Author's Note: As I began writing Part 3 of Pariah, I realized that every story I'm writing is angsty and/or dark. It's where I dwell best. So, I thought I needed to challenge myself. A full-length story with nothing but fluff, romance and adventure. Bailey4047 and I sat down together and planned this entire story out, and it contains very little angst and a whole LOT of romance. I hope you enjoy the lovey-dovey-ness of this. I am way out of my element writing solid fluff and adventure, so I apologize ahead of time if it's cavity-inducing sweetness-I may need to sneak a little angst in here or there. Beta love for this chapter goes to CourtingInsanity, who took this story on out of sheer love of editing. So many "thank yous," my dear!
"I go to seek a Great Perhaps."
–Francois Rabelais' famous last words,
Made even more popular in Looking for Alaska, by John Green
Hermione Granger knew that she was every bit as insane as her coworkers had accused her of being when she found herself staring at the wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor. She had assured them that Draco Malfoy was just the person to help them with their latest endeavors, but now, as she felt the ripples of ancient magic emanating from within the property, she was suddenly a little less certain.
She had sent him an owl the day prior, requesting a meeting with him and—much to her surprise and delight—he had obliged, returning her owl with a bouquet of fresh cut daisies and a bottle of his family's finest wine. 'I look forward to seeing you, Granger' he had written in his perfect script on the return card. Hermione felt a fluttering in her tummy as she drew her lip between her teeth.
After the War had ended, Draco had been ordered to return to Hogwarts as part of his probation. He had been heart-wrenchingly sullen and lonesome when the year began, and Hermione had been surprised to receive a handwritten letter of apology from him. Hermione had accosted him one afternoon after Quidditch practice—seemingly the only thing that brought him some semblance of joy—and had dragged him to the stands for a long talk.
They had discussed everything—his treatment of her for their entire lives, which she learned had been brought on more by jealousy than actual prejudice; the way he had shattered her feelings when he had treated her in such a vile manner; his horror and subsequent nightmares regarding his aunt's torture of her in his home and the regret he felt at not saving her from such abuse; her forgiveness, freely given after receiving such a heartfelt letter from him.
From that day forward, throughout the rest of their final year at Hogwarts, the two had been nearly inseparable. They were study partners and Hermione had been pleased to discover that they worked cohesively together when it came to schoolwork. She had also been elated to find that the Slytherin was nothing like the boy she had been accustomed to before the War. He was funny, charming, flirty and every bit as brilliant as she was. Despite their jagged past, the witch had developed quite the crush during that final year.
They had coquettishly orbited around one another the entire school year and she had been crushed when, after graduation, Draco had suddenly disappeared. The two had exchanged owls at first, but eventually that had tapered off and they fell out of touch. Since then, she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. He had kept out of the spotlight upon leaving the shelter of Hogwarts—the public opinion of him was not favorable and she could not blame him for wanting to avoid that type of harassment. Daphne, who had eloped with Harry the year prior, claimed to see Draco a few times when Theo and Pansy forced him to attend one of their dinners. According to her, he was fine if a little quieter and broodier.
But Hermione had not seen him in the seven years since they had left Hogwarts. Her stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of seeing him again, all of the feelings she had buried deep within for years rushing to the surface. She felt nineteen again, sitting in the library at Hogwarts, waiting for him to show up after Quidditch practice to study Ancient Runes. Her hands went up and covered her eyes and a long breath escaped as she tried not to picture him emerging from the Black Lake as they all celebrated their graduation with a bonfire.
She heard the metallic tinkling of cogs grinding and the gate clicked open. Removing her hands from her eyes, she looked down the long, winding path that led up to the Manor's front entry. The last time she had been in this home, it had been a horrific, nightmare-inducing experience. But as she now looked up at the structure in the bright October sunlight, surrounded by colorful and lush foliage, Hermione thought it was significantly less ominous.
It took every effort for Hermione to bring one foot in front of the other and to walk over the gate's threshold. It swung closed behind her with a clank! and she jumped slightly. Her nerves were eating away at her, singing with anticipation. She breathed in deeply. "It's fine, Hermione. It's just Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. You were friends with him. Nothing more—you don't get nervous to see Harry, do you?"
Her palms were sweating, and the witch rubbed them against the fabric of her trousers. She brought them to smooth over the soft plum cashmere of her jumper as well. Hermione had changed her clothing not once, not twice, not five times, but six. Everything looked too provocative, or too conservative, or too blah. She had fretted for over an hour before settling on black trousers, a deep purple jumper and black pointed-toe heels. She looked professional—after all, she was here on business.
"Oh, sweet Merlin. What if he's married?" she mumbled, looking at the ground intently and not daring to look straight forward. "What if he is? So, what? He was never yours to begin with, you barmy witch."
The bottom stair of the entryway to the Manor came into view and her heart nearly stopped as she steeled her nerves enough to glance up to the door. The sight there brought her heart back to life and had it beating double time: Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his arms folded over his chest. He was wearing dark trousers and a soft grey jumper, his hair combed in a grown-up way. His face—was it possible that he was more handsome now than ever before? He had matured into the angles and points of his face and his grey eyes danced with mirth as his lips curved into a smirk. "Miss Hermione Granger," he said by way of greeting, and his voice caused a shiver to run down her spine.
The entire year that she had spent falling for him, she had never been able to deny him a smile when he looked at her like that. Like she was a tiny rabbit and he the great wolf, predatory and sexy as hell. Her mouth formed an embarrassingly wide smile as he stepped away from the door and came to take her hand and escort her up the stairs. Once at the top, he leaned in and brushed his lips against her flaming hot cheek. "You're as magnificent as ever, Granger. Please, come in," he told her, dropping her hand to place his low on her back and lead her through the door.
Hermione looked around, surprised that he was the one to greet her and not a tiny, sack-clad house elf. He looked over at her and she could see he was fighting a smile. "Didn't expect the Master of the house to answer the door?" he teased as he led her toward the back of the house.
She noted that the entire layout of the Manor was completely different from the last time she was there, and she recognized nothing. Instead of being decorated in dark mahogany and black marble, it was now decorated in white granite floors and honey colored oaks. "Not exactly."
"Oh, trust me, you'll meet Soots. She's our house elf, but she is no servant. I think the word 'diva' might apply more adequately to her," Draco said with a laugh.
"And where is Soots?" Hermione questioned as he led her into a sunny tea room, decorated in shades of cream and yellow.
"Well, you're the first female to visit me since my mother's botched attempts at playing matchmaker. She and my mother likely watched you walk up to the door, instead of apparating, and they are likely scheming on how best to get us married in under a year," he told her, pulling out a chair at the small table by the window.
Hermione sat, relishing the warmth of the natural sunlight filtering in, and Draco sat across from her. His words regarding his mother's whereabouts caused a flush to spread up her chest and creep onto her cheeks. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I know we haven't kept in touch much over the last seven years."
With one long finger, Draco tapped the letter she had sent to him on the table top. "I have to admit, I was intrigued by your missive."
He began to pour two cups of tea and raised an eyebrow. "Still two spoons of sugar and a dash of milk?"
Hermione nodded, surprised that he remembered the way she took her tea nearly a decade after they had last seen one another. "I'm sorry to contact you out of the clear blue—but I could not think of anyone who might know more on this particular subject than you."
Draco handed her a teacup and sat back casually in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee and bouncing his foot as he stared at her over the rim of his cup. "I don't have formal training on any of this. Just years of reading and a library full of books that may help you."
"When I became a curse-breaker," Hermione began, lowering her eyes so that she could think clearly, "I learned a little of this and a little of that. We studied bloodline curses briefly and I have not come in contact with a single one in five years."
"I'm sure someone at Gringotts could assist you—you are the greatest team of curse-breakers in the wizarding world," he argued lightly, his tone amused.
"The others don't even believe it to be a blood curse. Bill is rather skilled, but he believes the hairbrush to be cursed, not the family bloodline," Hermione told him, her lips pursing. "Our usual blood-curses liaison is unfortunately out of the country and struggling with a bout of dragon pox."
"Ah, so I'm a second choice," Draco commented, pushing a plate of biscuits in her direction. "How special I feel."
"Actually, I mentioned you right off. The others think I'm crazy to ask you for assistance," she replied.
"Why? Because I'm the big bad Death Eater?" he asked, all teasing gone as he looked up in her direction.
