Redemption

Chapter 5: Malfoy Manor

Draco was enjoying a fine red wine in his favourite easy chair; a tall leather affair that Snape himself might have approved of. He took another sip of the tangy, almost metallic tasting liquid and stared into the flames of the roaring fire. Outside he could hear a storm raging noisily, but he was quite content to sit by himself, the shadows of the leaping flames playing across his face, as he mulled over the day.

It had been quite mundane, all things considered; no one had annoyed him, yet no one had greatly pleased him either. Well, apart from that rather attractive brunette, who had just started work in the accounts department. She had certainly been quite keen to please him in the cubicle of the Wizard's toilets during lunch break.

He supposed he could be sociable and go to Zabini's dinner party, but quite frankly the thought of making forced conversation with all the usual dunderheads was too exhausting. There was that fit-looking brunette from reception, who had slipped him an owl earlier on in the week, but he found he couldn't even muster the enthusiasm to take her up on that rather... interesting offer. A part of him wished that he had not been so hasty in sending the staff home early; it would be comforting just knowing that someone else was bustling around in the house.

Draco sighed, staring intensely at the stem of his wineglass, as though it held all the answers in the world. At times like this he almost wished his father were still around. Almost. He caught himself just in time, before his thoughts could follow this dangerous train of thought. Mother...of course he felt sorry about that business. But he really was Lord of the Manor now.

So why didn't it feel like that? It was funny how, as an insignificant eleven-year old he had held more answers, and held more cards carried than he did now as the head of a centuries old dynasty. Truth be told, even Draco Malfoy had his limits, when the novelty of his privileged lifestyle began to wear around the edges.

A knock at the door broke through Draco's reverie, and he raised his head in surprise. Generally he regarded the usual round of visitors as little more than tiresome nuisances, but unexpected visitors could occasionally provide a welcome relief, allowing for a few minutes of imagined possibilities. He rose to answer the door, silently promising a glass of 1973 Rioja from his Spanish vineyard to whoever lay behind it.

* * *

As the countryside zoomed dizzyingly past below the Thestral's beating wings, Hermione was immensely glad of Snape's strong arm holding her into her seat. She had lost her hand hold somewhere above a sprawling city, and had been unable to grip on properly since - not least because her hands were frozen into unresponsive claws by the icy air.

Snape could see that the tips of her ears were bitten red with cold, and her teeth were chattering violently. He tightened his hold on her further, and then released it slightly as he worried about whether he was squeezing her too hard.

"Not much further," he said, but the wind had snatched his words away, before his reassurances could reach her. Snape leaned forward, chin almost resting on her shoulder, and shouted into her ear. He was so close his lips brushed against the side of her ear, tickling with a pleasant nuzzle. He couldn't help but inhale the rich scent of her hair, as he felt her loose curls against his cold cheek.

But then the Thestral suddenly lurched downwards, accelerating as the village, streets, and then houses came into focus. Just as Hermione thought they were about to hit the ground, the Thestral pulled up sharply and landed lightly, without so much as a jolt forward.

Snape released Hermione quickly, and jumped expertly down from the Thestral, leaving Hermione to clamber slowly down from her mount. Really, he made Filch look like a knight of the round table in terms of chivalry. She had little time to quibble however, for she suddenly noticed the tall wrought iron gates looming formidably in front of them.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor," Septimus said dryly, stepping out from behind a bush with broomstick on hand. "Told you broomstick was faster than Thestral."

* * *

If Draco was surprised to find his old Head of House standing shivering on his doorstep, he concealed his wonderment remarkably well.

Hermione, placed under a concealment charm minutes before by Snape, noticed how much he had changed since their days at Hogwarts. At school he had reminded her of a two-dimensional cartoon character - all eyes and exaggerated scowls. But he seemed to have tamed that particular trait remarkably well, and she realised with a pang that he reminded her very much of Severus in that respect.

"Good evening Draco. I was in the area. Thought I'd visit." Snape spoke so self-assuredly, as though this was the most natural thing in the world that Hermione felt as though even Neville would have invited him in.

Evidently this was not completely out of character, for Draco opened the door wider.

"Come in Severus. I was just about to open a nice bottle of vintage Rioja." This certainly was an interesting development to his monotonous evening.

"Where are my manners? Draco, meet my nephew Septimus, who teaches at Durmstrang. Septimus, this is Draco Malfoy who was my favourite pupil."

The two men shook hands, the distraction allowing Hermione to slip past unnoticed, into the inner sanctum of Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Terry walked up the steps in the sterile laboratory toward the door, carefully pulling it open as he balanced the steaming vial in his right hand. He strode purposefully into the corridor, knocking lightly on the opposite door.

"Yes?" a harsh voice barked out.

Terry pushed the door open, a little hesitant now.

The severe man looked up from the pile of documents stacked on his desk. He took off his horn-rimmed spectacles resignedly, in preparation for this latest delay, this latest excuse. However, Terry's response snapped him out of his weariness.

"It's ready. All we need now is Hermione."

