AN: Well, it's been a few years. But here I am, with a new story and all. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE
Dumbledore watched as Hermione Granger's parents gingerly situated themselves at a grimy old table near the door of Hog's Head. Feeling out of place in the shady pub, they left their coats on, speaking together in hushed tones as if raised voices would have them automatically thrown out.
And they were sensible to worry, especially so soon after the end of the war. The tension in the pub, though only inhabited at the moment by its few stray usuals, was thick enough to cast an ominous aura over its already dismal settings.
Dumbledore left his vigil at the bar, approaching the Grangers before the surly-looking headless monk sitting one table over could flip out at them for no reason. They were a handsome couple, Dumbledore noted as they spotted him and stood up to greet him. Evelyn Granger was a lovely woman of medium height with a soft figure and a face that was a more mature, slightly lined version of her daughter's. Brent Granger, on the other hand, cut an impressive figure looming over his wife, his face a stoic mask with dark, quizzical eyebrows set above equally dark brown eyes. He did not smile as he shook Dumbledore's hand, though his grip was enthusiastic and firm.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Professor Dumbledore," Mrs. Granger said warmly. "Hermione has told us so much about you and we are so thankful that you accepted our daughter into Hogwarts all those years ago... We are so very indebt to you, sir."
"Yes, quite," said Mr. Granger in a deep yet quiet voice not out of place with his general appearance. Dumbledore smiled vaguely, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Aah, of course... It is likewise a pleasure to be meeting the parents of one of Hogwarts's greatest students," he said, neatly side-stepping the potentially awkward topic. "We are expecting another party, but I do believe our wait would be much more comfortable in a private room. It is not wise to linger by thresholds of shady pubs in these dark times," Dumbledore said gravely, despite the even merrier twinkle in his eyes.
So saying, he led the curious, though not at all surprised, Grangers down a side hall into a dimly lit private audience room. The chamber was furnished with a single square scrubbed wooden table surrounded by six chairs. The Grangers situated themselves on the far side of the table facing the door, shedding their coats as the room, though quite gloomy, began to warm from the crackling heat emitting from the large fireplace. Settled, they turned to Dumbledore expectantly.
"Please do make yourselves comfortable. I shall be back in a jiffy," said Dumbledore before promptly leaving the room with a swish of his magnificent midnight blue robes, their embroidered stars glittering in the rosy firelight.
Evelyn Granger looked at her husband, perplexed. He merely shook his head, his features once more set, though an expression of equal confusion present on his intense brow.
They spoke quietly while waiting for Dumbledore's return, discussing what could possibly be so important to merit a meeting with the esteemed headmaster. Upon receiving Dumbledore's owl the week previous, they had asked Hermione about it. Their daughter had not been aware of such proceedings, which left them further puzzled. Nevertheless, they had quickly replied to the headmaster's post, agreeing on the set date.
"You don't think th–" Brent Granger ventured before trailing off when Dumbledore, followed by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, reentered.
Brent stood abruptly, nearly knocking his chair over. An odd, yet quite distinctive rush of animosity had pooled in his gut upon the sight of Lucius Malfoy. He had, to his memory, never seen this pale skinned, fair haired, distastefully haughty man before in his life, and yet immediately had felt disdain for him. Trying to dissipate his unfounded aggression, especially after a disapproving look from his wife, he schooled his dark expression to one of polite interest. It had not, however, escape the notice of Lucius Malfoy, who likewise had felt a sudden feral desire for violence when he had laid eyes on Brent Granger.
"And what, pray tell, is the objective of our meeting with..." Lucius paused delicately, as if searching for a polite word appropriate for the derogatory meaning he wished to employ. "These Muggles," he finished in his cold drawl.
"If you would be seated, Lucius, and you too Narcissa dear, I shall gladly tell you," Dumbledore replied evenly, gesturing towards the two empty seats opposite the Grangers.
Quite reluctantly, and with no deficiency of ill-disguised disgust, the Malfoys complied and situated themselves on the straight-backed wooden chairs facing the Grangers.
Dumbledore commenced the introductions. "Brent, Evelyn, meet Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Lucius, Narcissa, meet Mr. and Mrs. Granger. As you surely are aware already, you're children, Draco and Hermione, attend Hogwarts together."
There was recognition on the Grangers' faces upon hearing the Malfoy name, for they had heard it many a time when Hermione had written or ranted to them. Brent could not hide his contempt for the other party.
Dumbledore paused, standing behind the lone chair of the third side of the square table, gazing over his half-moon spectacles at the two polar opposite couples seated before him. Evelyn and Narcissa were looking at him intently, though their husbands were not. Rather, Lucius Malfoy and Brent Granger were engaged in quite the staring contest. They glared at each other from across the table, both willing his gaze to spontaneously produce daggers with which to stab the other violently. Such was the intensity of the animosity in the room, which, despite being entirely unfounded, was quite palpable, and served as a rather noisy and obese elephant harrumphing in the room.
Dumbledore seated himself.
"You must all be wondering why I have gathered you here today," continued the wizened headmaster, as if there were no awkwardness weighing down the atmosphere. The two men finally broke their gazes and turned their attentions to the matter which had puzzled them ever since they had gotten Dumbledore's owl.
"It is to discuss the peace movement, which, as you know, we have been committed to since the end of the war, and your respective children, the fates of which are implicitly intertwined."
Dumbledore's gaze passed from one side of the table to the other, studying the two couples intently. Within this brief pause, he had evaluated the state of mind of the four seated before him and decided to proceed as planned.
"The war has taken its toll on the entire world, wizarding and nonmagical alike. Peace is... difficult to achieve after any such war. As you know, Voldemort–"
Narcissa shuddered slightly at the name.
