Abyss

Abyss

"A... tour?" Hermione asked, as she followed Malfoy outside the room. She threw a nervous glance around her, as she wondered, what could he be up to? Why on earth would he be so bold as to risk me being seen by anybody? "But I thought--"

"Don't worry about the house elves, or anyone else for that matter," he told her. He led the way towards the stairs. "I've already taken cared of them. AND--" he continued, as though he sensed that she was about to comment, "--I didn't kill them, in case you're going to accuse me."

"I was not," she denied, as they began their descent. "Why are you even giving me a tour of your house, anyway? Is this place a museum or something like that? Because if it is, I wasn't able to read about it--"

"Because I want to, that's why." Malfoy paused to look at her. "That should be enough reason for you."

"And I guess I just don't have any say about the matter."

"You guessed correctly."

She rolled her eyes. "Is this the way you treat your other guests? By giving them a forced tour of your house?"

"For your information, this is the first time that I'd be doing this, so you better appreciate my efforts."

"Do you mean to tell me that your... ahem, friends, haven't been toured around your house before?"

He shook his head. "They haven't even been in here before."

That came as a shock. "Including Parkinson?"

He shrugged.

"So she'd been to your house before?"

"Well, it's not like I have the option to stop her if she wanted to visit."

"Huh," Hermione muttered. "I don't really think that should surprise me, seeing as you two were practically attached at the hip. That cow." She glared at his back. " And I guess the only part of this house that Pansy was much acquainted with and interested in is your bedroom. Am I right?"

"My, my. Little Miss Know-it-All Head Girl isn't so pure and pristine after all. Imagining my activities on my bed, what would your parents say? And, Granger--" He turned and grinned at her, that simple act full of so many insinuations that it made her skin crawl, "--jealousy doesn't suit you at all."

She pretended to gag herself. "Please," Hermione scoffed. "Like I would be jealous of a pug-faced bitc... no, wait. I wouldn't dignify that with a comment."

"Good. Then let's not talk about this anymore, all right? I do believe it isn't proper to speak ill of the dead."

He began to walk faster, and Hermione had to clutch at the hem of her nightgown to keep up with his ridiculously fast pace. "You have such a huge house," she commented, slightly out-of-breath, "and yet you don't have any other means of getting down from the rooms upstairs."

Malfoy glanced at her, his eyes appraising. "I've shown you a lot of my mother's dresses that you can borrow," he returned, without any indication of exhaustion, "and yet you insist on wearing that ridiculous nightgown."

"Your comment is totally unrelated to what I've said," she deadpanned.

"I know, and I never intended it to be. I was only stating a fact."

"That I have a ridiculous nightgown?"

"Why, Granger," Malfoy sneered. "Your honesty is such a charming trait."

At that moment, they had already stepped into a room that was, in Hermione's opinion, the grandest and the most luxurious she'd ever seen. A huge chandelier hung at the center of the ceiling, its clear crystals and glass globes illuminating the whole room. There were several other doors, aside from the one they came from, that she stipulated might lead to the other parts of the house. A huge emerald-colored rug covered the floor, and in its middle an intricate emblem was drawn. On one side of the room was a glass case, with the oddest looking collection of jars and vases Hermione had ever seen. On the other side were several marble statues, each one with robes and wands that depicted different eras. And then, completing the look were several portraits hung on each wall, each with frames made from what seemed like real gold. She frowned. These portraits would have been exquisite, only - "They're empty," she noted. "The portraits, I mean. Where are the people inside them?"

She turned, and saw Malfoy standing beside one of the statues, his arm rested around its shoulders. "I've told you," he drawled, "that I've dispatched anyone and anything that can see and hear you, and that included the portraits. The house is ours for the time being. Now, to start the tour, I want to introduce to you--" He tapped the statue on the shoulder three times, "--the patriarch of our family--"

"--Friedrich Malfoy." Hermione bent as she read from the inscription scrawled at the bottom of the statue. She straightened and smirked at him. "That's the first Malfoy I've heard of whose name can't be associated with anything evil."

"That's because he was only starting then."

"To spread dread, fear, and all things terrible to his fellow wizards and witches, you mean?"

"No, you poor, misguided, uneducated soul," Malfoy said sympathetically. "He was only starting to build a name that would inevitably rule over all things magical."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, doubt clearly sketched over her features. "Really."

