A Family Affair

Sometime in the later part of the morning following his turn staking out Malfoy Manor, Harry went to rouse Ron, who was still sleeping peacefully on Harry's couch. Ron was due to meet Charlie in another hour so they could take up their positions outside the Manor, and Harry knew that his friend would need at least that long to come to full wakefulness. He found he didn't have the heart to disturb Ron's dreams, especially since Ron had stayed awake until almost dawn trying to keep Harry sober. Wanting to allow his friend to sleep a bit longer and desperately needing to get away from the siren call of his liquor cabinet, Harry opted to take Ron's place on reconnaissance duty. Scrawling a quick note to explain his whereabouts, Harry tugged on his shoes, wrapped himself up in his warmest cloak, and hurried on his way.

When he returned from his tour of duty, Harry found his rooms empty. Ron had left a note, scribbled on the back of his own, thanking him and saying that he had gone just down the hall to talk with Sirius.

As Harry opened the door to Sirius' rooms, he met Draco and Ron on their way out. He was surprised to see the two talking amiably after the episode at the Three Broomsticks which Charlie had so meticulously described to him.

"Where are you headed off to?" Harry asked.

"Apparation lessons," Draco explained. "I want to see if I can actually remember how it's done."

"I suppose that means you're feeling better, then?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Very much so, thanks."

"You want to come with us, Harry?" Ron asked suddenly.

Harry got the impression that Ron was none too eager to be alone with the ex-Slytherin, and while all he really wanted was to curl up with a bottle of whisky, he felt he owed Ron. He shrugged. "Sure."

Over an hour later, they were all three satisfied that Draco had mastered Apparation. He confessed that his father had taught him, considering it useful knowledge for the boy to have, and that he had Apparated without a licence more than a few times. With the help of his two former enemies, Draco was soon able to recall all he had been taught, and had even learned a few new and helpful tips to make the task easier.

Returning to the dungeon apartments, the trio joined Sirius, Sean, and Alexis for lunch. Draco was careful to avoid anything he could not readily identify, much to the delight of Sean and Harry who teased the boy mercilessly.

"So far, we've learned who frequents the Manor, when they come and go, and how often they actually look around to see if anything is amiss," Draco summarized as they finished up their meal.

"So far," Harry added with a frown, "we've learned that Pansy is a slut - did I tell you I saw her trying to cosy up to your father?" Draco made a disgusted face at that bit of information. "Yes, well, anyway. We've learned that Pansy is a slut, that the unknown wizard has poor taste in women, and that Crabbe has a sick fascination with his own mucus."

Draco looked as if he were going to be ill again. "I don't think I wanted to know any of that," he said simply.

A gentle rap at the door drew Sirius away from the conversation, but soon he was back with Hermione following behind.

"I suppose that's my cue," Draco said with a smile. He leaned over and kissed his baby sister on top of her head before rising from his seat. Tying back his long hair as he walked, Draco disappeared into Sirius' bedroom. When he returned a moment later, he was pulling on a denim jacket over the long-sleeved tee shirt he wore.

Hermione blinked at him. "You're going to walk through Hogwarts in the middle of a school day dressed in Muggle clothing?" she asked.

"I've already done, earlier today," he returned with a shrug. "It doesn't matter much when you know your way around," he added cryptically.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, both of them smiling mischievously. "Marauder's Map still comes in handy," Harry explained.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "You still have the map?"

"I have it again. Took it away from a student at the beginning of the school year. Of course she had no idea what it does; she had just seen it lying about in Filch's office and nicked it on a whim. She has a horrible record for petty theft," he said, looking a bit saddened as he explained about his student.

"Lucky for us, in this case," Draco noted. "Come on, Hermione. We'll be late."

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

Draco's blood ran cold at the sight of his former home. He had spent many relatively happy years inside those walls. Now he wanted nothing more than to tear them down, stone by stone - with his bare hands if need be.

Peering through the omniculars, he scanned the windows, looking for any signs of life. Through the window of his mother's bedroom, Draco spotted Ginny Weasley, recognizable to him only by her red hair. She looked shell-shocked, vacant of expression, but otherwise seemed unharmed. A moment later Pansy Parkinson entered the room, looking much as Draco remembered her. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, apparently bitching at the other girl. Ginny, to Draco's surprise, strode across the room and slapped Pansy hard across the face. To his even greater surprise, Pansy simply stalked from the room rather than hexing the redhead into oblivion. Draco felt sure that his father must have issued strict orders against harming his prisoner.

The hours passed quickly, despite boredom and bitter cold, and soon Hermione was at his side.

"Ron's here," she informed him. "I don't know who else is supposed to come, but I'll wait. You go on," she instructed.

