Shifting his weight around from arm to arm, Draco finally gathered enough strength to pull himself off the ground. Green Dragon? he repeated over and over in his mind. Green.... Dragon?
Chanting the name to himself, he took a few steps forward, making his way to the large wooden door. He contemplated his next move in the frosty silence, debating with himself whether he should knock, or just open the door. Knocking won’t do me any good. It doesn’t seem like anyone is awake, now does it? he thought, angrily. Then I suppose I should just go ahead and open“
His thoughts were cut off by a loud bang as the door swung open.
“Why, hello there,” a deep voice slithered through the darkness. It sounded almost rusty to Draco. With just three words he’d already heard the creaks and roughness of an aging man. It reminded Draco of an un-oiled door hinge, creaking and squeaking annoyingly.
“Hello,” Draco grunted tiredly, a dab of confusion clouding his conduct.
“I take it you’ve lost your way, and need some help. Am I right, boy?”
Draco stared at the old man with an unbelieving glare. How did he know that? Draco wondered, trying to sweep the thought to the back of his mind.
“Not much for words, are you? Alright then, come along, get into the light; let me get a good look at you.”
The mysterious man grabbed Draco by the arm, and pulled him in the front door. Draco gasped wordlessly in pain at the man’s sudden action, flinching from his firm grip as he found himself disappearing down a dimly lit hall.
When they finally made their way into the main room, bright light stunned Draco’s eyes. After blinking a few times, he looked all around the room, absorbing everything in sight. To his left was a large staircase, the white marble stairs lined with faded gold trimming, contrasting grandly with the rest of the dark décor. To his right was a sitting room, adorned with long black tables and comfy looking black couches and chairs, currently occupied by a few mature, yet distressed looking witches and wizards. Just ahead of Draco was a large counter, and behind it what, appeared to be, a small kitchen. The walls all around were covered with small paintings. All together, it gave on the appearance of someone’s home, or, at the very least, a friendly atmosphere.
What kind of abnormal place is this? Draco thought. Suddenly a picture of the Leaky Cauldron appeared in his mind. He shook the thought away and concluded that this place would do for the night. He looked back to his companion from the doorway, unable to help the distasteful expression that crossed his face.
The man before him was very old, with a beard so white it would’ve challenged Dumbledore’s. His robes were of dark navy, with a slight gold lining. He was short and slightly hunched over, but as Draco had already learned (painfully, he thought), he was a strong man, with a firm grip. His eyes were large and seemed to be absorbing Draco’s appearance. With every shift of discomfort Draco made, the man’s eyes shot to the spot “ the leg, the arm, the hip that he moved “ and analyzed it. He was probably wondering what exactly had happened, the reason behind his disheveled appearance.
Oh, damn. What have I done to deserve this? Draco thought disbelievingly as he stared back at the scrutinizing old man. Draco didn’t care enough to challenge his questioning gaze, only wishing to be suited with a room. So he stood quietly for a minute or two, being scanned from top to bottom, when suddenly the strange man started talking.
“Right, then,” the man spoke, breaking the stillness of the air. “My name is Blenkinsop Waterbut. Before you say anything, I honestly don’t know what my mum, bless her soul, was thinking when she named me. But, I like to believe I live up to my name. You can call me Blenk for short, alright lad?” Blenk looked at Draco, questioning to see if he was still following.
Draco nodded, and let the man continue with his introduction.
“As you probably read, you’ve arrived at the Green Dragon. Not everyone makes it here, mind you. Only a select few; consider yourself fortunate. I am the owner of this here place. Here at the Green Dragon, we’re what you need us to be. We’ve got rooms, we’ve got a kitchen. We’ve got everything your normal pub would have, and more.” He smiled at Draco, giving him an approving look, as though his eyes were trying to soak his appearance into his memory.
Draco just blinked at him. He didn’t really care what the old man had to say; he needed a room, a bath and a decent meal. And he needed it now.
“Would you mind fitting me with a room, and possibly a meal?”
Blenk looked as if he had been expecting the question. “You’re quite to the point, aren’t you? Very ‘down-to-it’. No nonsense,” he murmured to himself.
Draco rolled his eyes. Does he ever stop talking?
He didn’t ask for Draco’s bags; the old man surely would have noticed that he didn’t have any. He just gestured for Draco to follow him up the stairs. Draco trailed Blenk, slumping up each step, grabbing onto the railing as if it were the only thing keeping him standing. The spiraling staircase was dizzying, causing Draco to pause and catch his breath at every floor. Draco realized, rather disdainfully, that each floor had a different theme of colors. Strange, he thought, this man has too much time on his hands…
Once they reached the sixth floor, Blenk shoved his hand into his pocket, which proceeded to clink and jingle. After a few moments of clattering, Draco’s impatience overwhelmed him. He began to tap his already exhausted foot and roll his eyes repeatedly. Finally, Blenk smiled and pulled out the correct key.
“An impatient one, eh? No nonsense, impatient; makes sense,” Blenk nodded to himself as if piecing together a puzzle as he gently pushed the key into place.