"Yes. Really." He inched his chin higher and looked down on her, his arms crossed over his chest. "You should be aware that my family is a respected and powerful clan, and it's almost expected of us to dominate. So, if you want to have a good future, my advice is that you'd better start making excellent relationships with the one who'd rule over it." He paused, and said dramatically, "Me."

She shook her head. "You're delusional." She turned away from the statue, and began heading towards the glass case. Hermione took a good look at the jars, then hastily stepped back. "These jars," she said, her voice slightly shaking, "they don't... really... these aren't real bones and skins... are they?" She looked at him for confirmation.

"Let me put it this way: my family aren't too fond of those wizards that defy them." Malfoy stepped away from the statue of his ancestor. "Those jars are those dunces that did."

"But--" She glanced at the jars, then hurried from them until she stood a good distance away, which meant, unfortunately, standing beside Malfoy. "How did they end up like... like that?"

"It's really simple once you get to know what spells to use." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "What, you thought they did that on their own? Did you honestly think that anyone in my family would dare skin and disembowel another with his bare hands?"

"I really don't think that would matter, considering..." She shuddered as she recalled how the bones were twisted, and how the skin was stretched, while still looking fresh... "I believe you were taking me for a tour?" she asked. She curiously glanced at the other doors, careful to keep her eyes away from the glass case. "Where do we go next? What's the next best part of your home?"

"Well," she heard Malfoy say behind her back, "we're through with the two finest rooms--"

"Two?" At this, she turned around again. "But we've only been to the living room--"

"And that would only be the second best."

"And the first?"

"Why," Malfoy looked exceptionally smug as he said, "my room, of course!"

"Your room, of course!" Hermione mimicked with dripping sarcasm. "How can I forget about that."

"I can offer some excellent explanations regarding your state of mental health, if you'd like to hear them," he suggested.

"No, thank you," she muttered with disdain. "The day I consult you about my health is the day I get myself expelled."

Malfoy shrugged again. "Your loss."

"You're a lousy tour guide," Hermione stated, point-blank.

"And you're a lousy guest." There was a heavy emphasis on the last word that didn't fail to reach her ears. Then, he sighed like he was doing such a huge sacrifice for her. "Fine. Let's go outside."

"Outside?" she repeated.

"Yes. I'm going to tour you around the garden."

"The garden?"

"Mm-hmm. I want to show you the flowers and the bees and Granger is an idiot."

Hermione blinked, and then frowned. "What in bloody hell are you saying?"

"In case you didn't notice," said Malfoy as he smiled his thoroughly annoying smile, "you've been repeating the last parts of my sentences for some time now. I thought it'd be funny if you say that you're an idiot as well. It'd be just like admitting the truth, in my opinion."

She stared at him, the expression on her face anything but amused. "Your sense of humor just amazes me, Malfoy," she muttered without a hint of sincerity.

"What can I say?" He winked at her. "I'm simply amazing."

*

"And this," Draco announced, "is the garden."

He watched her as her eyes widened, and he saw that on her face was the very clear expression of awe. Granger looked around her, and told him, "This is beautiful." She took deep, deep breaths of the air. "My God, this is... this is unbelievable."

Draco couldn't really blame her for being so taken with the sight, the smell, that greeted her. If there was one part of the manor that Draco was proud of, it was this garden. He was really thankful that his mother was also keen in ordering the house elves to keep this as maintained and well kept as possible. "It is, isn't it?" he asked, his voice not without the slightest hint of pride. "I'd bet on anything that this is better than the gardens at Hogwarts."

"You'd win," Granger told him simply. "Without a doubt."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," he retorted. Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, then took deep breaths as well.

"Seriously," she said, and when he looked her way she was already walking towards one of the bushes on their left. Granger gingerly touched a flower before she turned to him. "I mean, of course I've already seen the entirety of this garden from your room, but to see a piece of it up close, like this... it's just extraordinary."

"Careful, Granger," he cautioned. "Any more of your excitement and you might burst into a song. I know my garden is astonishing, but--"

"Oh, do shut up, Malfoy," she sharply replied. "I'm enjoying a moment here, so please be kind enough to shut up and let me savor this."

Of course, he didn't do as she asked. "So, you like it, don't you?" he asked, his mouth widened into a smile.