Draco shook his head. "No one else is coming. I'm to stay."

"Are you certain you're up to it?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," he insisted, although he shivered a bit. Night was approaching, and the temperature was beginning to drop.

"Take my cloak," Hermione suggested, slipping the garment from her shoulders. She draped the warm woolen cloak around Draco, feeling unaccountably nervous as the movement brought her into close proximity with him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his heartbeat quickening when Hermione's cold fingertips brushed his skin as she fastened the clasp at his throat. On impulse, he wrapped his arms and the cloak around Hermione. Her cheeks flushed crimson, bringing a smile to his lips. "Will you be at the castle tonight when I'm done here?" he asked.

"I hadn't planned to be," she admitted.

"Pity," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her face and neck and causing her to shiver with more than just the cold.

Hermione drew back, intending to pull away. Draco brushed his lips softly against hers, and she gave a sharp little gasp of surprise. Taking advantage of Hermione's reaction, Draco darted his tongue out to dance along the slight part of her lips.

Everything in Hermione told her to pull away, to run, to get far, far away from this complicated, deadly, sexy man before she ended up getting herself into a mess she couldn't get out of - at least not without inflicting permanent damage to herself, or Draco, or both. Her body, however, seemed to be acting independently of rational thought, and she found herself kissing him back as if her very life depended on it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered another kiss, long ago, that had sparked something deep in her soul - just as this kiss was doing now.

Ron's kisses had never managed to create that spark.

The thought of Ron was all it took to snap Hermione back to reality. She broke the kiss and pulled away from Draco, shaking her head. "You're supposed to be working," she chided, trying to keep her tone light.

Draco just nodded, his thoughts and feelings a confused whirl. "Good night, Hermione," he said. Giving her one last tender kiss, he pulled back and let her move away from him.

"Good night," she replied in kind. Then she vanished.

Pulling Hermione's cloak more tightly around himself, he turned back to the house he was supposed to be watching. Catching a hint of the lingering smell of jasmine coming from the folds of the thick fabric, Draco felt his heart lurch. He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and lose himself in Hermione's familiar scent before forcing his attention back to the task at hand.

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

Hours passed as yet another uneventful watch ticked by. Shortly before he and Ron were to head back to Hogwarts, Draco got his first glimpse of his father.

Ginny was sitting, once again, in his mother's bedroom, this time studying her reflection in the vanity mirror and brushing out her long, coppery hair. The door opened, as it had earlier, but this time Lucius Malfoy entered the room.

In an instant Ginny was on her feet, turning to face the man. Draco felt his stomach roll as he watched the girl race into his father's arms, turning her face up to receive Lucius' hungry kisses.

Draco must have made some sound to indicate his displeasure at the scene before him, because suddenly Ron was at his side.

"What is it?" Ron asked, concerned.

"You don't want to know," Draco answered honestly.

Ron raised his omniculars, curious as to what had caused the stricken, disgusted look on Draco's face. What he saw was his sister, tugging at Lucius Malfoy's robes in an impatient effort to strip them from his body. Lucius laughed and stilled her hands and then swept the girl into his arms. He placed her gently amongst the pillows on the bed and stretched out beside her. When Ginny pushed Lucius down onto his back and claimed his mouth with her own, Ron dropped his omniculars in shock.

The horrified expression on Ron's face was quickly replaced with one of mindless rage. Afraid of what the redhead might do, Draco scooped up the omniculars and dragged Ron out of sight of the house.

"Let me go," Ron hissed angrily as he fought to free himself from Draco's grip.

"No! You're not going to do her any good by rushing in there unprepared. You'll just yourself killed. Likely get her killed as well. Is that what you want?"

"No, of course not," Ron mumbled. He looked down at his feet, glanced toward the house, then turned his gaze back to Draco. "Why?" he asked weakly.

Draco didn't have to ask what Ron was talking about. "I've been watching Ginny. I think she's under some sort of curse. Imperius, maybe," he said.

Ron nodded in understanding. "We've got to get her out of here."

"Go back to the castle. Sean and Sirius are probably already on their way, so I'll wait for them and bring them back with me. I need you to get everyone together so we can try to figure out what to do next. All right?" When Ron didn't immediately respond, Draco forgot himself and raised his voice somewhat. "All right?" he asked again.

"All right!" Ron hissed, annoyed.

They headed back to what Sean had termed the 'LZ' - the small clearing near which he and Sirius hid the bike and where the others typically Apparated to. Ron vanished, and Draco melted into the shadows in the trees surrounding the clearing to wait for the others to arrive.

