Chapter Text
“There she is, darling. Go say hello.”
Narcissa gave Draco a gentle nudge. He tried to duck behind her skirts but she tutted and swept him forward to greet the little girl standing across the room.
Draco’s first thought was that the girl was very pretty. He didn’t want to stare or be weird, so he chanced glances at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked to be about his age or maybe a little younger, with dark, loosely curly hair and big serious eyes rimmed with wet-looking lashes. Her cheeks were pink like someone had just scrubbed her clean, and she was wearing a little blue dress with neat white lace on the sleeves and collar.
“This is Hermione,” his mother said. “We got her just for you. She’s going to be your new friend.”
At the sound of her name, the little girl – Hermione – curtsied quickly, her shiny black shoes squeaking against the floor.
“Hello Draco,” she said. She sounded nervous.
Draco turned to his mother, eyes big and shining. She smiled indulgently and planted a kiss to the top of his head before pushing him forward again. Draco wasn’t sure how close he should get to Hermione, or if he should shake her hand, but decided to give her a little bow from a few feet away.
“Hello Hermione," he said. "I’m going to take very good care of you."
She nodded quickly, eager to agree.
“Can I take her to the playroom, mama?”
“Of course, dear. Off you go.”
Draco took Hermione’s hand in his and led her to the room that contained all his toys. He spent the afternoon showing her each one. Here was the train set, here were the stuffed animals, here were the wooden soldiers. She could play with them all anytime she wanted, he would share everything with her.
“Where are your toys?” he asked.
Hermione bit her lip. She took her hand back from his and stuck the thumb in her mouth. Draco frowned.
“You don’t have any?”
“We all shared toys back at the big house,” she said. “I didn’t bring any, they told me—they told me I wouldn’t need old toys now that I’m yours.”
Draco puffed his chest out.
“They’re right,” he said. “You can have as many new toys as you want here. Mother and Father will buy them for you if I ask them to.”
Hermione smiled weakly.
“Thank you, Draco.”
They sat in companionable silence for a bit. Draco watched as Hermione rolled a toy train back and forth. He noticed for the first time that she had dark circles under her eyes and that her skin had a pale, tired tint.
“Was the big house a bad place?” he asked.
“Sometimes. I—I’m not supposed to bother you with stories about it, though.”
“Who said you couldn’t bother me with stories about it?” Draco asked with a frown.
“The matrons said I was lucky someone wanted me as a pet. They said I mustn’t ruin it by being glum or difficult.”
“Well the matrons aren’t here, and they’re daft for saying that. You won’t ruin anything. You’re mine now and I’m going to take care of you forever.”
Hermione smiled again - a wider, hopeful thing this time. Something in Draco’s chest thrummed. Hermione didn’t seem to like talking about the big house so Draco changed the subject.
“Is there anything you’d like to do?” he asked. “We could play more here, or I could show you the grounds and the pond. We could ask Mother and Father to take us for ice cream.”
Hermione looked up at him nervously. Draco prepared himself to agree to whatever she wanted to do – even if it was something he didn’t like – to show her that he would take good care of her.
“C-can we go to sleep? I’m very tired.”
This was not what he was expecting, but Hermione did look rather tired. He nodded and took her hand again. It was a few hours earlier than his normal bedtime but he could always teach her the normal bedtimes tomorrow.
Realizing that he didn’t know where she would be sleeping, Draco led her to his room for the time being. He was thinking that she could sleep in his bed for now and he would sleep on the chaise, but when they got to the room he was surprised to see a small pink bed set up next to his already. There was even a dresser in the closet containing clothing for Hermione. The garments were all new and Draco watched happily as Hermione’s eyes widened when she saw them, her hands running over the silks and velvet in awe.
“Thank you, Draco,” she said again, and Draco felt a warm, protective joy at her happiness.
Hermione carefully chose and then changed into pajamas – a matching white set with pink bows – and climbed under the covers of her new bed. Draco tucked her in as his mother sometimes did for him, and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“Goodnight, Hermione. Are you happy?”
Hermione nodded quickly, her lips curling into a shy smile.
“It’s very nice here, Draco,” she said politely.
Draco beamed. He drew the curtains to hide the rays of the setting sun and, even though he wasn’t tired, he changed into his own pajamas and went to bed as well. He didn’t want Hermione to feel awkward.
It took him a while to fall asleep, but Draco didn’t mind. He watched Hermione’s eyelids flutter shut, the dark lashes stark against her skin. He watched the slow rise and fall of her shoulders as she fell into a peaceful sleep.
She was perfect.
That first night, Hermione slept until mid-morning. Draco didn’t dare disturb her, she looked to be resting so deeply. He brought her croissants and jam in bed and waited until she woke up, then watched as she ate. Afterwards, he had her change into outdoor play clothes and then showed her all around the grounds.