Hermione nearly choked on the bite of biscuit she had taken, coughing and sputtering wildly. "No," she said when she finally caught her breath. "No. We don't think like that. They think I'm crazy because, why would you want to help us? You're a recluse who hasn't been seen in public in seven years, you're independently wealthy and we have no money to offer, and we haven't spoken in so long—we're not exactly friends anymore."
Draco stared at her, running his fingers over his lips. "Why do you think that I would be willing to assist you?"
It was Hermione's chance to smile. "Because, as you said, you're intrigued. I know you well enough to know that you've probably already started researching Marie Laveau."
Draco fought a grin and regarded her silently for a few moments. She had to try with all of her might not to look away from his steady gaze and penetrating stare. "So, bring me the hairbrush and I'll take a look at it, see if blood magic cursed it."
Hermione frowned slightly. "That's not quite what I had in mind. I think the curse is in the Laveau bloodline itself. The people are what is cursed, not the brush. I was hoping you would come with me to investigate it."
Both of Draco's eyebrows rose toward his hairline. "You want me to go to America with you?"
"Just for as long as it takes to find out if it is blood related or if the curse is in the hairbrush itself."
"You think feeding my blinding curiosity is going to be satiating enough for me to agree? As you said, I would be an unpaid consultant," he countered, taking a sip of his tea.
Hermione could feel her hopes being dashed the longer she stared at him. She had hoped that his one-time insatiable thirst for knowledge and bubbling curiosity about the world around him would be enough of a push for him to agree to accompany her. It would have been enough, seven years prior. But there was something different about the Draco Malfoy she watched now.
He was more relaxed, more confident than he had been. His eyes, still holding the mischievous twinkle that they had during their final year at Hogwarts, were wizened and brighter. His countenance was at ease and patient. Perhaps it was because they were in his home, and perhaps it was because he had led a simple life in the time since they had parted.
"Why don't you come on up to my library?" Draco said, rising and clearing their tea with a wave of his wand. "If nothing else, I have some books that may be of help to you."
Hermione nodded, trying to mask her disappointment at his rejection. He placed a guiding hand low on her back once more and began walking through the bright foyer of the Manor. They climbed a staircase that had two corridors leading off from it and he took the one to the left. The door at the very end was already open and Hermione could see a sprawling library housed within the room.
Once they entered the room, Draco rolled his eyes. "Mother, Soots. You can come on out now."
Hermione took a deep breath as Narcissa Malfoy waltzed out from within the stacks that lined the room. Clad in regal robes of a silvery lavender, she was holding a book open. A small elf, fully decked out in a zebra print suit and a black hat that was wider than she was, followed closely behind. Across her face, a patch of dark black fur covered her nose and looked exactly like a smudge of soot. "Ah, Draco, dear. I was just catching up on my reading."
"Really? And what is it you're reading about? Mating Rituals of the Celtic Druids?" he read the title of the book in her hand. "And without your reading glasses. Must be more of a visual book, then."
Narcissa shot her son a glare that turned Hermione's blood to ice and snapped the book shut. "Enough of that insolence. It's unbecoming of a gentleman."
"I was just doing some light dusting, Master Draco," Soots told him, waving a feather duster that looked as though it had never seen a speck of dust a day in its life.
"Really? Are you sure the two of you, or perhaps just one of you—" he sent a pointed look toward the house elf "—weren't standing outside of the tea room and eavesdropping?"
"Draco Lucius," Narcissa warned before training her bright cobalt eyes on Hermione for the first time. "Don't be rude, dear. Introduce us to Miss Granger."
Hermione bristled under Narcissa's stare, gooseflesh rising over her arms. Her eyes were even more keen than her son's and the younger witch felt as though she was seeing straight into her mind. It occurred to her that it wouldn't be above the Malfoy parents to use Legilimency. Narcissa was a force not to be reckoned with and even in her kindness, there was an underlying, menacing air about her.
"You already know who she is, Mother, for Merlin's sake." He rolled his eyes once more. "But this is Hermione Granger. Granger, my mother, Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Wife of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, the forty-eighth generation of the Ancient House of Malfoy. And her faithful sidekick, Soots. Who has been in my family since before I was born."