*********

When everyone was finally gathered together, Draco and Ron carefully explained what they had seen that had given them such cause for alarm. The next half hour was spent in trying to calm down Ginny's brothers, who all wanted to rush right out without any preparation and try to save their sister's innocence.

Over the course of the night, a plan was laid out. It was not an infallible plan. It was not a brilliant plan. It was not even a very good plan. It was, however, the only plan that they had.

Late the next evening, under the cover of darkness, Draco would attempt to take down the wards. The group would then infiltrate the Manor in pairs. They would attempt to separate Ginny from Lucius, get the girl to safety, and disable the dark wizard and his minions.

Although everyone disagreed a great deal about various bits of the strategy, all of the magic users agreed on one thing: Sean needed to keep his Muggle arse out of the line of fire. Having no means to defend himself against curses, he would be more vulnerable than any of the rest of them.

Sean, of course, disagreed.

"Drake, I am not letting you waltz in there and get your ass killed. I didn't come halfway around the world and spend the last few days feeling like I'm in the middle of some weird-ass Steven Spielberg-meets-Stephen King horror film to just sit and twiddle my thumbs while you guys play hero."

"Sean, please," Draco began.

"No, goddammit. I'm going, and that's final."

Draco leaned back in his chair with a resigned sigh. "I should have gone with my instincts, and done this on my own as soon as Ron left tonight."

"That would have been entirely too Gryffindor of you," Hermione teased.

"Yes, indeed, it would have," Snape agreed. "Headstrong and foolish without a thought to the consequences."

"Isabella refused to be left behind," Harry said quietly, his near whisper bringing silence to the little group. "She insisted that she wanted to be by my side, consequences be damned. I remember telling her that her Gryffindor streak was showing," he recalled with a wistful smile. "I don't think you should go, Sean. I don't want you to be another needless casualty in this war." He paused to let his words sink in.

Sean weighed his words carefully. "Harry, I appreciate where you're coming from. I really do. But if anything happened to Draco, and I wasn't there to at least try to stop it, I could never forgive myself."

Pain flickered briefly across Harry's face. "That's very much like what Bella told me the night she died." His voice cracked, taking his composure with it, and he laid his head down on his arms there on the dining table as sobs racked his too-thin body.

"I'm sorry," Sean said softly as Hermione and Sirius moved to comfort the stricken man.

For a moment there was silence, save for the sound of Harry's sobs and Hermione's murmured words of comfort.

"We can never know what effect one choice will make on the future," Severus' deep voice announced, breaking the silence. "Had you gone with your instinct to protect Isabella by disregarding her decision to accompany you, things might be very different. She could still be here, by your side." He paused, knowing that everyone would be thinking him a heartless bastard about now. "Or perhaps, in denying her the right to choose her own path, you would have pushed her away. Or perhaps you would have died at Lucius' hand that night instead of Isabella, and she would be left behind to mourn and to face each day feeling that if only she had accompanied you, you might have lived."

Harry lifted his head to look at Snape with something akin to wonder.

"It is time to stop blaming yourself for those things which you can not control," Severus told the younger man, his stern voice tempered with kindness. "The tendency to carry the weight of the world on one's shoulders is another very annoying Gryffindor trait," he added with a smirk.

"When did you become a Gryffindor, then?" Harry shot back, shocked at himself for being able to joke while his eyes were still filled with tears.

"Touché," Severus replied, the barest ghost of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"Why does everyone act like the lines are so clearly drawn?" Hermione wondered aloud. "Everyone knows what a time the Sorting Hat had trying to place Harry." She grinned. "I can hardly believe it told you that you'd do well in Slytherin, though."

"Damned thing wanted to put George in Ravenclaw," Fred said. "Wanted to separate us. Can you believe it?"

Harry smiled at Hermione. "Did I ever tell you that Bella was almost a Gryffindor?" Hermione shook her head. "She knew her father would...be displeased. She had to beg to be placed in Slytherin. The hat said it would be a poor fit, but she alays maintained that she couldn't have lived through sharing a common room with the twins."

That sentiment, being one shared by a more than a few people, drew a good many laughs from the little group.

"It's getting late," Charlie pointed out. "We should all get some rest."

After a few murmurs of agreement, the group broke up and went their separate ways. Charlie and the twins headed for the flat Fred and George had acquired in Hogsmeade; Ron and Harry retired to Harry's apartments; Severus shut himself up in his room, and Sean and Sirius went to take a late night stroll through the castle. Once the room was empty, Hermione moved to retrieve her cloak, ready to make her way home.

Draco laid his hands over Hermione's stilling her movements and looked into her eyes for a long moment. "Stay with me tonight," he said quietly.

