Sins of the Father

A/N: at bottom


*

Things were changing at the Burrow. The weather outside was progressively getting colder as November neared, and yet the atmosphere inside the creaking house couldn’t be warmer. Hermione, after her talk with Remus, had decidedly changed. She left her room now, talking and laughing with everyone that came into contact with her. Molly was filling her up with all kinds of food, finally being able to admonish her for her year of “near starvation”. She had gained back some weight in the past week, her figure beginning to return to her.

All and all, Harry and Ron felt like they were getting their old Hermione back. Her good mood was infectious and everyone who came through the Burrow was more then happy to share her good mood.

“I don’t know what you did, Remus,” Molly said one night, clasping her hand on his shoulder as they watched the Trio laughing and joking around. “But thank you for giving us back our Hermione.”

Remus smiled and opened his mouth to say something when suddenly there was a loud clap and Draco fell onto the ground at the Trio’s feet, bloody and barely conscious. Hermione jumped up and ran to his side as Harry started screaming at Remus to set up the wards around the Burrow. Remus began firing off the defensive spells that would keep the Burrow safe, as Ron and Harry joined them. Soon Molly had joined Hermione on the floor, checking over Draco, as Tonks and the twins ran downstairs to help strengthen the spells around the Burrow. When it seemed that the Burrow was bursting to the seams with protective magic, they all turned back to look at Molly and Hermione leaning over Draco.
Molly had somehow managed to stabilize him, Hermione propping his head up with two pillows as the older woman ran her wand over Draco. She gave a huff and looked at him.

“I’m going to have to take your shirt off, Mr. Malfoy. Trust me when I say this is necessary.” Molly began to unbutton his shirt, trying to cause as little pain as possible. His white shirt was almost completely splattered in blood, the fabric soaked through with the dark liquid. It clung to his wounds and, with a wet sucking noise, was pulled from his wounds. He winced as it pulled off some skin around his jagged cuts, then took a deep breath when his chest was completely bare.

Deep cuts criss-crossed his body, dark purple bruising marring his pale, perfect alabaster skin. There was severe discoloration around his ribs and Hermione winced as Molly’s wand tried to close up his wounds. Many of them where able to be healed, but a few of the deeper ones only shallowly closed up, still leaving little slashes of red on his body.

“Is there any other part of you that is still hurting, Mr. Malfoy?” Molly asked, her voice calm and soothing.

“Everything.” He managed to groan out through his cracked lips. Without being told, Hermione stood and raced to the kitchen, retrieving a glass of cold water, a pain potion, and a sleepless draught potion. She walked back to the living room more slowly, all eyes on her movements. She slowly sunk down next to Draco’s head and, tipping his head up even further, poured the refreshing liquid down his throat.

“Here, this will help,” she whispered after helping him drink half the glass. She poured the pain potion down his throat, and then made him drink the rest of the water. She sat the other potion down by his body and ran the back of her arm across her forehead, wiping off the sweat that had collected there.

The others in the room were watching the tenderness that Hermione was showing Draco with varying degrees of interest. Most of them didn’t care how she was interacting with him, but Remus and Ron were taking a particular interest in the interaction. Remus wondered how this strange friendship with Draco would affect her recovery, while Ron’s motives were more selfish. He felt jealousy run through his body, his anger not taking over him but definitely amplifying the possessiveness he was feeling. He had waited a year, a whole year, for Hermione to get better so that he could finally pursue the relationship they were destined to have. And now, out of no where, Draco was going to be the one she chose?

Well, he’d be damned if he let that happen.

He mumbled something about being tired and took off, Hermione not even noticing when he left; as she was too busy taking care off Draco. Harry watched his departure and sighed, knowing that a mess was on the horizon.

“What’s the other one for?”

“It’s a sleepless draught potion. We should probably get him upstairs so he can get some rest,” Hermione said to Molly, still looking at Draco’s sweating face. He fluttered his eyes open when he heard that and groaned.

“No. Have to . . . tell Potter,” Harry looked at everyone and then walked over to Draco. He looked down at him.

