Chapter Text
Is this actually happening?
Finally?
Did that blessed soul-sucking angel of a dementor somehow fix my wonky ghost parts?
I hold my hands up in front of me for inspection and see I am a tad more vivid than before and far less transparent. I try to pick a stick up from the ground and am disappointed to see my fingers slip through as usual.
Well, it's not like a ghost can usually touch things after all, so maybe this didn't mean anything.
"What the fuck is going on here? What the fuck am I doing out here?" Draco takes another step towards me; his wand lowers only an inch, "Why the fuck was there a dementor out here? Why the fuck are you out here?"
Sweet pickles, he can see me.
Right.
Think of something witty Granger, something to impress him despite the current situation.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" Draco, obviously frustrated, screams when I don't say anything for a few tense minutes.
"Seriously, you curse far too much." I chide.
Damn.
Super clever Hermione.
My chest is still a little tender oddly, and my energy isn't quite where it usually is, but it's still taking an incredible amount of restraint not to jump and scream in excitement right now. I also wish I was wearing something more sensible than a-
"What the fuck are you wearing?" His voice climbs three octaves, and his eyes widen even more in confusion and probably shock.
Drat.
He noticed that, did he?
"Um, your old Quidditch Jersey," I say quietly. It's a favorite of mine when I go to my "bedroom" to pout. It's not like I was thinking, "Hey! Today's going to be the day Draco finally sees you so wear a ratty shirt that shows him your full crazy right up front!" when I went wandering in the garden earlier.
"I'm fully aware this is a little...um... shocking, but you can lower your wand. I'm already dead, so it's not like it will do you any good." He doesn't lower it. He actually grips the wand tighter and sets his pretty mouth in a tight-lipped line; I hate when he does that. Makes him look more like his father than usual.
"So was Voldemort and look how that turned out." He grits out.
"Fair point," He was right after all, "But I'm Hermione Granger, not Voldemort and I promise I am of no threat." Unless you count stalking, peeping, obsessing, and stealing as a threat that is. He doesn't need to know all that though.
Right now.
"I'm also fairly certain I just saved your life so a little gratitude would be nice, " I hold my head high and stare him down. Suddenly unamused by his hostility I add haughtily, "You're welcome, by the way."
"Are you fucking serious? Like Hell will I be thanki-"
Draco is cut off by the screams of a frantic Narcissa running through the gardens. A panic I've not seen since the end of the war and Draco was arrested at the Battle of Hogwarts, floods her pale face. Lucius trails behind her, scowling at his stricken wife and I'm pretty sure I hear the words, purple, and war being muttered from his lips. He seems more concerned for the bewitched peacocks then the possible attempt on his only sons' life.
"Draco! My son! Are you alright?" She reaches him in a matter of seconds and throws her worried arms around him, "Linty came running into the sitting room in such a fright! She saw you stumbling in the gardens and said that there was something out in the forest that shouldn't be there!"
Draco narrows his eyes at me before finally letting his arm drop, and he tucks the wand back into his waistband. He assures his mother he's okay and tells her he isn't quite sure what's happened.
"Well?" Draco quirks an eyebrow at me expectantly, " Care to explain?"
"Explain what? We have less of an idea as to what occurred than you do son." Lucius answers, arriving shortly after his distraught wife. I know Draco meant me, and take an educated guess that maybe I wasn't as fixed as I had hoped. I decide to test my theory out.
"Lucius Malfoy is an arrogant, pompous, spinely excuse of a wizard who isn't fit to lick the mud from Harry Potters boots." I bellow dramatically.
The expression on Draco's face is priceless, and he looks even more bewildered when my theory is proven right, and Lucius doesn't react at all. Suspicion clouds his eyes, and I decide to at least help him a little bit with some of the madness.
"Thirty or so minutes ago, depending on how long I was out for, you came stumbling out of the gates and heading towards the forest. You looked like you were in a trance, flailing all over the place like a fish with its head cut off." I watch in amusement as Draco tries to talk to his parents and listen to me without reacting, "Super attractive by the way."
"Anyways," I continue," Trance you decided it was a grand idea to head on out here and have a makeout session with the lovely Dementor, whom I somehow distracted, allowing you the time to snap out of your whatever it was. Up till today, I haven't been able to be seen by anyone, or anything, and it seems like you are the only one who can so far. I've been somewhat stuck to this Manor, and you, since I died, and no, I don't know why either." It's a lot to unload. I know. But there was no simple way to explain all this. I'm sure when he learns the extent of my presence here it's just going to get more complicated.
If I wasn't already dead, I'm pretty sure the look in Draco's eyes could've stopped my heart. Not pleased was putting it lightly; he looked even more restless and suspicious than before. I see his hand inch lower towards his wand and roll my eyes.
Not this again.
"Right, so you're welcome. Now I'm just going to head inside and leave you to all this." I gesture to his parents and the forest, and then calmy head back towards the Manor. I'm not sure what the Dementor did, or the extent of what's changed, but I was darn sure going to find out before being interrogated by Draco. I also needed to change into something a little more fetching than this jersey.
For reasons.
I decide maybe I shouldn't head to my space in his room, just in case he's not too far behind me, and choose the comfort of the Library instead. I pass a few chatty paintings along the way, all of which already know about what occurred outside and have all settled on the theory that a Greengrass must be behind the ordeal. I agree, but unfortunately I can't tell them that because it seems they still can't see me either. It would be my luck that only Draco was able to see me. It also would be another mark in the "Draco has something to do with my predicament" category. I don't think it was done on purpose, just that it has to have something to do with him and me in general.
I arrive at the Library and decide maybe this isn't the best choice of hiding places after all. Draco didn't know much about me, but I'd bet he was intelligent enough to figure out this would be one of the first places I retreated to. Maybe the drawing room? I hate that place for good reason but he would also know the memories associated with that place and would most likely assume I steered clear of there. Mind made up, I turn from the doors and head back down the hall of chatty artwork.
I'm barely down the hall before I hear Lucius and Narcissa approaching voices and panic. Draco could be with them, and I'm not ready for that yet. I phase through the first door I see and find myself in one of the many forgotten storage rooms. Cobwebs span the entirety of the cramped space, and there are boxes upon boxes of various glassware, books, and potion supplies. Not exactly the most fabulous area for harboring ingredients that could make the whole house go boom. I ponder my situation and come to the conclusion that hiding out in what was essentially the size of the broom closets at Hogwarts, was not in the Gryffindor nature of things. I emerge just as Lucius and Narcissa pass, no Draco in tow, and head back to the Library.
Let him find me, at least I'd be somewhere that didn't scream "I'm a coward" and besides I can pass through the walls or the floor if need be.
If he decides to be a hostile snake that is.
"You are the most predictable witch on the bloody planet. The Library, Granger? Death hasn't changed your swottiness I see."
It's been three hours since the incident in the gardens, and I'm shocked it took him this long to seek me out. I look up from the chair I'm occupying and see he has showered and changed into a pair of sharp black slacks and a fitted white button-down shirt. A little formal for twelve at night and interviewing little ole me.
"It's not like I can read them Malfoy, it's just the least pretentious room in the whole Manor. I also haven't seen you here once in the ten years I've been stuck to this place. So I figured it might be safe." I sigh, resigned to the fact this unpleasant conversation has to happen.
What I said was also a lie, not that he hadn't been in here, but that I thought it was safe from his prying. In the last three hours, I determined I wasn't that different at all. Draco could see me, and he could hear me; I was somewhat less transparent; that was it. I suppose it is somewhat of a win, depending on how Draco is going to behave.
"Yes, about that being stuck here matter. What do you mean by that?"
"Figure out what happened out there?" I ignore his question and ask my own. He was far calmer than I expected and I didn't see his wand anywhere on him. I knew where to look to because I've seen every one of his hiding spots before. He either found a new place conveniently or didn't view me as a threat anymore; which isn't what I was expecting. There must be a reason. Like he knew for sure, I had nothing to do with the Dementor attack.
"Yes," Draco says simply.
"And?" I arch a brow, standing up and walking towards him. I changed into a white and yellow sundress I'd taken from one of Draco's one-nighters five years ago. When I noticed the clock was entering the two-hour zone, I figured it was safe to make a run for my room and grabbed the first cute thing I could find.
He steps forward himself, shrugging his shoulders before smirking, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."