“This is the tallest tree on the estate,” he said. “I climbed up to that second branch once – there, with the big crack on it – but then I fell and Mother had to call the healer to regrow two bones in my leg.”
Hermione looked up in awe, counting the branches out loud. She seemed much happier outdoors and Draco made a mental note to play with her outside often.
“Did you climb trees back at the big house?” he asked.
Her eyes shuttered.
“No,” she said. “We weren’t allowed.”
“Why not?”
“Susie B. fell from a tree and broke her arm and it healed wrong,” she said quietly. “Her new family decided they didn’t want to buy her anymore, after that.”
Draco frowned.
“You can climb all the trees here that you like.”
“What if I fall and break my arm?”
“The healer will fix it for you. And it won’t heal wrong, either. Father says Healer Smithson is the best in the country.”
Hermione chewed at her lip.
“And if it heals wrong anyway?”
Draco looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked nervous and he knew he had to make it better, make her feel alright.
“You will still be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
Hermione blushed then, a pretty pink that settled on her cheekbones like fairy dust. Draco smiled at her and held out his hand. She took it and they wandered through the woods the rest of the morning, Draco pointing at creeks and rocks and ancient fruit trees as they went.
It was wonderful having a playmate.
Mother and Father left Draco to his own devices, by and large, although he saw them most nights for dinner. Before Hermione’s arrival he spent most of his time playing alone, either inside in his playroom or outside on the grounds. His parents sometimes had friends over, and their friends might sometimes bring their own children, but other than that Draco’s life was rather lonely. Hermione changed all that.
From the moment he woke up to the moment he went to bed, Draco was no longer alone. He often blinked groggily awake to the sight of her big, honey-brown eyes peeping at him over the side of the bed. She would smile – shyly in the early days, then toothily as the weeks turned to months – and ask Draco what he wanted to do that day. Most days he would let her pick.
They explored the grounds, pretending to be a prince and a princess on a grand journey together. Draco made Hermione a crown of daisies and kissed the back of her hand, as he had seen Father do with Mother. Hermione still refused to climb trees, but she sat on a stump nearby and would watch and cheer as Draco tried to climb higher and higher. By his seventh birthday – one year after Hermione’s arrival – Draco could climb up the fourth branch on the tree.
Father and Mother delighted in Hermione as well.
“Isn’t she a pretty thing,” they said to their friends, showing her off at dinner parties. “Draco just dotes on her, our little romantic. The best gift we’ve ever given him, he says.”
They continued buying Hermione new dresses as she outgrew her old ones, letting Draco choose the colors he wanted to see her in. He knew she loved red and pink, so he requested those most often. On her birthday – he had made her tell him her birthday, though she had been shy – he asked his parents to let him pick a gift for her. They went to the jeweler and Draco chose a silver bracelet with a dragon on it, and she cried when he gave it to her.
“Tell me more about what it was like at the big house,” Draco asked later that night. He had kept asking, since that first day, but Hermione never said much. He wasn’t sure why he was so curious. He wanted to know everything about her, and her time before coming to Malfoy Manor was such a mystery.
They were facing each other, each on their respective bed, whispering in the half-dark. Draco could just make out the outline of her face, the dark curls that tumbled onto the pink silk of her pillows. She was wearing the bracelet he had given her and Draco felt a warm sense of pride seeing the thin silver chain on her wrist. He took such good care of her.
Hermione started shivering.
“It was always cold,” she whispered. “But I had friends there. I miss them, sometimes.”
“Why do you want more friends? I don’t want any more friends other than you.”
Hermione thought quietly for a moment.
“Just… just to know more people, I suppose,” she said. “I only know you and your parents.”
“You know Theo as well,” Draco said. “And Vincent and Gregory.”
“They’re your friends,” she said. “They don’t even talk to me when they come over.”
“They’re just jealous. They told me they wished their parents had gotten them girls for their birthday, too.”
Hermione was silent.
“Draco… will I be your girl forever?”
“Of course. I’ll always take care of you.”
“But… but what if you want another girl? What will happen to me then?”
“I’ll never want anyone else, Hermione. Promise.”
Hermione started to shiver again, and Draco clambered over into her bed as he sometimes did when she had nightmares. He pulled up the covers to tuck her in more tightly and she stilled, her breathing calming.
“You don’t have to worry,” he said. “You’ll see.”
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Draco and Hermione sometimes had petty squabbles, as children often do, but they did not have their first real fight until they were ten years old.
In the time that Hermione had been at Malfoy Manor, Draco had made good on his promise to take care of her. When his private lessons had started he insisted to Mother and Father that Hermione join them as well. When Mother wanted to take the family to France and leave Hermione behind Draco had thrown a fit and refused all meals until it was decided that Hermione could join after all. And when Crabbe and Goyle had tried to look up Hermione’s skirt, had pulled at her blouse and on her pigtails, Draco had hexed them with his new wand.