The lock clanged open and Blenk swung the door open wide. Draco pushed past him, grabbed the keys from his hands, and slammed the door in Blenk’s face. On the other side he could hear Blenk ‘hmm-ing’ to himself, his footsteps dwindling away as he quietly spoke to himself, murmuring, “Impatient, no nonsense, temper…” as though he were memorizing a list.
Draco looked at the bed and sighed, dropping the keys on the floor. Forgetting his tattered, dirty clothing, he fell onto the bed and shut his eyes, letting the soft, inviting mattress soothe him into slumber.
***
Clunk.
Draco inhaled suddenly, awakened from his sleep. Without opening his eyes, he strained his ears for the source of the sound. He realized they were footsteps, and quickly recalled the previous night. Cracking open one eye, he searched the room. The outline of a slightly hunched form stood over by the dark maroon curtains to his left.
“Rise and shine, boy!” a loud, cheery voice interrupted Draco’s last moments of lonesome bliss. With a smile, Blenk grasped the curtains and pulled them apart rapidly. Sunlight burst into the room, blinding Draco. He groaned in discomfort.
Blenk smiled at him. “Late sleeper, eh? Well, wake up, boy. I can tell that you’re tired, and you’d much rather not have me here right about now; it’s all in that grim little frown of yours. But breakfast ends in an hour. Get moving.”
Draco got up rather unwillingly after Blenk left the room, dressed in some clothing he found in the bathroom, and made way downstairs. When he reached the bottom floor he saw a group of wizards scattered around the sitting room, each seemingly sad and distraught, just like those he’d seen the previous night. Walking quickly past their dreary faces, he sat himself down at a chair in front of the counter, waiting for a waiter to help him.
“Can I help you, lad?”
Draco groaned inwardly at the familiar voice. He sure does get around, Draco thought as he looked up. Standing directly in front of him, on the opposite side of the counter, was Blenk.
“Yes, err, I was just … hungry,” he concluded lamely.
“Surprisingly enough, I think I got that part!” Blenk said with a laugh. Draco flashed an annoyed smirk at him. The man really had a way of getting on his nerves. To Draco’s exasperation, Blenk didn’t walk away like a good owner and get him food. No, he stood rooted to the spot and stared at Draco head on.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked cheerily, prodding Draco further into frustration.
“Fine,” Draco stated in a firm, curt tone.
“So, boy, what’s your name, anyway?” Blenk asked, not discouraged by Draco’s unfriendliness.
“Draco.”
“What kind of name is that? Oh, well, who I am to talk!” he joyfully chuckled. When Draco didn’t respond, he spoke again.
“Not much of a question and answer person, are you?”
Draco sighed in frustration. He glared at Blenk, challenging him, asking ‘What do you think?’ with his eyes.
Understanding flooded Blenk’s face, yet still he persisted.
“So what brings you to the Green Dragon?”
“The urge to Apparate where death comes by nosy questions.”
Blenk laughed heartily and looked at Draco again, almost as if re-evaluating him. He’d better stop staring at me or he’s going to regret it… Draco thought menacingly.
“So? Why?” Blenk pressed.
Draco grit his teeth. “Because,” he dragged out the word, “I needed to get away from my father for a little while, alright? I Apparated away, I ended up on that road out there. End of story.”
“What happened with your father? Are you alright?” Blenk just didn’t know when to stop.
“Do I look like I’m alright? Did I look alright last night? What do you think he did?” Draco shot back, testily.
“You look like you need to calm down a bit there, boy! Let me get you some food.”
Blenk nodded contently with all this new information, his eyes swelling with an inkling of understanding as he walked off to gather breakfast.
Draco arched an eyebrow and rolled his eyes as Blenk left his side. After a few minutes, he began tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter when something moved suddenly past the corner of his eye. He turned his head towards an open window, just in time to see a brown head of curly hair walk past. Draco looked on, astonished, and leaned forwards to see her face. Oh, good Lord. Is it really her?
He continued staring through the window, his mind reeling with memories from just a month ago.
They had both been living their separate lives after Hogwarts. They hadn’t crossed paths, even throughout the war. They had avoided each other quite well, never before seeing one another… not until that day.
Draco was out on his own, one of his once-in-a-blue-moon outings from Malfoy Manner. He had just finished a meal at the Three Broomsticks, gathering his belongings as he dropped a few coins onto the table, eyes focused on his feet as he made way to the door. He didn’t look up until he roughly smashed into someone, sending them both falling into the snow outside the door.
Apologizing gruffly, Draco had swiftly picked himself up, reaching out his hand to whomever he had knocked over. When he felt a small hand slip into his, he looked up, astonished. Grasping his hand was none other than Hermione Granger. He stared at her openly, not having seen her for over four years. They stayed like that for a few moments; hand in hand, frozen in time as memories of long ago zoomed in their minds. Suddenly, both of them were pulled back into reality. He withdrew his hand once she got to her feet, nodded and whispered, “Good day, Granger,” walking quickly in the other direction, never looking back.
Understanding Brings Peace by Sarakime
Chapter Notes: Thanks, once again, to my wonderful beta Ashley (Gryffinpuff) for betaing this! PLEASE, read and review!