"–is dead, as is his cause. There are those of his remaining supporters who still refuse to accept that their leader has been vanquished."
Lucius made a disgruntled noise, as if wanting to interrupt.
Dumbledore plowed on. "It seems as if they are... waiting for a sign; they are not willing to completely abandon the cause until they get the 'go-ahead,' so to speak, from someone of prominence."
A shred of understanding crept its way onto Lucius's features, though did not completely solidify. It was as if his brow was waiting for a single extra piece of information to clear its confusion lines.
"Society is fragile at the moment–"
Both Narcissa and Lucius raised their eyebrows at this. Even Evelyn and Brent managed to roll their eyes; they knew from Hermione that the wizarding community at the moment was quite obviously still shaken from the war.
"It is my belief," continued Dumbledore delicately, "that if some sort of exemplar were made to show unity between the two factions, society would follow suit, and peace could eventually be found."
"The unity of a young man and a young woman from opposing sides of the schism may very well be the solution to all of society's prejudices." Dumbledore paused once more, the gravity of what he was about to say hanging thickly in the air.
The Grangers stared blankly at the headmaster, not quite understanding what he was getting at. On the other end of the table, realization suddenly dawned on Lucius, but before he could open his mouth, Dumbledore continued.
"Say, if a recent supporter of Voldemort were to wed an adamant anti-Voldemort advocate–"
Lucius could not continue his silence any longer. "Now see here, Dumbledore, if you are suggesting that my son marry the daughter of mere–"
The Grangers looked startled at the mention of marriage. As he began to understand the significance of Dumbledore's words and the disgust behind Lucius's, Brent could not help his outrage, though he still did not quite comprehend the entire meaning of Dumbledore's vague speech.
"Please, Lucius," Dumbledore cut in, quiet and solemn as ever, "if you would kindly humor an old man." His blue eyes twinkled yet.
"It is my belief that if Draco Malfoy, the son of a previous well-known Death Eater, and Hermione Granger, the Muggleborn best friend to Harry Potter, were to wed–"
"Wed?" It was Brent this time that jumped up, although Lucius and Narcissa were close seconds; their protests, however, were drowned out by Brent's singularly angry voice. "You cannot possibly think that I would allow my daughter to marry the boy who has tormented her all through her childhood!" Brent made to continue, but Evelyn laid her hand upon his arm placatingly, willing him to reseat himself.
"Let him finish, Brent," she commanded quietly. And he, although loath to complied, did.
"If they were to marry," Dumbledore continued, his gaze silencing all other protests from Lucius or Narcissa, "society would follow suit; blood prejudices would be put aside in light of this new union, people would be encouraged to befriend the other side..."
"People could finally move on from this devastating war," the wizened old wizard finished.
There was utter silence in the room for one millisecond while its inhabitants processed Dumbledore's words, weighing them in their minds ounce by ounce.
It was Evelyn who broke the silence. "Hermione shall not marry him," she said simply. "I will not have my daughter entering a loveless marriage."
This brought a sneer to Lucius's face, but since he was in agreement with the object of his scorn, he did not protest.
"And Draco shall not marry her. He is intended for a pureblood marriage, one that will not... compromise... our family tree." Though Lucius had not used the word "taint" as he would have under previous circumstances (i.e. when the Dark Lord still instilled fear in the hearts of all mortals), Brent heard the obvious undertone. He stood up again, though calmly this time.
"If you are implying that our daughter is not worthy to marry your son, you are sorely mistaken. She is every bit an equal to him. No, she is far more superior, because she was raised to disregard such paltry things as blood status... But I cannot blame a boy for his faulty upbringing."
The blow was delivered and BAM, Lucius was up on his feet, his chair clattering loudly to the floor. He made to lunge at Brent, but Narcissa held him back, despite her being just as incensed at Brent's insult.
"How dare you, you filthy –" he began, but before he could finish, Evelyn, too, stood up.
"Don't you dare speak to my husband like that!" she said, well, almost yelled. It was the first time that she had raised her voice, and one could see where Hermione got her temper from (except obviously her father... but it was a different kind of fire she got from him). "Who are you to judge us, to make snap decisions that we are inferior to you? We are only strangers to you, and you to us."
Dumbledore cut in. "Please, Evelyn, Narcissa, Lucius, Brent. Be seated."
They reseated themselves, but were far from silent. Their continued protestations rung out in the increasingly noisy room.
"It's quite unfair to both the children!"
"Why Hermione?" and similarly, "Why must it be Draco? There are plenty of other pureblooded boys..."
"This would pressure them into something they both do not desire!"
"How can you expect us to force our own flesh and blood to marry the person they most despise? It would be the grossest hypocrisy!"
"What you are suggesting is preposterous –"
"No," Dumbledore's voice was commanding, final. Never had he ever seemed so very serious – almost angry. "What I am proposing is an end to the turmoil that is ripping our world apart."
Both parties sat mutinously but had the sense to remain silent. An ultimate quiet reigned over the chamber. Even the flames in the grate seemed to wisely mute their crackling.
Finally, Dumbledore said, "Please, think about it," and with the twinkle back in his eyes, "Humor an old man and his wild ideas; they may just happen to succeed."
Brent was the first to speak. "We will speak with our daughter, but if she refuses, you cannot expect us to coerce her."
Evelyn nodded her agreement, while Narcissa and Lucius voiced similar sentiments about their son.
Dumbledore stood with a sweep of his glimmering robes, the scrape of his chair on the wooden floor resounding in the tense atmosphere.
"Then it is settled. Thank you all for coming today," he murmured, shaking hands with the four anxious parents. And with eyes a-twinkling, Dumbledore said, "Perhaps soon we shall meet again at the wedding of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy."