Poison Ivy, a harry potter fanfic

Poison Ivy

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AN: So, this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. And it probably won't be that good 'cause I just recently got re-obsessed with all things HP. But maybe you'll like it? Anyway, this is a Dramione story, well, actually it's a love triangle between Draco and Hermione and Ron, with some Harry/Ginny thrown in. But the main pairing is Draco/Hermione. I know I have a bunch of fics to update and I will get around to it eventually, but right now this story is my main focus. Enjoy!

Chapter One

The war was over. Draco Malfoy stared out of the rain-soaked cab window as he left the glittering lights of New York City behind.

A strange, foreign sense of loneliness engulfed him. New York had been his home for the past five years; he had fled there shortly after the war started, not wanting to choose sides. He had lived as a Muggle, taking the name Drake Mansfield, and leaving behind all of his former self.

Yes, at the age of twenty-two, Draco Malfoy had finally grown-up. But now, he was to return to England, to the Malfoy manor, and restore the power and wealth his family had once had. His father's dying words were, "The name Malfoy is a powerful one, Draco. Keep it that way." And as much as he had loathed his father, Draco felt indebted to him, so he was returning to Wiltshire. With a sigh, he briefly wondered if there was anything left of his home. It had been left to him, along with the entire Malfoy fortune, which his father had told him, wasn't very much anymore. Draco felt no remorse at the thought of his home in ruins, because it wasn't really a home. The only home he had ever known was Hogwarts; the only father he had ever known had been Albus Dumbledore. And he had tryed to kill him. Tryed to kill him because he was afraid of his own death. You didn't disobey the Dark Lord.

There were times that Draco wished he had been brought up like Ron Weasley. With loving parents, siblings, a home that he actually thought of as home, and no need to worry about Voldemort killing you. Okay, so maybe Ron did kind of have to worry about that last part. But at least he wasn't forced to serve Voldemort! No, that was Draco's job. Or at least it was.

Now the Dark Lord was dead and peace had returned to the wizarding world.

Suddenly, a realization hit Draco smack in the face. His parents were gone, dead, killed by the Dark Lord. He had no one. But just as soon as the thought came, it was gone. Draco didn't need anyone to take care of him. He was Draco Malfoy! He would be fine.

As the cab turned into JFK airport, another thought came to Draco's mind. This time, he chuckled. What was he doing here at an airport when he could just Apparate to Wiltshire? Had he forgotten that he was a wizard in his time living among the Muggles?

Draco paid the cab driver and started for the doors of the airport, luggage in hand. As soon as the cab had driven off, he changed course and walked around to the side of the building where it was dark. The rain poured down on him, soaking him, but he ignored it. When he was in the shadows, he retrieved his wand from his duffel bag and slipped it in his pocket, along with the key to the manor. After a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, he Apparated.

A few seconds later, he was standing in front of Malfoy manor. The building was intact and still stood tall and proud, but an air of emptiness surrounded it. Draco walked up the drive with quick steps, ignoring the feeling of dread growing in his chest. When he reached the door, he pulled the key out of his pocket with shaky hands and unlocked the door. Stepping inside the darkened foyer, he fumbled for the light switch. When he flicked it on and realized nothing happened, he pulled his wand out. "Lumos," he said and a beam of light shot from the tip of his wand.

"Well, Draco, have you decided to return?" Draco shouted as he heard his dead father's voice and jumped, startled. He took a deep breath and walked into the living room that was off the foyer.

"Hello, father," he said to the large portrait hanging above the fireplace.

Lucius glared at him. "Where have you been?" he said coldly.

"New York," Draco stated.

"New York?" Lucius repeated. "You are a coward!"

"Am I?" Draco countered. "Or am I just smart enough to not fight in a war that could kill me?"

"The Dark Lord was very displeased with you, Draco."

"The Dark Lord is dead."

"Yes, and they said that last time, too. Didn't they? He will never be dead, Draco. And when he returns to power again, he will be after you."

"I'm shaking." And with that, Draco turned and walked away, ignoring his father calling after him. He was well on his way to his bedroom when a house elf suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Mr. Malfoy," the elf squeaked. "If I had known that you would be coming, I would have cleaned up."

"That's quite alright, Furlen. Besides, I've been meaning to make some arrangements."

"Arrangements? To the manor?"

"Yes. Starting with replacing the portrait of my father that hangs above the fireplace with the portrait of my mother."

"Yes, my lord." The house elf scurried off and Malfoy smiled for the first time in five years.

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"Hermione!"

