Sang Sacré

Chapter 17

When they returned to the flat later, hand in hand and still discussing paint colors and decor ideas, they found an elegant black owl perched by the window. Draco shot Hermione a tight-lipped smile before retrieving the parchment from the extended leg and reading it quietly.

"What is it?" Hermione asked as she fed the owl a few treats. She assumed the only people who would send an owl like this were his parents.

The look on his face told her she was right.

"Mother and Father," he sighed, absentmindedly scratching the owl beneath the chin. The owl preened and puffed out his feathers happily. "They've invited us over for dinner tomorrow night."

Hermione stiffened, stroking the feathers of the owl gently with one finger. Deep breath in, slow breath out. "Okay."

Draco shook his head, moving to write a response. "No, it's too soon, I'll tell-"

"Draco," she smiled softly at him. "It's time I faced your parents. We've been avoiding them for long enough."

Draco shook his head again, crossing the small distance between them and placing his hands on her waist. "Father can't leave the Manor, are you sure you're really ready to go back there?"

She shut her eyes, an onslaught of images overwhelming her at the idea of returning. Shattering glass on marble flooring, the intricate pattern carved into the fireplace, the slightly frayed hem of a dark-colored rug.

She immediately grabbed for her left arm, wincing in anticipation of a pain that would not come. Hermione exhaled a shaky breath through her teeth. 1, 2, 3, deep breath in. Hold it. Soft touches on her biceps drew her attention. Draco was steadily rubbing up and down slowly, and when her eyes opened they found him watching her intently.

She sighed, letting her forehead dip to his chest and his arms wound around her. His chin came to a rest at the top of her head. She felt his even breathing, his grounding touch, and she knew what she would answer.

"I don't know. But I'm willing to try, for you."

He squeezed her tighter, nuzzling into her curls, and sighed. "Only if you're sure. We'll only stay a little while and if one thing bothers you will apparate out in an instant."

She fisted his shirt, pressing her face closer into him. She breathed him in and felt herself relax into his touch.

"Just stay by my side."

The next morning, only hours before they were due at Malfoy Manor, Hermione found herself browsing the aisles of a dress shop. She was determined to look good at their official "re-meeting the parents after you got tortured in their house" dinner and nothing she had seemed to fit the occasion. Not surprisingly, it was a rather niche situation, after all.

She was wandering aimlessly if she was being honest. Nothing stood out to her and she was lost in her head about how this dinner was going to go. Would she be okay? Was she jumping the gun?

She knew that Draco meant what he said. If he felt for a second that she didn't feel safe, he would whip her out of there faster than she could blink. A part of her was determined to make sure that didn't happen though. But healing was strange. It had been two years since she was dragged into Draco's ancestral home, and she was angry with herself for not being over it yet. Two years was a long time and yet she still had horrible night terrors, flashbacks, and avoided the smell of pine like the plague.

That scent, smokey with earthy tones, would be forever ruined due to a witch riddled by insanity. She worried her bottom lip as she considered that it may not have fully been Bellatrix's fault.