Draco was told sternly by Mrs. Weasley that it was now his job since she was too busy dealing with other things to be making them sandwiches. He’d caught Granger trying to make them but she’d given up when he’d told her she was trying to put ketchup on a ham and ham sandwich (she’d lost the cheese which was sitting to the left of her elbow). Finally she’d thrown the bottle at him which missed by four feet and splattered against the wall. Grasping her stick again she’d made her way out the door and into the back yard.

He’d looked out there before, nothing but a wide, empty yard that he could tell had once been resplendent, probably the main stage for large pureblood galas. Granger had been spending more and more time out there as the weather grew warmer, swinging that stick around and getting lost.

Draco spent most of his time shut up in his room or the library. He’d taken to reading anything he could get his hands on, an extraordinary amount of the books held in the headquarters’ library were about Dark magic. He had wondered why for a second before remembering what house they were in. He supposed it was now Potter’s, but it would always be the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He snorted at the title. Ancient, maybe. Noble? He doubted many if any who had dwelled in this household could be considered noble.

He’d also explored much of the house. A large curtain in the front hall against the wall had bidden to his curiosity and he’d peeked around it. The screaming filled the house and he’d jumped so hard he’d nearly toppled out of his chair before Mrs. Weasley, who had thankfully come to make dinner, had finally shut up the screams of ”Half-blood traitors! Filthy, dirty, stinking Mudbloods! Tarnishing my house, my house! Befouling-!”. She’d told him it was the portrait of Walburga Black, Sirius and Regulus’ mother and she was not especially happy about the arrangements in ‘her’ house. He’d then found the large tapestry with the Black Family Tree on it and had fingered the woven golden letters of his own name. He saw the scorch marks of others and pieced a couple together, but most he didn’t know. His parents had never told him much about his ancestry; simply that he was a pureblood of the most prominent line and to be proud. The only people he knew were his Aunt Bella and Uncle Rodolphus. He’d once met his Aunt Andromeda by accident while he and his mother were in Diagon Alley when he was young but she had told him to forget about her and to never mention her again.

Upon further exploration he found a lot of rat droppings and skeletons of the small creatures amidst pages of the Daily Prophet from his fifth year in a room on the fifth floor. He wondered vaguely why but did not question, simply put that room under a list of ones he had no interest in revisiting. In fact, the only place in the entire house he went back to, apart from his bedroom and the basement kitchen, was the library.

Madam Pomfrey had insisted in doing his “therapy” in the drawing room, however, since there was more room there. She hadn’t come this week, busy mending up Aurors who had taken off after Dolohov. He sneered at their failed attempts. Dolohov was tricky, certainly, but not the brightest bulb. All that was required was strategic planning that would outsmart the dim bastard.

For Draco, the days dragged on. He watched as May turned to June, bringing sticky heat and Mrs. Weasley’s cool lemonade. He felt useless, bored. There was nothing to do, nothing he was allowed to do. His life had become a meaningless existence as he watched others around him fighting for a cause they believed in. He wondered what that would be like, to feel so passionately about something that you were willing to die for it. He’d sacrificed things for his mother but had regretted it, finding that her heart was as cold and ruthless as the rest of them. She was where she belonged, in the ground, and he awaited the day that his father would join her.

He’d stopped screwing with Granger and had simply sat back and watched her carry on. She worked around the house doing what she could, which wasn’t much, and attended the meetings, which he was not allowed to do. When people were around she was bright and cheery, smiling and laughing and making inputs. She helped with cooking while others assisted her, used that cane thing and acted, well, normal. But when they left she was quiet, brooding. Not once he’d caught her in the library, sitting in the window sill with a book in her arms and her face towards the sun. He wondered if she could see the difference in light and that was why she did it.

Other times she would disappear for hours on end outside. He knew there was a great pond in the back having gone out there once and he figured that was where she went, the shade beneath a large willow the only cool place anymore.

Starved for company as no one had shown their faces in three days, Draco tried to strike up conversation over dinner one day in mid-June.

