They didn’t stay at the chateau long—Blaise had always been too fidgety to stay in one place, he thrived in the bustling streets of the city. Draco had always thought he would be like that but since he’d settled with Harry he’d realised he needed the peace a lot more than he cared to admit. It had suited them well, since Harry had always been running from the next press scandal. Come to think of it, they’d spent most of their marriage running from something or other.
He kissed Pansy on both cheeks as they parted ways, with promises of coming back here once he’d made the place structurally sound again so she could begin her designing. He thought she could use something to occupy her spare time. She was of course highly busy with whatever it was she was doing in Dubai of course, but reading between the lines Draco was sure much of what she told him what somewhat embellished. Twice now she’d taken last minute trips to visit him. The Pansy of five years ago would never have had the time to drop everything with no notice at all. He wasn’t oblivious. Still, she was ever the proud Slytherin.
When Draco arrived home, he found an owl waiting for him. Frowning deeply at the unexpected mail, he let it in, hoping that his muggle neighbours hadn’t noticed them. He realised it was in fact Eltanin and his heart picked up with worry. He hoped Teddy was writing to him to tell him how great things were going and not that he was missing home too much.
Draco,
I got sorted into Hufflepuff! That’s ok, isn’t it? There’s a boy in Slytherin who says Hufflepuff is the leftover house but that’s not true, is it? The Slytherins seem mean, but I know they can’t all be mean because you’re a Slytherin and you’re the best.
Mr Filch gave me detention already because I accidently changed my hair colour and scared him. People don’t seem to like him much.
It’s ok though because I have this really cool new friend. He’s called Callum and he says my hair is the coolest thing he’s ever seen. He’s in Hufflepuff too so we have all the same lessons. My favourite so far is charms, but I like herbology too.
What was your favourite lesson when you were at school?
I have to go, it’s the first quidditch match of the year and it’s Ravenclaw against Gryffindor. Harry says Gryffindor are the best, but I think he forgot he doesn’t play for them anymore. Did you know they’ve been last for the past five years? I’m not sure if I like quidditch yet.
I love you,
Teddy.
Draco grinned at Teddy’s ability to flit from subject to subject so quickly. He remembered when he tried to write his first letters to his father, all of which he refused to respond to until he thought the style sufficiently succinct. Draco would never be like that with Teddy. He wrote a quick response, assuring Teddy that Hufflepuff was a perfect fit for him and that he was very proud of how well he was settling in. He let Eltanin rest for a while since he knew the new owl didn’t have much experience with such long-distance flights.
He was almost worried that he hadn’t heard from Harry. He shouldn’t be, since that was the entire reason for his move, but considering Harry’s previous behaviour it seemed odd. He’d already barged his way into Draco’s home on multiple occasions over issues much more minor than this. Had Harry really not noticed Draco’s departure? He found that unlikely, especially after the mess they’d made after their stupid night out. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d actually slept with Harry again. He had to admit, he was almost disappointed that he didn’t remember any of it. He couldn’t deny Harry had always been a damn good shag, even if he was pants at most other things.
He also still hadn’t figured out who’d stepped in at Gringotts. He’d already owled asking for information on who was involved in the decision and as he’d expected, the goblins had been incredibly tight-lipped about the whole affair. Still, it jangled Draco’s nerves more than a little knowing someone other than Hermione had known about his departure. Hermione was a lot of things, but deceitful wasn’t one and she probably didn’t hold that kind of sway with the goblins. Kingsley, maybe? He could certainly pull strings. Would he actually be willing to do that for Draco? Again, unlikely.
Draco spend the next few weeks visiting the chateau daily, helping Spungen repair the internal fixtures and the subsidence. He spent hours trawling the narrow-cobbled back streets of wizard Paris, looking for books on architectural charms. He repaired the cracks in the ceilings, the damp on the walls, he reattached chandeliers and high-vaulted curtain rails. He learned specialist restorations charms for the portraits, carefully siphoning off layers of dust and debris without damaging the structure of the paint beneath. He re-varnished the frames and replaced their hangings.
A week into his overhaul, the first couple of inhabitants began to return to the smaller frames, eager to find out who was present in the chateau once again. Draco found the portraits became the closest human contact he had; they told him all about the history of the chateau and the generations of Malfoys who had lived there. Draco was surprised to discover that most of his paternal ancestors were in fact nothing like his father, and highly disapproved of his actions once Draco told them what had become of their lineage.
Draco learned that there had once been a team of thirty house elves who serviced the chateau. Its use had dwindled in the late 1930s and early 1940s due to the family’s associations with Grindlewald. The last Malfoy to step on the chateau’s grounds had been his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy in the late 1970s, who had tried to make the chateau look abandoned in the face of Ministry raids during the first rise of Voldemort. He had never intended the chateau to remain empty for so long, and he hadn’t really had to do much to make it look the way it had when Draco had arrived; the perpetual confusion of the Malfoy family allegiances had weakened the family magic and the chateau had decayed largely of its own accord.
