Fourteen Thousand Galleons

The Fight of Her Life

THE FIGHT OF HER LIFE: THE BRIGHTEST WITCH OF HER AGE RECOVERING FROM TORTURE

Draco stares at the words and tries his best to force down the immediate reaction he feels to march into The Daily Prophet's office and curse Rita Skeeter to hell. It hasn't been twenty four hours and already the media is circling for a story. News of Rabastan Lestrange's arrest is everywhere. The WWN has been updating the story for hours – though there's no update to Hermione's condition. Potter ran off to the Ministry at first light. Draco tried to dissuade him, but he's hardheaded and so he floo'd without even allowing Draco to coerce him in more inappropriate ways.

In a shocking twist of fate, Hermione Granger finds herself living with former Death Eater and heir to massive fortune, Draco Malfoy. And, this reporter has it first, Miss Granger's lust for fame and fortune has not abated all these years, as she finds herself caught in a love triangle with The Boy Who Lived himself, Harry Potter.

He's fairly certain that Harry is going to put his foot down about Skeeter's article, but there's no point. The word is out and now it's all how they spin it. An incredibly difficult thing to do with Hermione still unconscious in his den.

"Master Draco?" Tink is by his side with a quiet pop and stares up at him from beneath the brim of a purple cap. "Can Tink be getting anything for you?"

"Please check on Hermione again and let me know if there is any change."

The elf pops away after fidgeting with the edge of her dress for a moment.

Draco sips his cup of coffee and sets the Prophet flat onto the table. He knows it's only a matter of time before there's an onslaught of backlash over the news and so his steady breaths are growing more ragged by the second. He was so sure days ago that he could tell the world he's with Potter and now with this, Draco's not so sure the world is ready for the truth of their triad.

And there's still so much they don't know. So much they can't know without Hermione awake. The orb sits near her in the den, but hasn't so much as flickered gold since they brought it back from the basement of the Lestrange Townhouse. Draco doesn't know if that caused her coma or if it actually saved her life. There are too many questions and he's not sure how he can face the thunder of the world without answers.

Former Death Eater stares back at him from the article and he curls his lips at the words. Those words will follow him around forever. Will follow them . How can he possibly put them through the horrible connotations of that particular title?

"Draco?"

He sets down the half-drunk coffee and takes a steadying breath. The voice is sweet enough, but he is more than familiar with his mother's particular brand of fire. She pops in around the corner dressed every bit the part of a wealthy estate wife. It fooled many people, but never those closest to her. He stands to greet her, a hand tucked casually within his pocket and a slight dip of his chin.

"Mother."

"I see there is no change in her."

What she really means: is the article true ?

Draco nods, answering the subtext. It is.

"Shouldn't she be tended to at St. Mungo's?"

Translated: is this really such a good idea?

"Merlin himself couldn't change my mind." He offers her a seat and tucks her into the table like the proper gentleman he is raised to be. "Why are you here, Mother?"

Narcissa chuckles, a hand to her chest as if she's offended he even thinks to ask such an abrasive question. "I should think that's obvious, darling. The Daily Prophet quite clearly stated that you faced off against an old... acquaintance."