Book Bondings
by Katie
Note: In this twisted alternate universe of my design, Voldemort supporters don't have to keep it a secret; the battle between the Dark Lord and the Ministry is at a standstill but still very much in the open. I know this isn't exactly what you were looking for, Gisela-san; I hope you enjoy it anyway.
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Mrs. Granger gave her only daughter one last tearful hug and kiss.
"Be careful at Hogwarts, dear," she said. "I don't care how awful and evil this Voldemort fellow is – don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. I want my baby to come home in one piece."
"It's just school, Mother," Hermione said, a trifle impatiently. "I'll be perfectly safe. They've got the best wizards and witches in the world there."
"Yes, well, be careful just the same," her father replied. He ruffled her hair and smiled with forced cheer at her protest. "I've got a present for you, pumpkin." The smile almost reached his eyes at the way hers lit up, and he pulled a book out of an unmarked bag and handed it to her. She took it reverently, almost toppling over with its weight.
"A Total History of the Second World War," she read.
"I know you're going off to learn spells and magic and all," he said, "but I think it's important that you keep up with your Moogle history too."
"Muggle, Daddy," Hermione corrected with a snip. "The term is Muggle."
"Sorry, pumpkin." Mr. Granger leaned down and gave his daughter a swift kiss. "Now hurry up. You're going to miss your train."
Hermione nodded and, clutching the book to her chest, walked into Platform 9 3/4.
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"Crabbe and Goyle will be there," Mrs. Malfoy said fretfully, "and that Parkinson girl...Pansy. And I think Acacia Bulstrode said she would be sending Millicent to Hogwarts, although most other Pureblood families are sending their children to Durmstang." She punctuated this sentence with a glare at her husband, who sighed.
"Despite Albus Dumbledore's disgusting affection for all things Muggle," he said for what probably was the fiftieth time, "Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in the world. Draco will get the best education money can buy. And Severus will be there to make sure he won't interact too much with the mudbloods."
Mrs. Malfoy sniffed, obviously not impressed.
"Don't worry, Mother," Draco said. "I can take care of myself. Bad blood always shows."
"Right!" Mr. Malfoy smiled proudly at his son. "Take care of yourself, son."
"I will, Father."
"Do you have everything you need, darling?" Mrs. Malfoy looked nervously at his bags. "Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?"
"I'm fine, Mother," Draco answered wearily, unconsciously fingering a package he kept tucked in his robes. "I'll send an owl if I need anything."
"Send us an owl when you get there," Mrs. Malfoy said. "I'll be sending a care package in a day or two. Be sure to tell me if you need anything!"
"Narcissa," Mr. Malfoy said warningly, "the boy's going to miss the train."
Mrs. Malfoy sniffed, and swept down to give Draco one last hug.
"I'm going to miss you, darling," she whispered.
"I'll miss you too, Mother," he replied.
"Time to get going, Draco," Mr. Malfoy said. Reluctantly, Draco broke away from his mother, and headed into Platform 9 3/4.
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"Excuse me, have you seen a little green toad?"
Draco yelped and instinctively tried to hide the worn book he had been reading. He regarded the intruder, a frizzy red-haired girl with large teeth and an imperious manner, with annoyed disdain.
"Excuse me?" he asked, adopting his most haughty tone of voice. It was completely lost on her.
"A little green toad," she repeated patiently. "His name is Trevor. A boy named Neville Longbottom misplaced him."
"Longbottom?" Draco snorted. "I'm familiar with that family. Worthless lot."
The girl frowned.
"Worthless or not," she said with some asperity, "have you seen his toad?"
"No, I haven't," Draco sneered, and pointedly returned to his book.
"Ooooooh, what are you reading?" Draco jumped as the girl excitedly slid into the seat across from him, her earlier annoyance with him evidently forgotten.
"Who are you?" Draco snapped, pulling his book back protectively.
"Hermione Granger," the girl replied, holding out her hand politely. "You?"
"Never heard of you," Draco said coldly. "Must be a mudblood." He had the satisfaction of seeing a hurt expression flit across the girl's face. New to the wizarding world or not, she was evidently familiar with that particular insult.
"You must be a Voldemort supporter, then," she said.
Draco was horrified.
"You don't say the Dark Lord's name," he hissed.
