Deny

Draco wondered if he'd messed things up irrevocably as he fixed dinner. Hermione had emerged once for lunch, and had ignored the grilled cheese he'd fixed her. She'd made some toast and poured a glass of milk, then took it back to her room to eat. But now he was determined to win her over - again.

He was preparing lamb seasoned with rosemary, and the scent of the herb filled the entire house. He hoped that Hermione would be drawn out of her room by it, but he hadn't seen her since he'd started cooking. He sat down at the table with a glass of wine and closed his eyes.

He'd had her trust, and he'd had her affection, he was sure of it. She'd been too kind to him for her not to have cared about him, and he knew deep in his heart that she would never have shared a bed with him if she hadn't harbored feelings of some sort for him. He could only hope that his jealousy hadn't ruined things.

And really, why had he gotten so angry when she'd explained her reasoning for not telling Molly about them? It wasn't like he'd committed to her, or expressed anything other than physical attraction to her.

He rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his face with his hands. Would he have denied her, if Molly had asked him? He doubted it, if for no other reason than the simple fact that Molly had been one of the first to believe him capable of Ginny's murder.

He had frozen at the first sound of Molly's gentle voice, and an incredible ache filled hi s entire body. He ached for Ginny, whom he'd lost, but he'd also ached for the closeness that he'd had with her entire family. They hadn't welcomed him with open arms, but they had accepted him as Ginny's choice, and they'd been like a second family to him.

Then all of that had ended, and he'd found the same comfort in Hermione. Being in her arms felt like coming home - she was totally accepting of him, and she believed him to be innocent of the crime he was being accused of. Shame flooded him as he realized that she believed he was a good man, even if they tended to fight a lot.

Even more humbling was the realization that he wanted to be the good man that she thought he was.

A slight scuffling noise made him look up. Hermione was in front of the fridge, opening the door. She looked tired, and her eyes were red and puffy. He realized that he hadn't heard any crying, and wondered if she'd gotten control of her magic again and made her crying silent.

"I'm making lamb," he offered weakly. She didn't respond. She refilled her glass of milk and started toward the hallway, but he jumped up and blocked her path. She gave him an impatient look, but remained silent. "You could at least stay and eat dinner with me. It's not like you'd have to speak to me while you're eating."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," she said neutrally.

"Why not?"

"I should have just listened to you in the first place," she said, shrugging. "You have free reign of the house. We'll just ignore each other."

"That was a stupid idea, and you know it, otherwise you would have done it when I suggested it."

"I don't know. If I had done it, we wouldn't be where we are now, would we? Now please let me by."

"I won't, damn it! You can't just pretend that I'm not here - not after all we've been through!"

"Look," she started. She was interrupted by a tapping noise on the window that startled both of them. He jumped in front of her and made his way cautiously to the window, opening it for the caramel colored owl that tapped on it. The bird held out its leg, waiting for Draco to untie the rolled-up parchment that it was carrying. When he'd removed it, the bird took off again.

"That was a Hogwarts owl," Hermione said, matter-of-factly. "It would be my guess that you're now a free man again." He glanced up at her, but she was staring down into her glass. He unrolled the parchment and began to read.

Mr. Malfoy,

I am more than pleased to inform you that early this morning, the Order managed to corner one of the Dark Lord's followers. This individual had been involved in Miss Weasley's death, and after certain methods of persuasion were implemented, has confessed everything. Your name has been cleared, and you may return to your flat as soon as you wish. Please tell Ms. Weasley that I will be in contact with her soon. I wish to thank her for her help.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

He gripped the parchment with shaking hands, re-reading it twice before the words actually registered in his mind. Had Molly known, then, when she'd come this morning, that he'd been here? He got the strange feeling that she had. He looked up to see that Hermione was still standing there, rooted to the spot.

"I'm free," he said quietly. She nodded.

"Good luck." She left the room before he could speak again. He walked back to his room slowly, taking his time as he went. He held on to the foolish hope that she would stop him; that she would come bounding out of her room at any moment and tell him that she wanted him to stay.

When he had finished packing up all of the things she'd purchased for him, he left her house without letting her know that he was leaving. He went back to his flat, where he was not surprised to find Dumbledore waiting for him. He was, however, surprised to see Arthur and Molly Weasley there as well.

He dropped his bags on the floor inside the front door, and fastened the deadbolt behind him. Molly was the only one who seemed to notice, but she said nothing. He leveled a calm look at them and waited.

"Welcome home, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. Draco nodded.

"Thanks. What's this, then? A homecoming party?" He looked at Molly and Arthur, who were fidgeting. "What are they doing here?"

"We came to apologize," Molly offered. "We were wrong about you, and we're sorry." Draco shrugged and went into his kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of firewhiskey.

"How is Ms. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, eyeing Draco over the top of half-moon spectacles. Arthur looked slightly surprised, although Molly didn't. Draco downed the alcohol and met Molly's gaze.

"She's fine. Unscathed, even."

"I hope the two of you managed to get along while you were there," Dumbledore said amiably. Draco nodded.

"We got along just fine. So you did know this morning, then?" He watched Molly as he asked. Arthur turned and gave her a look of open curiosity, but Dumbledore kept his eyes on Draco.

"I did," she admitted.

"Didn't care to speak to me then, even though you knew I was there and knew I was innocent. It's refreshing to finally know where I stand, really."

"You went to see Hermione this morning?" Arthur asked, bewildered. Molly nodded.

"I did. I was going to fetch Draco, but Hermione never even mentioned he was there. She wouldn't let me do magic in the house, even though the candle lit by itself and the blanket flew off of the couch."

"I suspect that that was her restrained magic manifesting itself," Dumbledore said. When Draco turned to give him a questioning look, he could have sworn he saw the slightest movement of the old man's head, discouraging him from revealing anything to the contrary.

"What do you mean?"

"She's been without magic for four years now, Molly," he explained patiently. "Did you truly think she would never embrace it again? Magic - true magic - refuses to be kept hidden. I suspect she's been doing it for a long time, and has only just recently come to realize what's happening."

"She can do magic without a wand?" Arthur asked, shocked.

"Why is that so surprising?" Draco asked, frowning. "Potter did it."

"But Harry was an exceptional wizard," Molly argued. "He - I mean, I always assumed that because of the prophecy-"

"You don't think she's an exceptional witch?" Draco asked through clenched teeth. He was so intent on Molly's reaction that he failed to notice Dumbledore's interested glance.

"No, that's not what I meant," Molly explained, flustered. "I just meant-"

"You just meant that no one other than Potter is exceptional," Draco finished for her. He turned to Dumbledore. "Again I'm forced to ask, what in the bloody hell are they doing here?"

"It would seem that we're not welcome here, darling," Arthur said softly to his wife.

"Would seem?" Draco sneered. "It doesn't seem that way, it is that way."

"We came to apologize," Molly said, her face flushing.

"After I'd been cleared. You didn't stop to entertain the thought that I might actually be innocent. Despite knowing that I was in love with your daughter and that up until her death, she was the best thing that had ever happened to me, you still thought me guilty."

"What else should we have thought?"

"You should have had more faith in your daughter than that. She would not have had anything to do with me if she had thought even for a second that I was capable of that sort of treason. She knew that I loved her, and it was enough for her to trust me."

"We can't go back in time and change things," Arthur protested. "But we can apologize and try to move forward from this point."

"I don't see where that's necessary," Draco said coldly. "I no longer have any ties to your family."

"Actually," Molly said, looking down at the floor. "You do."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And how is that?"

"Our daughter-in-law is in love with you." Arthur turned and stared open-mouthed at Molly. Draco's jaw clenched so tightly that he wondered for a brief moment if he would break his teeth.

"What in the world are you on about?" Arthur asked. "Hermione loathes him! And that fact aside, he was there less than a week! That's not long enough to fall in love with someone you used to hate!"

"Ginny used to hate me, and she fell in love with me in less than a week."

"Are you saying that Hermione is in love with you?"

"I'm saying no such thing," Draco denied, his eyes narrowing. "And I don't think it wise of you to say either, Molly."

"I wouldn't say it if it weren't true," she said defensively. "I know what she looked like when she was around Ron, and I know what she looked like this morning." She turned to her husband. "She was radiant, Arthur. She's been eating, and she was clean, and she had rosy cheeks. She was the very picture of a woman in love."

"Impossible," Arthur said, scratching his head. "She loved Ron, and he is so very different from Ron! Our son was open and honest and loving, and he was a good boy."

"There you have it, then," Draco said, his lips a thin line. "Do you mind leaving now?"

"Arthur," Dumbledore broke in gently. "I think you're overlooking something very important. Hermione is a grown woman, and she knows her own heart. Just because Mister Malfoy has a less than stellar history with her doesn't mean that she can't change her mind." Draco turned and studied the old man, looking for any trace of amusement or facetiousness. When he found none, he turned his eyes back to the Weasleys.

"Do you love her?" Arthur asked quietly.

"That's none of your damned business," Draco snapped, growing tired of their line of conversation.

"You do," Molly said, her eyes full of wonder. "You love Hermione."

"I never said that."

"Oh, sweet," Molly whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "You didn't have to."

"Please," he snorted.

"Are you ashamed of your feelings for her?"

"What, are you my parents now, or something? Better yet, counselors?"

"Perhaps they just thought that they had feelings for each other," Arthur mused. "After all, Draco is on the rebound after just losing Ginny, and Hermione just lost Ron..." his voice trailed off.

"Just lost?" Draco echoed in disbelief. "Can you even hear yourself? Do you know how ridiculous of a statement that is? It's been four years, Arthur!"

"If you have feelings for her, why aren't you still there?" Arthur asked.

"I never said I had feelings for the woman! Besides," he added, turning his back to all of them. "Your wife saw fit to come and plead your eldest son's case to her this morning."

"What?" Arthur gasped, turning to Molly. She shrugged.

"I thought it might get her to confess that he was there and it didn't work. She turned him down, as always." Draco half turned to look at her.

"As always?"

"She's never shown even the slightest interest in Charlie, even when he was fawning all over her. Poor boy, he felt bad telling her how he felt after his brother passed, but he saw his chance and seized it - which is more than I can say for you." Draco turned all the way around to glare at her.

"What did you just say?"

"At least Charlie knows his own feelings well enough to pursue what he wants. You just walked away from it. How does it feel, knowing that she loved you, and knowing that you just let her slip through your fingers?"

"I know no such thing," he said angrily. "And your continued presence in my home is really starting to piss me off."

"Christmas is in less than two weeks," Molly said gently, changing the subject. "And I know that it's probably not worth anything to you, but if you'd like, you're more than welcome at the Burrow."

"Right," he sneered. "I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for me to show up, if I were you."

"All right," Molly said, nodding. She turned to her husband. "Are you ready, then?" He nodded, and they exited without looking back. Dumbledore stood from his chair and approached Draco.

"I wanted to wait until they left to tell you this last bit of good news. Your fortune has been restored to you."

"What?" Draco asked, lowering himself into a chair. "How? I thought that the Ministry seized all of my parents' assets."

"They had, but it turns out that it was only temporary. They could only hold it as long as you were under suspicion of being one of Voldemort's followers. The individual that we caught this morning told them that you weren't among his ranks, and hadn't ever been, although they had wanted you to be."

"So the Manor-?"

"Is yours, any time you should choose to return there. And I hope you don't mind, but I've restored the wards around it, so no one can get in unless you so choose." Draco's hands began to tremble violently. He was rich again!

"Oh," he said quietly.

"And I thought you should know that last night, the magic detectors around Ms Weasley's home went off."

"What?" Draco shot up from his chair, looking panicked.

"Actually, they started going off shortly after you arrived there," Dumbledore explained, his eyes twinkling madly again.

"Why weren't we ever attacked, then?"

"I think that several attacks were attempted, but they all failed."

Draco relaxed a bit. "So you were able to head them off, then?"

"I had nothing to do with it. Neither did any other members of the Order." Draco frowned at this.

"Then what stopped them?"

"I have many theories, but I think that the most likely explanation is that you and the young lady didn't wish to be disturbed."

"You mean," Draco began. He was silent for a moment, trying to absorb Dumbledore's words. "You mean to say that our combined magic kept them at bay?"

"Indeed. The two of you make a formidable team, if I may say so."

"We do," Draco breathed. "We did," he corrected himself, frowning.

"You should relay this information to her," Dumbledore suggested, moving towards the door. "I haven't the time, with it being so close to Christmas, and all that."

"I don't think that that's such a good idea," Draco murmured. "She didn't act as though she even cared that I was leaving."

"I think, Mister Malfoy, that you'll find Ms Weasley quite forgiving. It's one of her more admirable qualities. One among many, as I'm sure you already know." With that, the old man was gone.