Mist, rain, and the relief of pain

A/N: I've rated the story T (mostly for swear words) at the moment, but will probably change that to M at some point. I intended this as a one-shot but it has become a bit longer already… At first, I just had the idea about Draco visiting the lecture but then the backstory began to grow and suddenly I could see the story going somewhere… It probably won't be as long as the last Dramione one but never say never… Anyway, I'm glad to revisit the characters as I began to miss them after I'd finished the last story.

Chapter 1

Draco entered the auditorium. A lecture on house-elf rights. He would probably be the only pure-blood in the room. Presumably the only house-elf-owner as well. Draco had gotten used to adversity. After the War, his parents had been confined to their Manor: under house arrest. He was not. At the courtesy of some old friends, he'd gained a junior assistant job at the Ministry. Today, some odd ten years later, he'd climbed the Ministerial ladder. Many people did not believe he deserved to. Draco didn't care. He'd never been liked by many though his family's money had often spoken loudly in gaining sympathy. As he sat down on some plastic chair, some people began to whisper. He had been recognized….

A few minutes later, the lecture began. First an introduction, and then the main speaker of the evening. After the lecture, there'd be time for questions. The speaker was introduced: a woman of great renown, with lots of legal experience, as well as, a published author. Still, she was best known as a part of the Golden Trio. Hermione Granger.

Draco had noticed her name on an advertisement for the event. It didn't say Weasley, he'd noted. Curiosity had driven him to visit the event. What had become of her? Draco didn't want to consider his motives for this sudden interest. It was like a school reunion, he'd told himself. Not that he'd ever visited one of those! After she'd been introduced, Hermione entered the room and took her stand behind the lectern. She hadn't changed much, Draco found. She still looked very prim and proper. Her hair was neatly folded into a bun. You'd almost forget it was curly…. Almost, because as her lecture unfolded, so did some of those curls. They dangled around her face and Hermione kept pushing them behind her ear without success.

"If the War has taught us anything," Hermione ended her lecture, "it would be that blood status is of no importance whatsoever. All Witches and Wizards deserve our respect, and it is about time we extend the same courtesy to other beings…"

The loud applause showed Draco that she was, indeed, preaching to the chorus. The questions were the same; none of them actually challenged her position. They all agreed with her and, even worse, fawned over her! Draco felt himself becoming agitated, expectantly looking around the auditorium. Could no-one give her some push-back?

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and stood up himself. People around him gasped. Draco Malfoy? Here?

"It seems to me you need a critic…" he said with a wide smirk. "You've already been heaped with praise.."

"A fresh perspective is always welcome," Hermione responded politely.

"Indeed," Draco replied, "It's the sign of an inquisitive mind, is it not?"

Hermione nodded, wishing he would get on with it.

"Everyone is destined to serve someone or something…" he began, "why should it be any different for house-elves..?"

"You should be serving prison-time!" someone in the audience shouted. Draco ignored him.

"I, for one, serve the Ministry, others serve their country or their superiors. You yourself, I imagine…" He stopped for a brief moment as the voices around him grew louder.

"You wouldn't know what serving was if it kicked you in the face!" A skinny woman with grey hair shouted, raising her fist.

"You only serve Dark Masters…" A bald Wizard, dressed in a green starry robe, mumbled.

Draco resumed, raising his voice. "You yourself probably feel you're serving your own noble cause. Perhaps even serving the poor elves in question?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her reply.

"Any form of servitude should be voluntarily," Hermione replied, not in the least baffled. "Any other form would amount to slavery…"

"They do not want to leave…" Draco said. "They long to serve…" How could she not understand? Smartest Witch of her age, indeed…

"They are not allowed to leave," Hermione hissed. "House-elves are basically prisoners. Brainwashed… much like cult members…"

Draco didn't know what a cult was, nor had he'd ever heard the term 'brainwashed.' "The use of Muggle words doesn't help your case… It simply makes you incomprehensible…" he stated.

"Fine," Hermione replied. "In other words then… The word Stockholm-syndrome comes to mind, but since that is a Muggle word as well…" She sighed.

"Cult members," she continued, "are often lured into a specific and isolated group by huge promises. These promises are never actually fulfilled, but by the time the members might begin to notice, they are already heavily invested in the group's particular, often religious or exclusive, ideas. They have broken off all contact with former friends or family, have invested their valuable money and time, and are very much trapped in the situation…"

"What has that to do with house-elves?" Draco wondered. They were hardly rich or ideological.