"Why not?" Hermione replied, looking quite pleased at having disconcerted the boy so. "It's just a name."
"Do you want to call his wrath down on you?" Draco asked.
"Fear of a name only gives it power over you," Hermione replied primly.
"Besides, haven't you read any fairy tales? You're the one who has the power when you know something's name. Being afraid of Voldemort's name gives him power over you, not vice versa."
"You're crazy!" Draco said.
"I'm well-read," Hermione retorted.
Obviously words weren't going to make the girl go away. Forgetting that it had peaked her interest in the first place, Draco pulled out his book, hoping she'd go away if he ignored her.
"So what book is this?" Draco didn't even a chance to protest as Hermione snatched the book from his hands.
"It's mine, mudblood!" he snapped as he tried to reach for it. Hermione evaded him with surprising ease as she skimmed through the volume.
"Why, it's a diary!" she said, and kicked his shins as he got too close to getting the book back. "World War II era."
Draco leaned back in his seat with a pout, relinquishing the battle and rubbing his sore shin.
"It's my great-uncle's," he said, sulking.
"Your great-uncle fought in the war?" Hermione asked, delightedly skimming the pages.
Draco nodded.
"He was one of the first to volunteer," he said with some pride. "Of course, my great-grandparents disapproved of him getting involved in Muggle affairs, but Uncle Korbin argued that if the Muggles destroyed the world, there'd be no pieces left for the wizards to pick up. Great-grandfather threatened to disinherit him, but Uncle Korbin signed up anyway." His great uncle's courage in defying his parents obviously impressed Draco.
"This is an amazing primary resource," Hermione said, fingering the pages reverently. "I mean, my parents gave me a book on the Second World War, but even that is nothing to this." Draco preened at the awe in her voice.
"I've got the letters he wrote home, too," he said, his pleasure at a rapt audience making him forget that the audience was Muggle-born. "Great-Grandfather refused to read them, and even tried to burn them, but Great-Grandmother secretly saved them."
"You've even got letters?" Hermione's eyes went wide. Draco nodded and proudly pulled them out of his robe. Hermione took the letters with the same reverence she had given the book.
"This is amazing!" she said. When she looked up, however, her eyes weren't awe-filled, but piercing. "How could anybody with such a treasure support Voldemort?"
Draco gaped at the girl.
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
"This!" Hermione said passionately, gesturing to the book and letters. "How can you read of your great-uncle's bravery and still support Voldemort? Voldemort, who is just like Adolph Hitler, the man your great-uncle fought against!"
"The Dark Lord is nothing like Hitler, you stupid mudblood!" Draco replied heatedly.
The insult hurt, but Hermione was too caught up in reformist zeal to let that stop her.
"Voldemort wants to exterminate Muggles just like Hitler wanted to exterminate the Jews," she said in rebuttal.
"The Muggles deserve it!" Draco said. "We wizards are ten times more powerful than they are, and yet WE are forced to hide our abilities and be content to live in a tiny portion of the world while they consume the entirety of it. Our very superiority forces us to bow to our inferiors. It's a tyranny of the weak!" He spoke passionately but blindly, not thinking about his words but simply reciting another's.
"Racial superiority," Hermione responded promptly. "And lebensraum."
"What?"
"'Living space,'" Hermione translated. "The belief that the Aryan race needed and was destined for greater territory. Haven't you ever read Mein Kampf? I've only ever read the English translation myself, and it's terribly boring, but everything in it practically reeks of Lord Voldemort's manifesto."
Draco frowned, wanting desperately to retort, but something held him back. His chest ached with confusion. Hermione watched his confused face and telling silence with a satisfied expression. She stood, deciding that her work was done for the moment. She was going to keep her eye on this one, though. She may not be able to fight Voldemort directly while a student, but she could keep Draco Malfoy out of his clutches. Determined, she turned to leave.
"Hey Granger." Draco's voice stopped her, and she turned once more to face him. "You say you have a book on World War II?" Hermione nodded. "I'm going to borrow it."
Hermione grinned, immediately seeing through his attempt to mask a plea with a haughty declaration.
"Sure," she said. "I'll go get it." She scampered out of the room, and Draco leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh.
For better or for worse, life at Hogwarts promised to be different.
Fin