Hermione Granger looked up from her book with a startled expression. "I'm sorry, Harry. What were you saying?"

"Malfoy. Malfoy's returned to England." Harry Potter turned the page of The Daily Prophet and continued reading, this time aloud.

After a lengthy disappearance, Draco Malfoy has returned to his family's manor. His father was rumored to be a follower of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and Draco, now twenty-two, was also rumored to be a follower of You-Know-Who, starting at the young age of fourteen. He fled when the war started, apparently to the United States. Draco was taught at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardy and was in Slytherin house. No news has been discovered of his future plans.

"What a load of bull!" Ron Weasley scoffed, leaning across the table and snatching the paper out of Harry's hands. "So what if he's returned? He's a coward! We all had to fight in the war and he left just so his precious ass wouldn't get killed!" Ron ran a finger across the diamond-shaped scar on the back of his hand disdainfully. "I hate him," he announced to no one in particular. Hermione shot him a sympathetic smile and then returned to her book.

"Well, I don't care if he's returned or not," Harry said matter-of-factly. "Just as long as he doesn't come bothering us!"

"He probably thinks we're dead," Ron said. "Wish he was dead," he muttered as an afterthought.

Hermione closed her book and placed it down on the table. "Really, Ron, I hate him, too. But you shouldn't wish him dead. Think about it. Both of his parents are dead. He has no one."

Harry and Ron looked at her in shock.

"Are you out of your hum-dingering mind?" Ron exploded. "You have absolutely no reason to feel sorry for him! He's a bloody Death Eater, 'Mione!"

"I didn't say I felt sorry for him!" Hermione said hotly.

"You implied it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did-"

"Guys!" Harry rolled his eyes and stood up from the table. "Could you please go without arguing for at least five minutes?"

"No!" they said in unison.

"Fine," Harry sighed and left the kitchen. As he climbed the stairs that led to his attic bedroom in the tiny flat that he shared with his friends, his thoughts wandered to Ron's sister Ginny. He hadn't recieved a letter from her in two weeks. Usually, they would write to each other every other day, but Harry's last letter had returned unanswered. He was beginning to worry. Ginny was in Paris, studying to become an Auror, and she was supposed to come home in September. But it was September 29th and her last letter had only been two sentences long.

Harry stretched out on his bed and folded his hands behind his head, staring up at the photographs that plastered his ceiling. His gaze centered in on the one of him and Ginny, taken during his last year of Hogwarts. His arms were around her and they were both smiling happily.

Harry frowned and turned over, trying to wipe his mind of her image. If he so much as thought about her, he grew paranoid, imagining horrible things that could have happened to her. Suddenly, almost as if he had conjured it, he heard the screech of his owl Hedwig. Harry scrambled off the bed and rushed over to the window, yanking it open. Hedwig flew in and dropped a letter in Harry's hands before retiring to her cage. Harry opened the letter so quick he almost ripped it. With a smile, he began to read.

Dear Harry,

I hope this finds you well. I cannot return right now, but please don't worry, as I am fine. My training is going great and I am having lots of fun.

Ginny

Harry frowned and re-read the letter. Something wasn't right. He racked his brain for the answer as he read the letter again and again. The letter was written in Ginny's handwriting, but she always signed her letters with love. And the sentences were straightforward and stiff, not at all the way she would write them. And why couldn't she come home?

Suddenly, an angry shout and the slamming of a door broke Harry out of his thoughts. The sound of feet stomping up the stairs reached his ears and then his door was flung open. Hermione came storming in, ranting about Ron.

".......complete idjit! Saying that I have a crush on Malfoy! Oooooh, I can't stand him!" Hermione stomped her foot and shrieked.

Harry waited patiently for her to get done and then said, "Take a look at this." He handed her the letter and watched as she read it.

"You two aren't fighting, are you?"

"No! Hermione, what if she's in trouble?"

"Harry, I really don't think that-"

"Think about it! She's all alone there and-" Harry gulped. "Something could have happened to her."

"I'm sure she's fine. She might just have been in a bad mood when she wrote you."

"But-"

"Harry, there is no need for you to worry yourself over this. She's fine. Look, if she doesn't come home by December, I'll go with you to see her, okay?"

"But, that's two months away!"

"Quit worrying!" Hermione snapped and then her expression softened when Harry frowned. "Harry, she's fine, okay? She can take care of herself."

"I guess so." Harry sighed and then looked at the clock on his night stand. "Our shift starts in half an hour," he reminded Hermione and the shooed her out of the room so he could get dressed.