Sins of the Father

Disclaimer: All characters presented in the fic are the property of
J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with them on occasion

Author's Note: Written for elementaldeity for the dmhgficexchange on livejournal.


Special Thanks: Terri, Inell, Zephyr and especially nakhash_mekashefah
for the wonderful feed back especially in the eleventh hour.

Chapter Seven
Time Apart

​​​​The next two weeks were difficult on both Draco and Hermione.
Although they were linked by some mysterious force, that particular
piece of magic gave Hermione no power over affecting the wizard’s mood.

Ever since Draco had heard about Rookwood’s plans to come
after him yet again, he had been walking around brooding. Hermione had
tried to draw him back into the research they were supposed to be
focusing on for their latest assignment, however, it proved ineffective.


While
relaxing in their shared living room one evening, Hermione decided that
she’d had enough of his sour attitude. “Malfoy, I know that you are
concerned about Augustus’s plans, but you can’t go about angry. Severus
said that he would let you know what was happening as soon as he had
more information.”


Draco slammed the book he had been
reading shut and tossed it on the table beside his chair. “And just
what do you suppose I do, Miss Perfect? Am I to sit around waiting for
Rookwood to decide that he’s ready to strike again and hope that he
chooses to include Pansy in his plans?”


Hermione’s eyes
narrowed as she calmly set aside the work that she had brought home. “I
ddersderstand that you are rightfully upset, Draco, but if you think
that I am going to sit around here and act as your whipping post, you
are sadly mistaken.”


Draco watched as she rose from the
table and summoned her briefcase, depositing inside it the parchments
and books that she had brought home before retiring to her room.
Frustrated at his lack of control over the situation, Draco rose to go
and pour himself a glass of wine.


He had returned to his
place before the fire, again trying to focus enough to read his book,
but failing miserably. His head shot up as he heard Hermione’s door
close and she re entered the room. Looking up to apologize, he could
not speak as she stood before him, her bags packed.

“Draco, I
know that we didn’t have much success the last time we stayed apart,
but I cannot bear to watch you like this. Your negativity is more than
I can stand. I think that it would do both of us some good if I went to
the Burrow for a while.”


“Hermione, I’m sorry. Please don’t
leave,” Draco replied, fearing how much his mood would darken due to
Hermione’s absenceif he were to add a lack of sleep due to Hermione’s
absence onto the heap of problems he was currently dealing with.


Hermione
sighed as she looked at the blond wizard. “No, Draco, I’ve made up my
mind. I know that it will be hard, but at least we are working
together; we will still see each other daily and we can discuss a way
to break this bond tomorrow over lunch.


“We really should
have explored our options last year at Hogwarts; I simply cannot
imagine how we can expect to spend the rest of our lives attached when
we don’t even have a viable friendship, to speak of.”


“If you’re sure; you don’t have to leave. I can return to the Manor and you can stay here.”


Hermione
considered his offer briefly before shaking her head, “No, I think it
would do me well to go and spend some time with the Weasleys. I really
have not seen sin since I moved out and I think that some time under
Molly’s wing would help me put things in their proper perspective.”


That
night Draco spent tossing and turning without the comforting presence
of Hermione in the next room. His dreamre sre scattered with images of
Rookwood tending to his broken body as he promised him of the abuse
that was soon to follow. Throughout the night, as he slipped in and out
of sleep, the dreams changed. His dreams took on the appearanf thf the
photos that he had seen in his History of Magic texts while at
Hogwarts.


When he finally rose, his eyes heavy from a
night of restless sleep, Draco looked in the mirror and a voice from
his dreams greeted him. 'You will be known throughout history as Draco the Dreaded,'

the voice had spoken to him, before handing him a battle-axe and
helmet. A devious smile crept across his lips as Draco hurriedly
prepared himself for his day.


Draco owled the office to
notify them that he would be coming in late. Setting the appropriate
wards on the flat, Draco affixed his cloak and Disapparated.


As
he walked down the path that led to Potter’s residence at Godric's
Hollow, Draco considered what exactly he would say to him. Sure, he and
Potter had put aside a lot of animosity last year, but they still were
not exactly best mates.


When he reached the door he still
had not determined what he was going to say. As he reached up to knock,
any coherent thought that might have been running through his head was
erased as the Weasel and Loony Lovegood fell out of the door, their
lips locked together.


Luna broke their kiss as her ice-blue eyes fell upon Draco. Blushing as she spoke she said, “Sorry. Draco Malfoy, right?”


Mumbling
a response of, “Quite all right,” Draco strode past the couple. “I’m
just going to go find Potter,” he added as he stepped into the house.


He
snickered as he walked through the two Aurors’ home. If Draco had taken
the time to consider what Harry and Ron’s flat would have looked like,
this would have definitely been it.


There were Quidditch
magazines littering the coffee table alongside of empty bottles of
butterbeer. Several different robes and cloaks had been carelessly
strewn across the back of the couches.


When he entered the
kitchen he was greeted by the sight of stacks of files and mail piled
on the kitchen table. Harry was sitting before a breakfast of kippers,
fried tomatoes, toast, and boiled egg.