“Yes? What do you need to tell me?”

Draco opened his eyes and smiled faintly. “I think . . . I think they know.” Everyone took a collective breath, panic running through Hermione’s eyes.

“How would they? I mean, you’ve kept it a secret, right?” George asked, looking from Harry to Draco. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, if the Dark Lord wants to know something he’ll figure it out.” He went to move but one of the shallow wounds re-opened, bleeding fresh, red blood. Molly bent to run her wand over the wound again and sighed.

“I don’t care what you say, Mr. Malfoy. Up to bed with you.” Draco closed his eyes and groaned. He couldn’t take the way the Weasley Mother Hen was clucking over him, but he knew he needed to do what they said. He was worn out and even though the pain potion Hermione had given him helped, it wasn’t enough.

Hermione. He smiled to himself, thinking about how cute and compassionate she had looked, fussing over him. Her eyes had widened in concern when he had Apparated into the Burrow and she was the first one to notice something was wrong. She had given him medicine and tried to actually stop the pain when all the Older Weaselette had done was wave her wand, which didn’t even help considering that he had opened back up.

Then all of a sudden he was Levitating.

He groaned. He hated Levitating. Flying, he was fine with. When he was on a broom, he was in control and could manipulate where he was going. How did he know that someone wasn’t going to ram his head into a door? Well, he didn’t and that freaked him out.

Then he heard Hermione barking out orders to be careful with him as the Twins giggled and sneered at him, making comments about him being “fragile cargo” and that his “precious body” might be damaged if they dropped him.

Fucking insolent idiots. He had done more for their side then they ever had and this is how they repaid him?

Well what did he expect from the Weasel family?

Finally, he was dumped on what he recognized as his bed when he stayed there and sighed. It felt good to be laying on something soft. For however poor the Weasels were, at least they managed to get one thing right. The beds here were nice. He felt everyone trickle out of his room, sighing loudly when the door shut behind him.

“Thank Merlin.”

“Welcome back to the living,” he opened an eye to see Hermione smiling at him from where she sat at his bedside. “We’re going to monitor you for a while and I took first shift. Hope you don’t mind?” When he didn’t say anything, she just smiled and picked up a book she had no doubt brought in to read as she watched him.

He pretended to sleep, but was really watching her. He noticed that she was filling back out again and that a healthy glow had returned to her cheeks. Her eyes also seemed to have more life in them and that made him happy. He didn’t want to examine why that made him feel the way it did, he just knew that it did.

“You’re really bad at being subtle; I know you’re watching me.”

He snorted. “I’m just doing the job you’re supposed to be doing.”

She sighed and continued reading. “Whatever, Draco.”

He looked at her. He just now noticed that, for the past year, he had been Draco to her. Always Draco, never Malfoy or even ferret. He thought he knew why but he had to hear it from her to confirm it. He knew he was pushing it, but he had to make sure.

“Why are you calling me Draco?” Hermione sighed and shut her book, continuing to look ahead.
“I thought that would be obvious by now.”

“Well, maybe I want you to say it. Maybe I need to hear it.”

Hermione knew what Draco was doing. He was actually trying to be gentle in his prodding. She hung her head, took in a deep breath, and turned to look at him.

He was looking at her like he had that night in the hallway when she had awoken to him creeping around with Harry and Ron. Again there was the lingering look of concern and sincerity. Again there was the determination to make everything right. Again there was the look that he wanted to make her whole.

She mustered up her courage and decided to face this head on.

“Because . . . you aren’t him.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My A/N's are going to be down here from now on, I think. Surprise! I promised this chapter in a week, but then I banged it out that night, revised it, and decided to post it for all my fans to read! I know it seems like things are settling down at the Burrow, but don't worry, the next two chapters or so should bring massive plot points. Someone asked me how Draco and Hermione were going to end up together, and here's the answer: trust the writer! I can assure you it'll happen!! Soon, she'll be able to see Draco for who he is and not his father. If anyone has any ideas for the story, I am more then open to suggestions!