"I haven't finished yet, have I?!" Her eyes darkened. "Like cult members, house-elves believe what they are taught. They are so blinded by their fear and loyalty that they don't even notice they are being used… Not noticing how horrible your situation is, or even believing it is a good situation to be in, is called Stockholm-syndrome. Or being brainwashed."

"That is your opinion…" Draco said. "You think they feel bad or sad, even fearful. What if they are not? What if they are happy and you simply don't like it?"

"You can't see it because your way of life is at stake here. You privilege.." she snorted. "Fortunately, the magical community is slowly opening their eyes to this terrible injustice."

"That's it for today…" the presenter came to rescue Hermione. "If you have any further questions, I'm sure the speaker will happily oblige?" Hermione nodded dutifully.

About fifteen minutes later, Draco ordered a drink at the bar. He carefully seated himself next to Hermione. Her fans had finally left her alone. He'd asked politely if the bar stool was taken and she had replied that it was a free country. Whatever that meant… Draco wondered why being a free country was of any relevance to an empty seat at a bar.

"I thought you'd leave the moment the official part had finished," she said when the silence between them became awkward. Everyone around them was talking and laughing. "They certainly brought their pitchforks.."

"Oh, I've faced worse crowds," he replied.

"So, you work for the Ministry now? What department?" she asked.

"International Magical Cooperation… Senior negotiator…"

Hermione looked taken aback. "That's … great," she finally said. "Very responsible position too…" Suspicion was written all over her face.

"Why me, you're thinking, right? Surely my past disqualifies me…"

Hermione nearly spilled her drink. "Well…" she began. "Yes, it does make me wonder how…"

"They needed someone with my insights… skills, so to speak. Plus one or two people put in a good word for me…"

"And what skills would that be?" Hermione couldn't help herself. "Bribery…? Arrogance?" No doubt money would have changed hands…

Draco smiled. She hadn't changed one bit. Hermione clearly resented his good fortunes. "Perhaps my people skills… Graciousness and such… the very thing you seem to lack at the moment…"

Hermione snorted. "People skills?" she huffed. "You don't have them at all…"

"Perhaps it depends on the crowds one mixes with…" he replied diplomatically. "My experiences serve me fine…"

Hermione suddenly seemed to recall an article in the Daily Prophet. "You…" she stammered, "you were the one who sealed the deal with those horrible… Those…"

"Yes, that's right. My name rather helps me over there…"

"It would, wouldn't it…" Hermione laughed derisively. "Pure-blood ideology is still very much alive over there…"

"Great country… that… Pretty awesome…" Draco said with smiling eyes. "I felt right at home."

Hermione's face grew red. She stood up and took her drink in her hand. "Why don't you move there…" she said. "Surely you won't be missed here…"

Draco grinned as she stalked away. Some things never changed…

"It will be fantastic… To breathe the free air again…" Narcissa Malfoy was very much looking forward to the end of her punishment. Her husband felt the same. In just two more weeks, they'd finally be released.

"No more house arrest…" Lucius sighed. His icy eyes sparkled with joy. He sat in his armchair like it was a throne, his two dogs sleeping at his feet. His wife sat upright in a blue sofa, nursing a tonic for her headache.

Draco looked at his parents. "I've got a surprise for you both," he said as he handed them his gift. He'd booked a vacation for them. A whole month in Madagascar.

"I couldn't have wished for a finer heir…" Lucius whispered, as Narcissa teared up. "To be free again."

"You deserve it," Draco said. Ten long years of house arrest had been pretty harsh. It had taken its toll on his parents. Even a fine Manor could become a prison if you weren't allowed to leave…

"What did the Mudblood have to say for herself?" Lucius asked.

"Still the same old Granger…" He laughed and imitated her voice. "Those poor elves… All … What was it she said? Brainwashed…"

"Never heard of it…" Lucius replied. "Muggle word, is it?"

"Indeed… It means they can't trust themselves and so we can't either…" he explained. "They may think they are happy but, in fact, they are not…"

"She can read their minds then, can she?" his mother said. "Suppose she might be able to… Working in that office for so long could drive anyone mad…"

"Liberation of house-elves…" Lucius scoffed. "She's simply jealous, not having any herself…"

"Precisely," his son said. "Nothing much to it… I don't think she'll be a threat. The auditorium was filled with fans, but I hardly spotted anyone that truly matters…"

"Good, very good…" his father mumbled.

"You won't have to be our eyes and ears for much longer…" His mother patted his hand.