Narcissa smiled a tight-lipped smile at her son's dramatics and extended her hand. Hermione felt uneasy and uncertain of whether she would be expected to curtsy or perhaps kiss the gigantic emerald that adorned the older witch's petite finger. She took her hand and shook it politely and Narcissa smiled secretively, as though she sensed Hermione's uncertainty. "Miss Granger. How lovely it is to see you again. I read recently of your success in breaking that curse on the statue in Brazil. Congratulations."
Hermione smiled politely. "Thank you. It was a collective effort with my team."
"No need to be modest, dear. Draco used to boast of your unmatched wit and intelligence," the blonde told her.
"Mother!" Draco reprimanded. "I have a few books I need to lend Hermione if that is quite alright with you and Miss Soots, here."
"Of course," Narcissa smiled wider. "Stay as long as you'd like Miss Granger. Come along, Soots."
With that, the house elf raised her hand and Narcissa took it. The pair left the room, with Soots looking over her shoulder at the young couple, a smile on her face. Hermione smiled politely back, and Draco sighed. "Sorry about that. My mother thinks any young, viable, single female is worth trying to set me up with these days. She holds little hope that I'll marry on my own."
He crossed the room and disappeared between two stacks. His footsteps echoed in the room, muted slightly by the heavy contents. "Well, follow me, Granger," he said, sounding exasperated at her obliviousness.
Hermione skipped slightly as she began to pad quickly after him. He was running his fingers along the spines of books that looked somewhat newer in comparison to the rest of the tomes. "I have a few volumes on Leveau, old New Orleans witchcraft and voodoo, and a few older ones in another row about blood lineage and curses."
He plucked a few books from the shelves, creating a healthy-sized stack for her that levitated between them. "I appreciate you letting me borrow them. I'll have them back to you in no time. Padma has an eidetic memory and can read at record speed."
"Ah, yes. Padma. Pansy's new play thing. We've been acquainted at one of Pansy's 'dinner parties'—also known as 'let's get together and talk shit about any and everyone we have ever come into contact with while also drinking ourselves blind.'"
He ambled along slowly to another aisle, looking along the spines and dragging his fingers along until he found the books he was looking for. Hermione looked around her at all of the ancient bindings. She could easily spend the entire week searching through each book. The fact that there were many different languages and topics had her heart fluttering. Or perhaps her close proximity to the blond was making her heart patter as though it would fly right out of her chest.
After the last book had been placed on the stack, Draco turned to look at her and smiled kindly. "I think these should all help."
With a wave of his wand, the stack shrank and was tied up in a silky green ribbon. Hermione stood still as he grabbed the books and laced his fingers through the ribbons to carry them. She was watching the way he maneuvered, familiar in so many ways, but so different than she remembered. All of the nights she had first thought of him, after his owl had begun to deliver less and less post until it finally stopped altogether, she thought she had memorized him perfectly. Seeing him now, she realized the memories she had enclosed in the deep recesses of her mind were not enough to do Draco justice.
Draco moved to tug at a loose curl and gave her a handsome smile. "I can walk you back to the gates if you'd like."
Hermione tried to swallow down the rise of disappointment she felt suffocating her and agreed. The tiny hope she had still harbored that he might want to spend some time with her fizzled out and she was left with a stinging rejection and the sense that she no longer knew the man she had secretly considered her best friend for that final year at school.
Once outside of the doors, Draco seemed to loosen up even further. "I'd like to see you—have lunch and catch up, in a non-official capacity. Somewhere outside of the Manor and away from my mother and Soots."
Hermione looked to where he walked, casually and confidently, next to her. "I'd like that as well. It's been so long."
"Seven years. I can hardly believe all that time has passed," he agreed with a nod, looking down at the ground, his mood shifting slightly.
"I enjoyed exchanging owls," she hinted, hoping he would be a little more forthcoming with why he had stopped writing.
"I did as well," was all he offered.
Hermione knew where this was headed—Draco apparently still held the ability to shut down and toss up defensive walls when he felt it necessary. It was common at the beginning of their short-lived friendship, but by the end, he was open and honest with her. "Draco. Why did you stop writing?"
Hermione couldn't help it—she needed to know the answer. It had burned within her heart those first few months and now, seeing him again, it was eating away at her slowly once more. At the end of the path, Draco stopped and looked at her, sighing. "My mother wished me to find a witch to court and marry. I couldn't easily do that if I was constantly distracted by another witch."
"But you didn't marry," Hermione countered, his statement confusing her more than answering her question.