“So, er…did you go to the pond today?”

Granger didn’t even look up from her plate. Blowing his bangs out of his eyes, he tried again.

“Know of any cooling spells we can put on the house?”

Again, silence.

“Look, Granger, we’re stuck here together most of the time. Why don’t we just-,”

“Just what, exactly? Become friends? Get all buddy-buddy so I can fill you up with all the Order’s secrets so you can take them back to your Death Eater pals? Forget it, Malfoy. If you’re bored, talk to the wall, it will give you better conversation than I intend to. You may have fooled everyone else, but I know what you’re up to. I thanked you for saving my life but I don’t owe you anything. You had your second chance and you threw it away. You don’t get three in my book.”

Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek to quell his retort. Fine, she didn’t trust him. Like he bloody cared. He hated her sick know-it-all face, her bushy hair and her crappy attitude.

Her sandwich mostly untouched she rose. “Thank you for dinner,” she said monotonously as she did every night and she stumbled back up to her room. She didn’t use the cane thing when they were alone (except when she went outside) and he wasn’t sure why.

In a burst of pent up frustration Draco chucked his plate across the room and cursed his stupid, useless legs. If it weren’t for them he’d be up, doing something other than sharing a house with a sullen, depressing twit. Of all people, why did it have to be her?

Flicking his wrist at the remnants of his dinner plastered on the wall, he cleaned it up and took his own turn outside. The cool night air felt good against his skin and he contemplated what his life was going to be like form now on.

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

Hermione was sulking in her room the day after Malfoy’s lame attempt at conversation when a knock came at her door.

“Come in,” she bade.

“Hello, dear. How are you doing?”

“Mrs. Weasley! I’m fine, come in, come in. It’s nice to, well, if not see you, then hear your voice,” she joked with a smile.

“Yes, well,” Mrs. Weasley said, feeling uncomfortable she knew. She was the only one who did not find her jokes humorous or at least ice breaking. She was tired of the eggshell walk, so if she joked about it people would treat her more normally.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” she said, sitting at the edge of Hermione’s bed.

“Of course! Anything I can do to help out.”

“Well, see, with all the raids Poppy has her hands tied and I’ve been taking over for Arthur’s office while he’s out with the Aurors so I’ve been busy myself…the thing is, Draco needs to keep up the work on his legs and I’m afraid it’s rather hard for him to do it himself. Could you try to work with them? Just a little every day, it doesn’t have to be much. We’ve been slacking and I hope it hasn’t done too much damage. I know he can be a handful, but he’s in as much pain as you are.”

Hermione doubted that highly, she wasn’t entirely sure Malfoy could feel at all, but she said nothing on that particular subject. She wished Mrs. Weasley hadn’t put this on her, knew she could back out if she wanted to but she wouldn’t let herself. If this was the only way she could contribute, she would do it. She honestly didn’t really care if Malfoy ever walked again, but it would give the two women one less thing to worry about.

“Of course, Mrs. Weasley. If you could show me what to do I would be more than happy to help out.” Then again, if he did re-learn to walk, he would be out of her hair for good, there would be no reason for him to hang around. With a renewed passion, she followed Mrs. Weasley down to the drawing room, walking stick in hand because she knew it made her happy to see it put to use.

“Good morning, Draco dear. How are we feeling?” Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully once they entered the room. She could feel his presence like a dark shadow in her black world.

“Just swell,” he muttered.

“Come on over here, Hermione, that’s right, go ahead and take a seat here,” Mrs. Weasley directed her to a chair and she sank slowly onto it, one hand on the seat to judge where she could put her weight.

“Now Draco, Hermione here has agreed to help you with your exercises. Together you can decide on a time to do it for an hour, if you can, everyday.”

Though he said nothing, Hermione could feel his rage and it mirrored her own.

“Alright. Hermione I’m going to show you where to put your hands and Draco you can help by directing her. We’ll get it eventually.”