"How can I not?" She made a sweeping gesture around the garden. "This has got to be the most amazing and breathtaking garden I have ever seen."

"Perhaps," he drawled, "I should compile the words you've used to describe this garden, then hand it to Mother. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"Why?" she asked out of nowhere.

He blinked. "Why, what?"

"Why don't you like it when someone... well, I, say good things about your house?"

"I didn't--"

"Don't you like this garden?"

"Of course I do, but that's not--"

"Then don't be so sarcastic," she told him. Granger moved further, her attention diverted to other parts of the garden. "I'm sure that if I were you, and I have this great a garden, I'd boast about it."

"Then perhaps it's best that you're not me," Draco retorted, "because then I don't have to be so expressive of my feelings."

She stopped and looked at him, her mouth already opened to speak, but before she spoke he beat her to it. "Contradictory to what you may think, I am proud of this garden. In fact, I make it a point to go here as many times as I could, or when I'm not doing anything else." Draco stared at the trimmed grass under his feet, his thoughts focused on it. "If you must know, this place... it soothes me."

"That just proves that even the most savage of beasts can be tamed."

He fixed his eyes at her, as he felt his temper fray. "Unlike some mouths, I see."

Granger looked temporarily embarrassed, before she sighed and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"You're right." Draco's lips thinned to a line. "You shouldn't have."

"Malfoy--"

"Forget it. It's already been said." He focused his attention on somewhere else, just to show her that this conversation was over. But if course, the anger her words brought within him could not be so easily dismissed. The nerve of her, telling him what she thought of him... a savage, huh? A beast? He'd show her--

"I don't understand you."

That statement of hers made him look at her again.

"Your temper. Your moods. You shift so fast I can't keep up. One minute, you're insulting me, then you're mocking me, and then the next, you seem to want to make me laugh. And then this!" Granger gestured around her again. "You do this, you tour me around your house like I'm a guest, when it's obvious that you don't want to treat me as such. You do so many things to me and for me that I don't know what--" She breathed, and then, "I don't understand you," she repeated. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because..." Draco glanced at the manor, and said, "Because we're both pretending."

Granger gaped at him in surprise. "I don't--"

"I heard you, you know," he stated. "Back there, in my room, when you said that you were reading out of pretense, I heard you. And I did this, this--" He mimicked her actions and gestured at the silent, empty grounds around them, "--just to distract you from that type of pretense. So I took you out of that room and brought you here to make you believe that we were just having a simple, harmless stroll in the garden. In a way, it's a bigger lie, a bigger pretense... but a more believable one."

She was quiet for a minute, her eyes just focused on him as he spoke. Then, "And you're pretending as well?"

"You're not the only one with demons to run away from, Granger," he said bitterly. "Don't be so greedy as to claim all of them to yourself. I have my own share of... problems that I need to forget every once in a while."

"And here I thought," she said, "that if there's anyone in this world without burdens to bear, it'd be you."

"Whoever said anything about me living the easy life? I have you, Potter, and Weasley. Add you three to the fact that I have to live up to some expectations... that's more than anyone can bear."

"And... saving me... it only made your life more complicated, didn't it?"

Draco stared at her as though she had breathed fire on him. "You didn't have to say it out loud, you know," he snapped. "It's fairly obvious, with the way I have to stun everyone else just so I can take you outside--"

"And what you did will never be forgotten." Granger seemed awkward as she neared him. "You know my demons, Malfoy. You know what I'm running away from. You know them because Merlin knows you're helping me run away from them." Her expression shifted, the look on her face becoming soft, tender. "Perhaps... it's time... that I get to know yours, so I can return the favor. Maybe... in some way, I can help you run away from them as well"

He snorted. "Are we having our very own bonding session here?"

"Yes," she said firmly, and he could see in her eyes the determination to ignore his jibes. "Can't you see, Malfoy? For once, just this once, we have something in common. Of course, having demons that haunt us is a most outrageous ground for commonality, but... it's a start."

Draco paused for a moment, his eyes carefully watching her face. "You don't know what haunts me?"

"No."

"What a disappointment," he said. "For a Know-It-All such as yourself--"

"What I do know about you is that you're such an arse."

That comment made him smirk, despite his best efforts not to. "Did Potter and Weasley teach you that?"