"The Gargoyles are working on it."

"Perhaps, in the meantime it would be prudent to concoct a Location Potion?" Terry suggested tentatively.

"Oh?"

"Well, I mean, they haven't been successful thus far. It'll take several hours to brew but I - I have some of Hermione's hair, not that I usually - but, I wanted to..." he trailed off, before continuing brusquely, "We would be able to pinpoint her location for certain."

* * *

Draco led Snape and Septimus into his study, leaving Hermione alone in the large reception area. She had to admit, Malfoy Manor was not how she had imagined it. She had expected a lurid opulence of gold and marble, or heavy gothic monstrousness. In reality, there was a pleasant Georgian décor that managed to feel both grand and homely at the same time. It was richly decorated with the Malfoy Art collection, which showcased every movement from pre-Raphaelite to Impressionism. There was an almost tangible sense of the past that pervaded throughout, so that it was easy to imagine someone living within the halls.

All those rumours about dripping torture chambers that had circulated throughout her time at Hogwarts seemed very misplaced. Hermione smiled with amusement as she suddenly realised that despite the gossip and boasting, there was no way that Pansy Parkinson had ever set foot in Malfoy Manor.

As she looked around in awe and appreciation, she wondered where to begin. For once she had to rely on Muggle methods of trial and error. Looking around at the sweeping open staircase, she decided to begin on the first floor, dismissing the possibility of a holding room on the ground floor - far too vulnerable.

Ascending the stairs she trailed a hand wistfully along the polished banister, wondering what it must have been like to grow up in this sort of environment. Surrounded by centuries of magnificent family history, it was not hard to see how Draco had taken the propaganda to heart. She couldn't imagine how she would react to being removed from this nest of luxury, and sent to an egalitarian school like Hogwarts at the age of eleven. It must have been an unbelievable culture shock, alienating even.

She reached the first floor landing, and was disconcerted to find that the lighting stopped abruptly, leaving a long fuzzy stretch of blackness. Hermione hesitated. She couldn't risk lighting the corridor, but there was no possibility of making out the doorways in the pitch black.

"Lumos!" Compromising, she used the weak light from her wand tip to expose a small semi-circle of light in front of her. Deciding that the beginning was the best place to start, she pushed open the nearest door and peered inside.

Dozens of doors later, and Hermione had worked her way up to the second floor. As she neared the end of the corridor, the thought crossed her mind that Neville could very feasibly be held in a concealed room. She groaned, then glanced at her watch, unsure how long she could rely on Snape to keep the conversation with Draco flowing. Thank goodness he had taken Septimus with him, she thought to herself.

She smiled as she remembered Snape's face when Septimus had suggested travelling by broomstick, glad that he had been the one to voice objections, before she had needed to. Although on second thoughts, perhaps it would have been a less traumatic form of transport, considering how things had turned out. She was remembering the way Snape had cut into his own flesh, and mentally shuddered. She knew that he exercised total mastery over his emotions, but she did not know that it extended to the point where he was able to place physical pain behind the same impenetrable barrier. In some ways, she had been right when she had angrily slung the comparison with Voldemort at Snape - in many ways he wasn't human either. Did the mask ever slip, for anyone, she wondered?

Hermione had now reached the last door on the second floor corridor, upon which she had come to stack her hopes. She placed her hand on the cool brass knob and twisted, but the doorknob remained resistant.

"Alohomora!" The door swung open, bathing Hermione in an orange glow from the crackling fire beyond.

* * *

Draco was enjoying Snape's and Septimus's company. He had always been impressed by Snape's intellectual vigour. His nephew had been the surprise, not at all like the older man, despite the strong physical resemblance. It had initially been rather disorienting, hearing such affability emerging from the lips of a Snape, when Draco had been so used to hearing bored sarcasm.

As he opened another bottle of red wine for his thirsty guests, he supposed he had better go and check on his charge. He poured Snape and Severus a glass, and rose from his chair to hand them their drinks.

"Excuse me gentlemen, call of nature."

Well, he could hardly say the truth could he? He could only imagine their shocked responses. He smiled slyly to himself as he left his visitors alone in the study, shutting the door carefully behind himself.

"Septimus, look at this," Snape hissed urgently, crossing the room to Septimus as soon as Draco had disappeared.

"Give me a clue, what am I supposed to be looking for here?" Septimus lazily took a sip from his glass, swilling the red wine around his mouth a couple of times in appreciation.

"The ring Septimus, the ring!" he hissed.

Septimus looked up at the hand thrust in his face.

"The stone has turned red!"

Septimus choked, hastily swallowing his last mouthful of wine. Amber could be ambiguous, but red meant only one thing; danger at Hogwarts, do not return!

* * *

Draco preferred to move in the dark. His eyes had been trained from a young age for night sight, and he found it more natural to rely on his own instincts, even with his father gone and the necessity removed.

As he rounded the corner of the second floor corridor, he was surprised to find a rectangle of weak light splaying out from Neville's room. Worried at this irregularity, he sped up his pace, almost running down the corridor, until he ran suddenly into a solid wall.