Draco wasn’t solely interested in his new estate however. Some days he really didn’t feel like straining his eyes of oil canvases or dealing with yet another boggart in the closet. He also spent time in the flat he was renting, trying out new potions. He decided, despite his growing love for restoration, that if he were ever to get an apothecary up and running, it would specialise solely in mental health. Draco didn’t believe that mental health problems should be dealt with only with pills and potions, he firmly believed in the benefits of a strong support network, mind healers and even simple things like trying to smile and have a positive mental attitude. Because of this, some of his potions had no medicinal properties whatsoever. Some were muscle relaxants or sleep aides, some were herbal concoctions to induce calm or aid sleep. His knowledge of herbology grew in leaps and bounds, not that he hadn’t had an acceptable amount of knowledge to begin with, and it had even led to the occasional exchange of owls with Neville Longbottom, who fully supported Draco’s venture into mental healthcare after his own experiences in the war.
Draco felt more like himself in his first month in France than he ever had in England. He didn’t pretend as though he didn’t miss his friends, and he sorely missed his little wolf, but it had been the right decision to get away from it all.
‘Draco, I owe you an apology.’ Hermione said. They sat in his flat on a bitterly cold, later October afternoon, cocooned in woollen blankets and scarves and plied with endless amounts of tea. Draco had slowly been reducing his coffee intake, realising how bad it had been for his anxiety.
‘You don’t owe me any such thing.’ He said honestly. He didn’t resent Hermione for trying to make him stay, he understood now why she had thought it so important, and he would never have confronted half of the issues he had if she hadn’t stopped him from running away.
‘No, I do. It was selfish of me to make you stay in a place you weren’t happy in, I didn’t realise how bad things really were. I would never have suggested it if I’d known.’ Hermione had come to visit him after a three-day conference in Brussels where she’d been debating whether European magical authorities had the right to share information on known criminal activities between states, or whether it was an infringement of human rights of people who may be suspected but not charged with anything. Draco thought it was fascinating, and he admired her drive and passion on the subject immensely.
‘Hermione,’ he said gently, taking her small hand in his large one. ‘We could sit here and shift blame all day, but it won’t change anything and it won’t make either of us feel any better. What’s done is done and all we can do is learn from it.’
She smiled at him warmly.
‘You know, you’ve grown more in these last five months than I think you have in years.’
Draco pulled his hand back to take another swig of tea and mulled over her words. Did that mean he hadn’t grown as a person during his marriage? If coming to France and finding himself had been such a good thing for him, did that mean Harry was bad? He didn’t want to believe that his marriage to Harry had been a mistake. When they were good together they were so good. In the few minutes Draco had withdrawn into his mind, Hermione had sensed a shift in the mood.
‘He misses you, you know.’ Hermione said quietly. Draco looked at her. ‘It’s true. He was furious when he realised you’d just upped and left. I’ve never seen him so bad. He nearly destroyed your flat when he found it empty. Don’t worry though, I caught him in time.’ She added hastily, acknowledging Draco’s alarmed expression.
‘He always did have a temper on him.’ Draco wasn’t quite sure why he’d decided to talk about Harry as if he was past tense, but he went with it.
‘I told him not to contact you.’ She said, a little abruptly, but answering his next question nonetheless. ‘I thought you needed the space.’
‘I did tell him that. I told you that too. Hell, I think I told everyone that.’ Draco wasn’t angry, not anymore. He knew his friends just wanted what they thought was best for him. At the end of the day, the only one who really knew him was himself.
‘I know. I guess we’re all just suckers for a happy ending.’ She sighed. ‘Hey, it’s getting late, do you mind if I stay for tonight?’
‘Of course not. Take my room, I’ll take the sofa. You should floo Ron though, let him know in case he worries.’ Draco offered her a tired smile and gave her some privacy to floo- call her husband while he went to get some spare blankets for himself. It took him a few minutes to find them since he hadn’t needed them since he’d moved in.
He passed Hermione again in the tiny little hallway and she caught his arm as she passed.
‘You’re a good man Draco, and you deserve to be happy. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself.’ He kissed her cheek gently.
‘Thanks Hermione. You’re not so bad yourself.’
‘Goodnight, Draco.’
‘Night.’
Chapter 11
When Draco stirred the following morning, his warming charms had dropped overnight, and his body temperature potion had worn off. Hermione was already up and dressed and finishing her morning tea, eager to get home. He didn’t blame her; international portkeys were a drain on your magic and she probably missed Hugo and Rose terribly. Draco was the same with Teddy when he was that age.
‘Sorry, Draco. I really have to shoot.’ She said when Draco wandered in, still in his pyjamas.
‘It’s fine, Hermione. I understand. You’d better attack those flame-headed kids with hugs from me though. It’s the least you can do.’
She smiled at him widely.
‘Of course I will. They adore you.’
He rolled his eyes at her.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t ruin the famous Malfoy image. Your secret is safe with me. There is one thing I wanted you to know before I left though.’ She said, turning away from him and looking out the window.
‘What is it?’ He said wearily. Hermione was brash and bold, and it wasn’t very often she didn’t come right out with it.
‘Well, you see, you know that letter you got from Gringotts? The one that told you about the estate?’
He frowned.
‘How did you know about that?’ He asked her coldly. An angry flush crept up the back of her neck.
‘I saw it on your kitchen table when I went after Harry.’ She said. He wasn’t sure it she was just embarrassed or if she was actually just an excellent liar.