"They didn't have to," she replied. "I saw it for myself."

"So what else do the Head Girl know about the Head Boy?" he challenged. "You seem to have such limited knowledge when it comes to me."

"I know..." He could read the reluctance that suffused her face, but he had to admire her bravery as she went on. "I know that your parents... they're supporters of Voldemort."

"Ah. There you go." Draco clapped his hands. "Very, very nice work indeed. I don't think I need to tell you what my problem is, as you've so plainly stated it yourself."

"I don't--" Then, comprehension dawned on her face, and it transformed her expression so clearly, so completely. "You don't support Voldemort."

"A half-point to Gryffindor," he said, "for a correct, though incomplete, observation."

"Cut to the chase, Malfoy," she told him briskly. "Your quips can only be tolerable to a certain level."

"Fine." Draco stepped closer to her, until only a few feet separated them. "I don't support Voldemort because I don't want to. My parents are so blinded by him that if he asks them to jump off a cliff, they will. They brought me up, believing and making sure that I would be just as faithful to Voldemort as they are to him. But I am not, obviously. I don't want to be his servant like the others are. Especially since..." He raked his hands through his hair. "At first, I was only partly reluctant, in that if I can be shown what I can have when I become a Death Eater, then I would persuaded to be one. But as I saw the attack on Hogwarts... the people around me were being killed ruthlessly, and all for what? Because a halfblood ordered it?" He was especially disgusted at this, at the prospect of him, a Malfoy, being ordered by a lower class... "Malfoys are not meant to serve; they are meant to be served. And I won't ever kill anyone because I was told to. I wouldn't want to be--"

"--a murderer."

He flinched at the way the word sounded. "I will never be a murderer. I will never kill anyone just for the pleasure of it. The Dark Lord, as my father so respectfully puts it, is an idiot. There are other ways where I can gain influence and be superior without resorting to killing, and I believe in that."

"You don't support Voldemort, and you don't want to," Granger restated. "I don't see what your problem could be from that."

"You forgot my blinded parents," Draco told her, and at once understanding crossed her features again. "I don't think they will be pleased with how big a disappointment their only son turned out to be."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Malfoy... you're not a disappointment," she told him softly. "You may be a lot of other things, but a disappointment is not one of them. I'm sure your parents could see that."

"Come now Granger," he mocked, "you're only trying to make me feel better."

"Well what was I supposed to say?" she asked. "I've never encountered anyone with problems as big as yours are."

"That just shows how completely uneventful Potter's and Weasley's lives are."

"Oh," Granger said, with a knowing smile, "I wouldn't say that if I were you."

"Really."

"Yes. Really."

Draco looked up, and noticed that it was getting late. "Come on," he said, as he walked back into the manor. "I've stunned the house elves for too long. You've had your fun, now you have to get back to the room."

They both entered the house, and Draco stopped at the very base of the stairs. "You know your way up," he said. "Go on." He placed his hand on her back and gave her a little push.

Granger nodded, and then took the first step. But before she took another, she stopped and looked at him. "Where are your mother's dresses?"

"They're in the bathroom. Why do you ask?"

"Because--" She smiled. "You've done so many wonderful things for me today that I thought I might just oblige to what you want just a bit." Granger then seized his hand, to his surprise, and squeezed it. "I will never forget this," she said, her eyes serious and dark with meaning. "Thank you." And then, she was gone.

He blinked as he stared at the space where she was, before he lifted his hand to his face and studied it. "Bloody hell," he commented. "I'm becoming soft. Damn you, Granger." Then before he immersed himself in thoughts too dangerous for him, he shook his head. Draco took out his wand, and said the counter curse, just so to free the house elves and return the portraits back to their normal state.

Just as he was to follow her in his room, Draco heard the front door open, then close. Voices, crisp and clear, were now coming from the living room. He glanced up, as though making sure that Granger wasn't visible from the stairs, and then began to walk towards the living room.

In there he saw that his mother was sitting on the sofa, and his father was standing beside her. Both their faces looked especially grim, and Draco could only wonder why. Opposite them, he saw, were three people, only one of which he was familiar with. How could he not know this one's identity? This woman only accompanied Pansy whenever she visited him in his home.

This woman, of course, was Mrs. Emilia Parkinson. Pansy's mother.