"Oof!" Hermione was knocked forwards over the threshold. Turning round beneath the splayed body, she came face to face with her worst-case scenario, as Draco's confused grey eyes squinted at some focal point to the left of her shoulder. She tried to take advantage of his confusion and pushed him backwards roughly. But Draco seemed to have gained his wits, for he pushed down harder, countering her force. He whipped out his wand and quickly cast a revealment charm.

"Hermione?" Draco and Neville spoke with one voice, although one contained rather more warmth in it than the other.

"What are you doing here Granger?" Draco had leapt off her as though she were on fire, and was standing in the doorway regarding her coolly.

"I would have thought that obvious even to you. I," she realised this sounded rather stupid now, from her non-vantage point on the floor, but continued none-the-less, "I've come to rescue you Neville."

"How very touching," Draco drawled. "I see only one small detail awry, with such a noble sentiment - Neville doesn't need rescuing."

* * *

Snape and Septimus stopped their heated discussion as they heard the doorknob turn. They both turned to watch as Draco regally entered the room - followed by Neville and a bashful Hermione.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure you can only imagine my surprise at finding Hermione Granger wandering around my private quarters."

Snape and Septimus did their best attempts at expressions of shock, but the effects were lost on Draco, who was glaring at Hermione as though willing her to spontaneously combust.

"Come, let's drop the pretence. Credit me with some intelligence. I caught her snooping around my house, because she was under the mistaken impression that I was holding Neville prisoner." Draco laughed slyly, but he was the only one who did amongst the confusion.

"For the benefit of those of us who don't have a copy of your script, could you please take the time to explain what on earth he is doing in your house then?" Snape regarded Draco coolly, hand hovering over his concealed wand.

"It's - it's my own fault really," Neville piped up, "I couldn't take it any more. The press, the fans, the singing. I had to get away. You don't understand what it's like. To be a prisoner of your own skin, a slave to the public. I - I know it was selfish. But I had to get away. I was scared I was going to end up like me mum and dad."

"But why here, of all places? What's the pull of Malfoy Manor?" Snape, completely disregarding Neville, directed the question to Draco.

"Well, ah, you see, I'm in charge of Neville Longbottom's management."

Snape let out a strangled snort of laughter. If any part of Draco's pale body was actually capable of blushing, Hermione was pretty sure that it was glowing red-hot by now.

"Adroc Management. It's a very prestigious company!" Draco choked in his defence.

* * *

Dumbledore paced his rooms in agitation. There were more of them arriving by the minute. Why, he had looked out to find one dangling from his own window ledge. Gargoyles, everywhere. Horrible things. This was one area at least where he agreed heartily with Argus Filch.

But at least their continuing presence signified that their master still believed Hermione was at Hogwarts. As a result, Dumbledore had decided that the best course of action was one of non-action, reasoning that his students were safe, as a Gargoyle had never been known to carry out any action without promised profit. They had been sent to snatch Hermione, and that was all that they would do - given half the chance.

He only hoped that Severus had received his urgent warning.

* * *

"Neville, have you any idea the worry you've caused?" Hermione tried unsuccessfully to berate and hug him simultaneously.

"I've only been gone for two days, Hermione."

"It's not only that, it's - oh but I'm glad you're safe!" And she squeezed him affectionately, her face pressed against his chest, missing his bemused smile.

"I hate to break up the touching reunion, but I believe we were sent here on a more important errand than rearranging our complicated love lives," Snape sneered sourly.

"Yes Severus, do tell why it was so imperative for you to find Neville. I'm beginning to wonder at your motives," Draco smirked. Alarmingly, he seemed to be finding the whole charade rather amusing. Hermione noticed for the first time that he seemed to show a less malicious, yet much more sarcastic side of his nature, in Snape's presence.

"I suppose it will be over soon enough anyway," Snape sighed, and launched into an in-depth explanation of the Phoenix Potion and the burglary at the Ministry of Magic. When he had finished Draco looked extremely put out.

"So you all thought it was me? Was he in Slytherin? Check. Is his name Malfoy? Check. Obviously the prime suspect then. What would I need a stupid Immortal Fame potion for anyway? Any fool can see I've got all that already."

And in the pleasant glow from the warm fire, as the strange company sat in comfort, having taken full advantage of the Malfoy wine cellar, no one felt able to dispute that.

"I suppose you'll be wanting a chop at my barnet then?" Neville broke the introspective silence with typical Longbottom grace.

* * *

Satisfied that the Location Potion was brewing nicely in Draco's kitchen, Snape decided it was time to break up the gathering.

"The potion will take several hours to thicken before we can add Neville's hair. I advocate using that time wisely." He turned to Draco, assuming that same commanding presence that Hermione had witnessed earlier on. "It appears unsafe for us to return to Hogwarts."

Draco nodded, then spotted Hermione sitting on one of his kitchen stools reading his newspaper and sighed resignedly.

"I'll direct you to some guest bedrooms."

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