He slowly shook his head. "No. My mother's matchmaking skills are virtually non-existent. She thought Pansy would be a good match, for Merlin's sake."
Hermione huffed a small laugh—Pansy had come out two years prior, shocking the pureblood world and earning herself an excommunication from her family. "Why hasn't anyone seen or heard of you?"
Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet. "I was traveling."
Traveling? The word seemed almost foreign to Hermione's ears when it slipped from his mouth, though she spent more nights away from her own bed than in it. Curiosity was welling within her, but she tamped it down as he handed her the bundle of books. "It was good to see you again, Draco," she told him, touching his forearm lightly.
Hermione turned to walk through the gates and she was stopped in her tracks at the sound of his voice. "I know a quaint little bistro in the French Quarter. Perhaps we could catch up there?"
A broad smile spread across the witch's face and she looked up at the clear sky before turning around. He looked pleased with himself and Hermione crossed to where he stood and pulled him into a hug. Draco stiffened initially and then relaxed into her embrace. "You won't regret this."
"When do we leave?" he questioned when she let him go, rubbing the back of his neck.
"In a few days. I need to introduce you to the team and get you acquainted with the case. Can you come past Gringotts tomorrow?" she asked, feeling a heady mix of anxiety and elation.
"Nothing would bring me greater pleasure," Draco responded, and Hermione could see a tense set to his jaw that confused her.
She could sense that she had pushed him enough for one day, but she intended to find out why he had left for years to travel. Where he had gone. Why he looked tense at the idea of meeting her fellow curse-breakers. "I'll see you tomorrow," Hermione confirmed, trying to play it cool and as though she wasn't on the verge of skipping through the gates and all the way down Diagon Alley.
One corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. "I've missed you, Granger."
Hermione drew her bottom lip between her teeth and gave him a small wave as she apparated away from the Manor and back to Diagon Alley to return and rub her victory in her coworkers' faces. As the world spun around her and she landed safely on her feet in front of the bank, piercing grey eyes clouded her mind. She doubted very seriously that she would be able to concentrate on anything else except the way he had stared at her, like she was a specter back from his past. Like he was genuinely happy to lay eyes on her once more, to speak to her, to tease her. All of the long-hidden feelings began rising to the surface, threatening to overtake the witch as she strode into Gringotts.
Hermione Granger had just waltzed back into Draco Malfoy's life, but she felt as though he were the one holding all of the cards, turning her life upside down, causing a permanent blush to bloom over her face and her body to feel alight with the flame he had ignited nearly a decade before.
o-o-o
Narcissa watched as Draco walked with Miss Granger down the long path leading away from the Manor. It did not escape her shrewd stare, how closely and comfortably he walked with the young witch, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. The last date he had gone on, as far as she knew, had been with Tracey Davis nearly five years prior, before he had up and left to go on his makeshift sabbatical.
She had nearly given up hope for him, had reserved herself to the fact that he was a lifelong bachelor. She had mourned the loss of the grandchildren she would never have. But seeing the way he interacted with the famous witch, so easily even after seven years apart, a new hope ignited in Narcissa's heart.
"Soots, we need to pen a letter to Miss Granger. Invite her to visit the rare books in my private study and to join us for dinner," she told the house elf, who was currently buffing Lucius' nails.
"Cissy. Leave the boy be—let him discover what he wants on his own," her husband said, looking at her from over the newspaper he held.
"Hush, old man," she chided lightly, waving him away. "And let your witch work her magic."
Lucius let out a long-suffering sigh. "Narcissa. All of your previous witches have failed to live up to Draco's expectations. What makes you think this is any different?"
As she watched her son walk back up to the house, a smile on his face and his hands in his pockets, it occurred to her that perhaps there was more to the celibate life he had been leading. Perhaps, Draco had underplayed his feelings for Miss Granger all along. She knew they had struck up a close friendship upon his return to Hogwarts—for which she was grateful, as the witch had pulled her son from the trenches of depression he had settled into. But if there was one thing Narcissa Malfoy was, it was shrewdly perceptive.
"Because, my love, this witch set the bar for Draco's standards."
o-o-o
A/N: Please review. And thank you to everyone who reads and reviews, and everyone who reads silently. Sorry for the random Narcissa POV, but that scene niggled at my brain. She's so cunning and scheming…