It took a long time in which Malfoy bitched and Hermione grew increasingly flustered but she finally had a small routine down. The placement of her hands was the difficult part as she had to rub them up and down his legs to find where Mrs. Weasley had shown her and it was incredibly embarrassing when she had been trying to find the muscle on his inner thigh Mrs. Weasley had shown her and he muttered, “Watch where you put those hands, Granger.” She’d blushed a deep crimson and had jerked her hands away, allowing Mrs. Weasley to show her again.

The exercises were not difficult but she could feel his legs protesting. The joints were stiff where he hadn’t used them and the muscles were beginning to waste away. She couldn’t tell if he was trying or not but when he was supposed to press his heel into her hand, nothing happened. She couldn’t feel his toes wriggling when he was told to do it either and when she let go of them, his legs dropped heavily, dead weights. She doubted if they would ever work again. But now she was determined to make them work. She was going to put everything she had into making him walk so he could get out of her life once and for all.

After the “lesson” Molly threw together a quick lunch and left, saying she probably wouldn’t see them until the weekend. The fact that it was Monday depressed Hermione. She wondered then whether she would see anyone at all. Well, not see, but it was nice to hear their voices. They’d all gotten so close in the search for Horcruxes, she couldn’t stand to be away from the boys like this. They never spent more than a day, maybe, away from each other. They were like glue, moving from place to place. It was true she had gone weeks without seeing Ginny, or anyone else for that matter, and it had been years since she’d seen her parents, but not the boys. Harry and Ron were the reason she woke up every morning. To have them struggling through this without her help was almost more than she could bear. She had tried every spell she could think of to make her eyes work again, but to no avail. She knew before even attempting it that Madam Pomfrey knew much more powerful healing spells and if she couldn’t do it, no one could. According to Ron, the nurse even brought in some top Healers to look her over while she’d been sedated and they had done their best. No one could figure out why her eyesight was gone. Because like Ron said, it wasn’t damaged, it was gone. Like someone had just crept in in the middle of the night and grabbed her eyeballs and ripped the out. Hermione didn’t know why the curse hadn’t just taken them as well.

This new find by Lavender that two Unspeakables were working with the Death Eaters had everyone caught up. Croaker had been caught and arrested; he was now sitting in Azkaban awaiting his sentence and according to Arthur, not speaking a word. No one could get out of him what he had told Dolohov. Moody was supposed to go in on Wednesday and drug him with Veritaserum and if that didn’t work, use Legilimency. But Borcharay and Dolohov had escaped and gone underground. Ron and Harry were out searching for him as well as Bill and Lupin.

Everyone else was busy. Arthur was working with Kingsley (the new Minister) and several Aurors to weed through the Unspeakable staff, trying to find out if anyone else was working as a double agent. They’d already found one Imperiused witch and expected to find a few more. After the Unspeakables, they intended to go through the rest of the Ministry (for the fourteenth time) as two had already fled. Security was being tightened and Percy had his hands full trying to fill in for Kingsley.

Charlie was busy training dragons for combat use and from what she had heard, was doing fairly well. Hagrid and Madame Maxime could be found in various parts of the country working on recruiting the giants and teaching Grawp to speak English along the way. Hermione had spoken with him several times and he was now speaking full sentences and responding to questions, although with some highly extreme answers at times.

Neville had been taken on by Professor Sprout as her assistant and during the summer months they worked on finding new plants and creating new hybrids in the Hogwarts greenhouses. During the school year Neville trained beneath her and someday (soon, according to Sprout because her “old bones can’t take much more”) Neville would become a Professor.

Dean and Seamus had teamed up and become their best spies. They’d rooted out the Carrows and their personal Muggle torturing den. They’d followed a Ministry employee straight into a Death Eater meeting and had brought the Order right down upon them, not to mention the information they’d dug up on Snape. Apparently he was immersed deep with the Death Eaters and Voldemort now trusted him more than anyone. Lupin still swore up and down that he was on their side and Hermione tended to believe him, but after what Harry had seen they were part of the few who did. Hermione figured if Dumbledor trusted him, there was no reason they shouldn’t. It was fishy that he had not reported back to them since that fateful night, but he had brought Malfoy in an attempt to save the boy, that had to account for something. He obviously had some sort of soul.

The twins were working diligently on their line of defensive material which had grown considerably. They had to be careful who they were selling it to now to make sure no Death Eaters got a hold of their craft. Their shop was busy and they were open six days a week, taking Sunday for the normal family brunch. Not to say it always happened, but they tried to get as many people together for it as possible.

Lavender had gone to following Death Eaters since they had found her rather useful skill of seeing and not being seen. She was quite good and Hermione found she forgave the witch for her disturbing behavior in their sixth year.

Hermione and Ron had tried their own relationship the summer after their sixth year, really, they had. But it hadn’t worked. They didn’t mesh like they had hoped and their first kiss had been a disaster. They laughed about it now but there had been a few tense months when they had worried over whether their friendship would recover. It did (with a little help from Harry) and the three of them were closer than ever.

Harry and Ginny had finally gotten back together after the fiery redhead had screamed at him for being a dolt over dinner and leapt across the table to kiss him. Hermione had received a plate full of food in her lap as Harry’s chair fell to the floor with a clatter and the two had snogged unceremoniously. There had been screams and shouts and laughter and wolf whistles and tears (Mrs. Weasley). Hermione had been proud of the bold Weasley and knew it had done Harry an enormous good. They’d found a Horcurx soon after that incident.

Now Hermione was reduced to sitting around doing nothing and being Draco Malfoy’s physical therapist for one hour every day. She tried to put herself to use, keeping the headquarters as clean as a blind person could. It wasn’t easy, she didn’t know where the messy spots were on the table or if she had missed a part, but she figured it was better than nothing. She worked on using the walking stick outdoors. It was hard and she had gotten herself lost several times but she had finally found the pond they spoken about but no one had ever been out to. It had been quite a shock to hear a splash! when her cane had hit the water’s edge. But she’d found a very long dock and was glad she had her cane because otherwise she might have just toppled right off the edge of it.

She longed to go swimming, to feel the cool water against her skin as the days turned muggy and hot. She’d found a spot where the pounding of the sun was aloof and figured it was in the shade of some tree. She’d found the trunk of said tree, the rough bark scratchy against her back when she sat against it. She would stay there for what felt like hours as it was the coolest and quietest place she could find. But there was always the sound of the water, the song of the birds, the movement of animals around her to keep her from feeling so alone. But she was. She was the only person she knew in the wizarding community who was blind. There was no one to share her pain and although Harry had been adamant about her talking to him about it, she was on her own.

The afternoon found her by the pond again, the sun beating down on her unbearably. She hated the heat; she lived in England for a reason! She wanted nothing more than to take a dip in the pond. And why not? If she stayed close to the dock, what was the problem? She could swim well enough, she wouldn’t win any medals but she was confident in her abilities. There was nothing wrong with her body, just her eyes. Resolved, excited and just a little nervous, she made her way slowly to the edge of the dock. She sat down and scooted forward until her legs dangled off. Her toes just barely scraped the surface of the cool water and Hermione grinned. Peeling off her shirt, she stood and divested herself of her shoes, socks and shorts. Making sure they were all in a reachable pile with her stick, she slowly lowered herself into the cool water, reveling in the feel of it against her burning skin. She kept a hold on the dock leg and dipped herself beneath the surface, blowing air out through her nose. When she rose to the surface she was smiling. She didn’t dare go more than a few strokes away, always making sure she could reach the dock. When her arms grew tired she pulled herself up and let the sun dry her. Trying to relax, she thought about how she could make Malfoy walk again.

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

Draco swallowed thickly. She was just laying there, mostly naked in a white bra and lilac panties which were mostly see-through after she pulled herself out of the water. He’d come outside for a little respite of the dull monotony of the house when he’d seen her go in. He’d thought her mad but had stood by and realized she’d rarely let go of the dock and when she did, she went right back to it. His heart had skipped a beat when she’d started taking off her clothes. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be stuck in a house alone with her, now he had to think of the way she looked with very little clothes on. She had a thin waist, one which had been defined from the field work and practice she’d done with Potter and Weasley. He’d seen the grueling training they’d put themselves through when he was here last time and he doubted she’d let them slack one bit. Now it was obvious she’d dropped a good amount of weight. Her skin was as pale as her face and she was obviously malnourished. If he didn’t get her to eat more at meals Mrs. Weasley was going to cook him up for the next Sunday brunch.

The weight loss, unfortunately, did not diminish from her attractive form. She was nicely sculpted, petite and perfectly proportioned. His mouth had run dry at the sight and now he was having a problem with an excess of saliva. He had to keep reminding himself that this was Granger, bushy-haired, buck toothed, bookworm, annoying Granger. Not as though it did any good.

When she finally sat up he threw his chair in reverse so she didn’t catch him watching her until he remembered that she couldn’t see him anyways. But he knew she had that uncanny ability to sense his presence as she’d done it on more than one occasion.

Once safely ensconced within the stifling kitchen, he set to work preparing dinner. He’d hardly gotten started on the sandwiches before she walked in, cane in hand.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked in a too-nice voice.

“Er, sandwiches,” he answered. It was always sandwiches. It was the only thing Mrs. Weasley had shown him how to make.

“Malfoy…do you know how to make anything else?” she asked as if he had spoken his thoughts out loud.

“What does it matter to you? It’s what I’m making. I don’t see you in here slaving away. If you have a problem with it, you make dinner!”

“I would if I could see you insensitive prat!”

The silence hung heavy in the hot air. Finally, she sighed.

“Look, let’s just stop fighting. We’re stuck here; let’s just figure out something else. If you can be my eyes, I’ll tell you how to make other things. Alright?”

Draco contemplated for a minute. Why the fuck had she decided to be nice all the sudden? When he’d tried yesterday she’d thrown his betrayal in his face and admitted that she didn’t trust him, accused him of trying to swindle information out of them for the other side. And now, one day later, she wanted to work together? What had changed?

“Alright.”

Feeling her way around the counter she told him what to get out and they started on what she dubbed as a “simple” dinner. Simple, my arse! he thought as he dumped hard noodles into a pot of boiling water. Who knew noodles came hard? And then he had to press a knife into her hand and a tomato into the other, watching her closely so she didn’t chop off her fingers. She worked slowly, explaining how big to make the pieces and the easiest way to slice it. Then she handed it to him and began shredding lettuce, something she said she could do without looking.

When they finally finished, both a little frustrated and harried, they sat to a full course meal, something like what Mrs. Weasley would make. They had “angel hair” (what a ridiculous name!) pasta with a cream sauce and peas, a salad and garlic bread. Draco twirled pasta onto his fork and shoved it in his mouth, his eyes rolling in delight.

“This is delicious!”

Granger smiled. “My mum taught me how to make it ages ago. It makes me think of her.”

“ Your mother? But I thought-,”

“What? That because she’s a Muggle she can’t produce something like this?”

Draco didn’t say anything as that was exactly what he was thinking but hearing the words come out of her mouth made him realize how prejudiced it sounded.

“I’ll let you know that Muggles are fully capable of enjoying all the pleasure of life with their own two hands! Just because they can’t do magic does not mean they don’t think like you and I! Scratch that, I wouldn’t want to insult any of them by saying they think like you. Thankfully, all the Muggles I know are not nearly as bigoted as you!”

She slammed down her fork and fled the room, leaving her metal walking stick behind. Draco cursed under his breath.

So much for a step forward.

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A/N: Sorry for the long update! Trying to keep up. Hope it’s worth the wait.

XOXO

RynStar15