“You do know one of
the benefits of being a wizard is that you can use magic to tidy up,”
Draco drawled, drawing Harry’s attention away from dunking a strip of
toast into his egg yolk.


Picking up a napkin to wipe his
mouth, Harry stood and turned to greet his former schoolmate. “To what
do I owe the pleasure, Malfoy,” he asked calmly, crossing the kitchen
to pour himself another cup of coffee. “Can I offer you a cuppa?”


Draco walked into the kitchen, clearing some files off of a chair to take a seat. “Don’t mind if I do, Potter.”


Harry
walked over to the cupboard to fetch another coffee mug as he flicked
his wand absently, causing the water to boil and percolate through the
coffee grounds. Pouring a cup for Draco and himself, he returned to the
table next to Malfoy and sat down.


“So Malfoy, what are you
doing here?” Harry asked, as he set his cup down to cool. “Somehow, I
doubt that you came by for a cuppa and a taste of Luna’s fry up.”


Draco took a long sip of the coffee, the bitterness of it invigorating him, before looking at Harry.


“Actually, Potter, I was rather hoping that we might be able to help each other.”


Harry
raised an eyebrow and brought the coffee cup to his lips. “Possibly,
Malfoy, but first you need to tell me why Granger showed up at the
Burrow last night.”


Recognizing the shock on Draco’s face,
he chuckled. “Surely you didn’t think that Hermione wouldn’t tell me
about her new living arrangements. We’ve been friends for too long. I
knew that something was wrong when she told me she was moving to the
Weasleys.”


Draco shifted in his seat, uncomfortable under
Harry’s gaze. “I must say, Potter, I’m surprised that you and the
Weasel haven’t been by to hex me yet.”


“Not that the thought
didn’t cross my mind,” Harry laughed, “but Ron doesn’t know. Hermione
managed to convince him that she just felt she needed her independence
after all. And, while I’m not so sure how I feel about whatever is
going on between you and Hermione, she’s not a witch that is exactly
receptive to being told what to do, no matter what the intention is.


“I can only assume that the two of you have had some sort of falling out and that is what led to her leaving?”


Draco
sigas has he set his cup back down on the table. “Look, Potter, I’m not
sure what Hermione told you about our living arrangements, but I am
pretty sure that whatever you think is going on between us is far from the mark. Essentially, Hermione left because I’ve been a bit unbearable lately.”


Harry’s
hand flew to his mouth to prevent his coffee from spilling onto the
table as he sputtered. “Malfoy, I have no doubt that you're correct,
but I'm a bit startled to hear you admit your social challenges. So
you’ve been brewing around acting like the prat that you are, of late.
Let me guess- Rookwood?”


Draco nodded before allowing his
mouth to turn slightly. “You know, Potter, I thought that you
Gryffindors were supposed to show some compassion. You needn’t have
agreed with me so readily.”


Harry chuckled, “You have us
confused with Hufflepuffs. Gryffindor bravery calls for telling the
absolute truth, no matter how hard it might be for one to hear.”


Ignoring
Draco’s look of indignation, Harry sobered. “Look, Malfoy, I really do
understand what it feels like to lie around and wait for some lunatic.
I’ve been there before. But I meant what I said in the Leaky Cauldron,
Snape shouldn’t have told you about Rookwood and I will not involve you
in Order business.


“I’m sorry if you feel I’ve wasted your time, but I think it would be best that you leave now; I can’t help you.”


As Harry stood to clear the table of his breakfast which had now grown cold, Draco’s voice stopped him.


“Harry,
this isn’t about Rookwood. I am well aware of your position on that and
while I do not respect it, I am intelligent enough to know that I can’t
change it. I just need to be doing something.


“I
happen to know that you and Weasley have been making a lot of noise
down at the Ministry about the trivial assignments you have been given
while in training. I thought that perhaps you could use the assistance
of someone not bound by Auror protocol.”


Harry sat back down
and raised an eyebrow at Draco. “You’ve got my attention. What
assistance do you think this individual might be able to provide?”


Draco
smiled. Though he had struggled with how to breach the topic with
Harry, he hadn’t been too concerned with whether he would be amenable
to the idea.


Potter had spent seven years in and out of
trouble because he couldn’t stand to wait around until someone felt
that he was ready to handle his destiny. Now that he was an adult,
Draco doubted he would take to coddling any better than in his youth.


“Hypothetically speaking?” Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.


“Of course,” Harry responded, grinning.


Harry
had been thoroughly impressed when Draco explained the number of
resources at his disposal given his position within the Ministry. The
position of an Unspeakable was not a particularly exciting one.
Generally it involved a lot of research and paperwork.


The
reason the position was special was that they handled the most delicate
forms of research within the Ministry, consequently granted access to
nearly all of the information housed within the government. It didn’t
take much for Draco to convince Harry how beneficial that information
could be to him in researching some of the cases the Aurors were having
trouble bringing to closure.

“I do believe that we might be able
to work something out,” Harry replied carefully. “Though I can’t help
but wonder, what do you get out of this?”


'What indeed,'

Draco thought. He hadn’t a firm grip on exactly what he was looking to
get out of this exchange with Potter. He just knew that he needed to
feel like he was doing something, something more than sitting behind a desk.