They went crying to their parents and Mother and Father had had to sit Draco down and have a stern talking-to with him.
“They were bothering Hermione! And Hermione doesn’t have her own wand, she couldn’t do anything, Mother.”
“Be that as it may, Draco, you must not hurt your real friends just because they don’t play nice with Hermione.”
Draco paused, confused.
“Hermione is my real friend, Mother. She’s my best friend.”
Narcissa and Lucius looked at each other. Lucius leaned forward.
“Son – we’ve been meaning to speak with you about this. Hermione makes you very happy, we know that, and that makes us happy as well. But you’re getting older. Hermione is meant to be a toy for you, a pet. She’s not… as important. As your other friends.”
Draco stood up suddenly. He felt very warm – both angry and confused.
“Hermione is the most important friend I have. I promised I would always take care of her, and I’m going to.”
“She was meant to keep you company as a little boy, Draco. She’s not going to be able to join you at Hogwarts next year, or help in your future career. She’s a plaything.”
“Lucius, let’s not say it like that…”
Draco wasn’t sure when he had started crying, but he wiped furiously at his face and found his sleeve wet.
“I don’t understand! You got her for me—how come you got her for me and now you’re saying she’s not a real friend?”
“This is our fault, dear,” Narcissa said. “We just wanted you to be happy. You were such a lonely boy. We thought giving you Hermione would help, we didn’t think about how it would be when it was time for you to leave her behind.”
“You must have known it was unusual to have her? Your other friends have muggleborn maids and servants, nobody else has a pet girl like you, Draco. Everyone warned us against it and now I see wh—”
Draco ran out of the room, not caring what else his father had to say. He didn’t have much time, had to tell Hermione right away. She was in their room, sitting on her bed in a little pink robe and brushing her hair. She sat up straight when she saw Draco’s tears, dropping her brush.
“Draco? What’s wrong?”
“We have to run away, ‘Mione. We’ve got to—I don’t know how we’ll—but we’ll figure something out. I’m meant to go to school next year and you’re not allowed to come.”
Hermione slumped back down onto her heels. One look at her told Draco everything: she had already known.
“Oh Draco,” she said softly. “It’s alright. I—I’ll be here, and you can write me letters.”
“No! How are you okay with this? We’re supposed to be best friends!”
“Your parents talked to me already,” she said quietly. “I’m going to stay here and help out with managing your estate. I want to be helpful. And—and Hogwarts doesn’t allow muggleborns. I’m lucky I’ll be working for your family, working with numbers and magic maybe, and not as a maid or worse.”
“No, we have to leave. We’re running away.”
Hermione frowned, her lower lip wobbling a little.
“How do you think I feel, Draco? I’m–I’m smart too, you know. I could be great at Hogwarts. But I can’t go. And if I won’t cry about it you shouldn’t either.”
Draco shook his head back and forth, refusing to listen to her. He started opening her closet, pulling out her clothes and shoving them into her trunk. Piles of satin, lace and velvet overflowed from the sides.
“Y-you’re mine. I make the rules, Hermione, and I want us to run away together.”
“Draco, stop. Where will we even go? What will we do? Be homeless?”
Draco’s vision was blurry from tears. He choked on his breaths, struggling to stay in control of himself. He never cried in front of anyone like this other than Hermione. With Hermione he was always open.
“I can’t leave you, ‘Mione,” he said. “You’re my best friend. I love you.”
Draco sobbed harder, his shoulders shaking. Hermione sat down on the floor next to him and put her hands on his, stilling his movements.
“I love you too, Draco. I’ll still be here. Promise.”
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Draco’s parents started sending him to a Mind Healer after his breakdown. He went without a fight, all his energy going towards figuring out how to bring Hermione with him to Hogwarts. She may have given up, accepted the way things were, but he had not.
The Mind Healer was an older man named Healer Zinc. He asked Draco probing questions about his feelings for Hermione, his fears about leaving her.
“Aren’t you excited to meet other girls at Hogwarts? Purebloods?”
Draco scowled at him.
“Hermione is the only girl I want. I don’t care that she’s not pureblood.”
“Is Hermione your girlfriend?”
Draco felt his face heat. His parents had asked him the same question, and he knew Crabbe, Goyle and Theo made little jokes about it. Assumed that he and Hermione were… together.
“N-no. She’s my best friend. We’re best friends.”
“Do you want her to be your girlfriend?”
Draco squirmed in his chair. When they were younger it had been easy. Chaste kisses on the cheek, tucking her in at night. He had recently started wanting to kiss her on the mouth. But she was so pure and sweet. He did not want to scare her.
“No.”
Healer Zinc gave him a little look, like he could read Draco’s mind, but did not push the subject.