Hermione jerked her hands away, her features twisting in rage. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Malfoy,?" she hissed, hurling his name like an insult. "Do you think I haven't been listening to all Sean has said about you? I've heard all about your conquests, and I have no intention of becoming another notch on your belt," she spat.

"Conquests," Draco mused softly. "Is that what you think? You think I just use women and toss them aside?" He turned away from her, trying in vain to hide the hurt in his eyes. "How easy do you think it is to build a lasting relationship with someone when you can't even tell her your name?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

Feeling incredibly guilty for jumping to conclusions, Hermione moved closer to Draco, reaching out tentatively to rest her hand on his back. Draco turned to face her again, taking her outstretched hand between his own.

"Hermione," Draco all but whispered. "I'd really like for you to stay tonight. I'm not going to try to....to pressure you into anything. I won't so much as touch you, if that's what you want. But I really don't want to be alone tonight."

"You're frightened," Hermione said as the realisation struck her.

"I know better than anyone else what we're up against tomorrow night," he replied. "I'm not afraid to die, but I am afraid to fail."

Silent tears spilled from Hermione's eyes as she moved to take Draco into her arms. He wrapped her in a tight embrace and buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply to take in her warm, rich scent. He savoured the moment, stretching it out for as long as he could stand to, etching every detail into his memory.

After a good many minutes, Draco finally pulled out of Hermione's embrace. Lightly brushing his lips against hers, he took her hand and led her to Sirius' bedroom, quietly closing the door behind them. Choosing his actions carefully, he dropped Hermione's hand before moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Struggling to avoid looking at Hermione, Draco unlaced and pulled off his boots. He stripped off his socks and dropped them and the boots onto the floor at the foot of the bed.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you might have pyjamas I could borrow," Hermione said.

Grinning, Draco looked up at her. "I don't think I even own any pyjamas," he confessed. "But I should have something that will do."

A summoning spell brought his backpack to him. He rummaged inside and brought out a faded tee shirt that would be long enough on Hermione to provide her with a modicum of modesty. He tossed it to her, and she caught it easily, immediately holding it up for inspection.

"It will do," Hermione decided. "Turn around."

Draco had fully expected Hermione to excuse herself to the bathroom to change. That, in his experience, was simply what girls did. Suddenly feeling both nervous and slightly aroused, Draco did as he was told, trying desperately not to think that for a moment or two, Hermione would be almost completely naked behind him. He concentrated instead on divesting himself of his jeans, trading them for a pair of baggy flannel trousers. He tossed his shirt aside and waited for Hermione to give the all clear.

"Nox," Hermione said softly, plunging the room into darkness.

Draco chuckled as he threw back the blankets and climbed into bed. A moment later he felt the bed shift as Hermione joined him. She reached out carefully to determine where he was in relation to herself, and then she was snuggling up against him, making his breath catch in his throat.

His heart racing, Draco moved to gently rub Hermione's back, tracing slow, deliberate circles through the thin fabric of the shirt. They lay that way for a long time, not sleeping, not talking, but simply enjoying being close to one another in the still darkness. Suddenly Draco pulled Hermione more tightly against him in a brief but fierce embrace and pressed his lips to the top of her head. Hermione smiled, and although Draco couldn't see her expression, he could feel the smile against his skin. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing himself to drift off to sleep.

***********

When Draco awoke with Hermione nestled in his arms, he thought for a moment that he was still dreaming. Slowly, he allowed himself to accept that he was awake and that Hermione really was lying there, with her face pressed into his neck and her slender arm curled around his chest. Not wanting the moment to end, he continued to lie there, moving only to stroke Hermione's hair.

"I think I could love you," he whispered to the sleeping woman.

"I feel the same," Hermione whispered against his neck.

"I thought you were asleep," Draco confessed, trying to calm his suddenly unsteady nerves.

"I'm glad I wasn't," Hermione replied, raising herself up on one elbow to look down at the man beside her.

Draco reached up to lightly caress her cheek, trailing his fingertips down her jaw line. She leaned down and kissed him ever so softly, so tenderly he was certain his heart would burst from the emotions coursing through it.

"Hermione...when this thing with my father has been settled...do you think -perhaps- we might could see where this leads?" he asked, his eyes pleading with her.

Smiling tenderly, Hermione brushed Draco's hair back from his face. "I'd like that," she assured him.

Draco gently pulled her down, cradling her against his chest and stroking her bushy hair. He hoped that when the day was done, he would be able to come back and relive this moment. Now that he had a chance at a life - a real life with someone to love - Draco found that the idea of dying at his father's hands did frighten him after all. He was, however, more determined than ever to face the man and walk away victorious.