An
eerie smile crept across Malfoy’s face as realization struck. “Potter,
I’m sure that in order to guarantee closure to some of these cases, it
might be useful to have someone that is able to confront the suspect
without the… burden of Ministry policy.”


“And you
feel that you would be a good person to play this role?” Harry
questioned. “I’ll admit, I have no doubt that you would be very
effective in acquiring additional information that might prove
beneficial through less than conventional means. And I’m well aware of
your aptitude for using the appropriate level of discretion. But, I
never had you pegged for the type that wished to runabout chasing down
criminals. Why do you want to do this?”


Draco paused,
considering whether or not he wished to confess his motives to Potter.
He was, after all, a Gryffindor, and he might consider Draco's motives
to be less than honorable. But, as he looked across at the man, he
realized that though he would not care to admit it, Potter was probably
the only person that could truly understand what he was going through
right now.


“Potter, with the news about Rookwood, let’s just say I’m feeling a little bit...”


“Tense,” Harry offered.


“Savage, reprehensible, barbaric,” Draco corrected him, pleased when he saw Harry’s smile of recognition.


“If
I can’t do anything but wait for Augustus to make his move, I would
like to feel as if I am doing something. Sitting around researching
natural magic just isn’t doing that for me.”


When Draco
returned to the Ministry, Hermione relaxed as a wave of calm spread
over her. She had barely slept at all the previous night. It had been
many months since she and Draco had been apart and the longing she felt
for his presence had only increased.


Hermione’s dreams had
been disturbingly vivid, images of her and Draco haunting the witch
much of the night. The dreams had been, in a way, very innocent, but
yet, as she watched herself interact with Draco, it had been too
intimate. It had been similar to watching herself with Harry and Ron
during their days at Hogwarts, but more.


By about three in
the morning, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that she would not
receive any quality sleep and decided to get up. Unable to focus on
reading, or even writing in her beloved journal, she pulled on a
nightrobe and went downstairs.


Pulling out a kettle and some
tea leaves, Hermione set the water to boil. As she sat down to the
table, she heard footsteps descending the staircase.


“Ahh,
dearie, I thought I heard you up,” Molly Weasley smiled as she pulled
her robe together. “Excellent, I do believe that I could use a cup of
tea, as well.”


Hermione looked at Molly’s face, the ghost of
sleep still clinging to her eyes. She obviously had not woken on her
own accord.


“I’m terribly sorry if I disturbed you, Mrs. Weasley…”


The
older witch tutted as she shooed Hermione’s apology with her hand.
“Call me Molly, dear. You are no longer some schoolgirl and I love you
like a daughter. I would hope that we are also, to some degree,
friends,” she questioned, flicking her wand to pour the water over the
tea leaves to steep.


“To tell you the truth, Hermione, I
knew that something was wrong when you decided to come by so suddenly
to stay. Judging from the lines on your face, I think that you could
use a friend tonight.”


Hermione sighed. Molly was right. She
would give anything right about now for Ginny to be home so that she
could confess something she had been trying to deny for so long. But
the thought of discussing her relationship with Draco Malfoy, with
Ron’s mother, seemed as far from therapy as one could get.


Mrs.
Weasley interrupted her thoughts with a soft chuckle before launching
into the motherly tone her mother had used so many times as she was
growing up. “I know it might be hard to believe, Hermione, but I am a
woman before a mother. And it doesn’t take a genius to see that some
wizard has got you pretty well twisted.


“I can only imagine
the horror stories that you have heard from my children, but I assure
you that the way a woman treats her children and the way she treats her
friends are two different things.”


Hermione didn’t know what
possessed her. She, of course, knew that it was only reasonable that
Molly Weasley had at some point in her lifetime dealt with difficult
relationships, if not personally then through her friends. But that
fact alone was not enough to propel her to launch into such a
confession. Perhaps she had just kept her secret too long and could no
longer hold it. Whatever the reason was, she found herself confessing
to Molly the reasons for her move.


“Living with him is just…
unbearable. He’s spoiled, sarcastic, and as of late, damn near
impossible to be with in the same room. I don’t know what made me think
that we could possibly live together for any amount of time,” Hermione
exclaimed, her face turning red.


Molly watched the young
girl intently, allowing her to verbalize her frustrations without
interruption. She suppressed the urge to laugh as Hermione danced
around what Mrs. Weasley knew, from years of experience, to be the true
issue. She also knew well enough that, if Hermione was not ready to
discuss what was truly troubling her, no amount of urging would get her
to do so.


As silence fell in the kitchen, Molly stood to go
and fetch the tea that had been steeping and returned with a cup for
Hermione and herself. The two witches sat and drank the calming brew in
silence for a few moments, before she spoke.

“While I can
imagine that you would feel somewhat stressed at being forced to move,
due to situations beyond your control, I assure you that I am not so
naïve to believe ths whs what led you back here after nearly three
months.


“I’m not going to pressure you for more information,
dear, you’ll tell someone when you’re ready. But let me give you this
bit of advice. You can lie to many people, but you cannot lie to
yourself."