Declaration

DECLARATION

"Draco, darling, come in!"

Narcissa's voice, layered with honey, came floating out of the spacious living room. Draco thanked a house elf who had appeared to carry his school trunk (a feat he would never have accomplished without Hermione's constant lectures on how unfairly house elves were so badly mistreated) and walked slowly into the house he had not seen for almost a year. Another house elf struggled to help the first with his heavy trunk, trying to force it up the grand marble staircase leading to the bedrooms on the second floor of the Manor.

"Draco, son, how was school this year?" Lucius spoke now. His voice was carried a trail of haughtiness to it, more pronounced than Draco remembered.

"It was..." Draco left his sentence hanging. He didn't want to complete it; he knew his parents would enquire more whether he wanted them to or not. He slowly walked towards the large living room, each step taking him only a little bit further. He lowered himself down into a leather armchair, sighed, and tilted his head back with his eyes closed. He couldn't believe it, but he missed her already.

"How's Pansy this year? Did she do well academically?" His mother spoke this time. Draco moaned inwardly before tilting his head back up. He wasn't in the mood for one of his parents' famous, lengthy interrogation sessions. He didn't feel like talking about Pansy's academic life, Crabbe's sexuality or Goyle's success in counting to ten. He just wanted to close his eyes and think of her.

"I don't know, I didn't bother to ask," Draco finally admitted. He knew there was no getting out of it; his mother was already waiting for an answer and his father was berating the house-elf for the high yet seemingly unacceptable quality of the Earl Grey tea.

"Why not?"

"Because it's her business, she wouldn't have told me anyway."

"Draco, I'm confused. She asked you to go to Diagon Alley with her during the winter break and you declined. She reported to her parents that you wouldn't have conversations with her like you used to, and now you don't know her academic performance this year? What's wrong?"

"I just..." Draco hesitated for a split second too long.

"Surely you're not seeing someone else...that would be absurd." Lucius spoke now, in a voice that suggested danger to come.

"In a sense I am, even though she's not what you would call my regular type."

Just by looking at their faces, Draco could tell exactly what they thought. He didn't even think of letting the matter drop, however. He could stand up for himself, and he thought it was high time he did just that.

"Well, what is she like, then?" His mother seemed to have recovered first, and it was plain from her tone that she wanted to like what she was about to hear.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, then immediately shut it again. He wasn't sure how to tell his parents about Hermione; how could he describe how happy she made him? He was sure his mother never made his father that happy. He couldn't describe the way her intelligence challenged, even surpassed his own, he couldn't describe the pains and trials they had both gone through just to preserve their relationship, and he couldn't even begin to fathom the number of times they had toyed with the idea of letting everybody now about their new found feelings before deciding against it. He couldn't describe the way he felt when they had first kissed in the depths of the library, how he felt that he was lost in the maze of dusty tomes as well as in her embrace. He couldn't describe the way her eyes lit up when she saw him, the way his heart leapt into the region of his Adam's apple when she smiled, the way she helped him through his hard times and the way he struggled to help her through hers. She had shown him what it was to truly be loved and how to love truly. He couldn't tell his parents that she was a Gryffindor, and above all, there was no way he could tell them that she was a Muggle-born. Once he mentioned that (and he knew he had to), his parents wouldn't care how happy they were together.

But despite all the consequences that flew to his mind, he came back to reality and recited his thoughts as coherently as he possibly could to a stricken Narcissa and a livid Lucius. The last thing he heard was the front door slamming shut with a ground-shaking vibration and a reverberating clamour.

***

Draco strapped his trunk into the harness at the back of his Nimbus 2001. He brought out his compass and map and attached them to the front of his broom. Pocketing his wand and looking around, he caught his last glimpse of the towering Malfoy Manor before mounting his broom and kicking off from the ground.

Higher and higher he climbed without looking back. His face showed a grim determination, borne out of love and passion.

Little did Hermione Granger know that she was about to receive a guest.