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"Why on earth did you want to meet me here?" Hermione asked Harry as she stared at Pandora's Box, an exclusive jewelry shop in Diagon Alley. "When you said dinner, I had a crazy notion that we'd end up in a restaurant. What's going on?"
"Somebody's birthday is coming up soon," Harry said with a smile.
"That's not for two weeks," Hermione protested. "And since when have you wanted to buy me jewelry?"
Harry smiled. "Well, I don't. But a certain someone wanted my help with a very special gift. You are to tell me what you like and I am to report it to Ron when he gets back from his Wales patrol this Friday."
Hermione stifled a groan. "I told him not to get me anything extravagant. I don't even like wearing jewelry. I can't exactly be taken seriously with babbles all over my neck and ears."
"You'll want this babble," Harry said with a wink. "And it's not for your neck or ears."
They walked inside and Harry steered her towards the glass cases featuring rings. Hermione gawked at her friend.
"You're not serious?" she asked. He wasn't suggesting what she thought he was … was he?
"I'm not supposed ruin the surprise, but since it's impossible to pull one over on you…" He sighed. "Yes, he wants to get you a ring."
Hermione wished she could be half-excited as Harry was about it. Isn't that's what was expected: squeals of happiness from a girl who just found out that her boyfriend was on the verge of proposing? Except engagements, rings, and weddings wasn't something she spent a lot of time fantasizing about. She certainly wasn't a proponent of your-wedding-is-the-happiest-day-of-your-life camp.
She managed a smile for Harry. "I don't know. I'd sort of prefer for it to be a complete surprise."
"But Ron doesn't want to pick just anything. He wants to pick out something you like. Something special."
"But he knows my taste. I don't wear a lot of jewelry, so if he wanted to buy me a ring, something simple would do. I don't really have a preference for these things."
"Just look around and pick out your favorite," Harry insisted. "It'll at least give him some idea of what you like. Last time we were here, it was hopeless. They kept asking Ron all these questions about color and cuts and we had no idea."
Hermione softly laughed at the image. "I doubt I'm much better, but as soon as I pick, we'd better get dinner."
"It's a deal," Harry said.
Looking around at the sparkling dazzle of rings, Hermione felt overwhelmed. However, of endless possibilities, nothing appealed to her. There was something so commercialized and impersonal about the process. All the rings looked practically the same anyway. As she walked from case to case, her eyes began to sting from the constant glitz.
"This one," she said eventually, eager to get the whole ordeal over with. She pointed at the large natural pearl surrounded by tiny diamonds on a simple band.
"It's not a typical engagement ring, but it's classy, like you," Harry said. He gave her a brief hug, and Hermione reminded him about their dinner plans.
They walked to Leaky Cauldron and over butterbeer and roast beef sandwiches and crisps, Hermione told Harry about her day.
"I feel bad for the poor kid, but are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked her, his brow creased in concern.
"I want to. They have no one. What's the worse thing that can happen? We lose the case? That's a possibility I warned him about. I have to at least try. They had to deal with so much tragedy, I want to do something to help. If anything, maybe once I've helped with his case, I can convince Mr. Malfoy to try a different approach with his grandson. He seems to treat Scorpius like a little adult, rather than a child. That boy needs play time to cut loose and be around kids his own age; he doesn't need constant reprimands and be passed off to the nanny who looks as warm and maternal as Madam Pince."
"How old is Scorpius? Can't be older than Teddy, right?"
"No, he's about a year younger. Five, I think."
"I'd offer a play date, but I doubt Malfoy would approve," Harry said, taking a swig of butterbeer.
Hermione got an idea. "Not necessarily. I mean if I can convince him to be less authoritarian with Scorpius, maybe eventually he'll be more open to the idea. Is he supposed to be all neglected and alone until he goes off to Hogwarts?"
Harry looked pensive. She wondered if the conversation hit an uncomfortable note for him; she didn't mean to remind him of his own bleak childhood.
"I don't how you'll convince Malfoy to suddenly become the jolly grandpa, but if anyone can make him see the light, it's you," Harry said. "Just don't expect too much. No one likes a stranger to tell them how to raise their kid."
"You're right." She groaned. "It's not my place. But you should have seen his face. He's just like this hurt puppy. You can tell he had a different life with Draco and Astoria. It really sounds like Draco went in the opposite direction of his father."
"Wait, does Ron know you're going to be working with Malfoy?" he asked, squinting.
Hermione couldn't help but side-eye his sexist comment. "In some parts of the world, women are allowed to make decisions without consulting their significant other. They even let us vote and everything."
"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Harry looked sheepishly away.
"Let's see, I got back from the Manor to meet you at Pandora's Box and now I'm having dinner with you. When exactly would I have time to inform him?"
Harry turned red. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I just meant that he'd want to know."
"I'll tell him during our fire-chat tonight," she said.
"He'll worry, you know," he mentioned.
She rolled her eyes. "We all worry, but we can't stop living our lives."
Harry was right. When Hermione told Ron about her new case, he made no secret to hide his disapproval.
"Something doesn't feel right about this," he said, his tone full of suspicion typical of an Auror.
"Why? He is not interested in jinxing me, only hiring me for my services."
"I don't know, Hermione," Ron said. "I don't like the idea of you being involved with him in any shape or form. He's dangerous. He hates Muggle-borns. There tons of rumors of him and Draco having a great row over something. Some even say that he was involved in that wedding Fiendfyre."
Hermione threw up her hands. "How? Wasn't he in Azkaban at the time?"
"Yeah, but it's his best alibi. He's a Dark Wizard. He could've broken out in secret, set the Fiendfyre, then quickly gotten back. Being in Azkaban is the best alibi."
"You and your conspiracy theories. You're becoming the new Mad-Eye."
"Doesn't it seem odd that you asked you to take this case?" Ron persisted. "I'm not saying you're not any good. But you've made a name for yourself in extending rights and protections to magical creatures, not squabbling over land disputes for pompous gits like him."
"Ron, I know what I'm doing." Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes again. "I want to help anyone who feels an injustice has been committed against them under the law. It matters not if he's a nice person. All that matters is figuring out if he was cheated of rightful property and restoring that property back to him. People are free to view him with suspicion, and rightfully so, but that doesn't mean anyone can deny him his legal rights. And if no one is helping him find legal representation, then it's not odd that he turned to me. What choice did he have?"
He sighed. "I don't want to argue over this. I know you'll do what you want and what you believe is right. Just know that I'm worried about this. Be on your guard when you're around him. Always meet in a public place, and let either me or Harry know when—"
"I know, I know," she interrupted him. "You don't have to act like I'm helpless. I appreciate your concern, but if something felt off, I wouldn't have accepted."
Hermione was tired and ended the conversation shortly afterwards.
The following day, she felt a tingle of anticipation all day at work. In her eagerness, she arrived early. A house-elf let her in, citing that Mr. Malfoy wasn't in yet. She decided to wait in the parlor. Before she had a chance to sit down, a movement on the staircase caught her eye by the open door. She peaked into the spacious hall and smiled.
An angelic little boy slid down the banister, then soared into the air with a summersault before landing lightly on the floor.
"Hello," she greeted him from the doorway.
"Hello," he shyly responded, his eyes widening. He walked up to her and extended his hand. "Scorpius Malfoy. How do you do?"
Hermione kneeled down to his level and shook it. "Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to formally meet you. I was here yesterday, remember?"
He nodded. His eyes gleamed as he tugged on her hand. "Would you like to play in my room? No one ever comes to play with me anymore."
She bit her lip, considering. Mr. Malfoy may disapprove and she was officially here on business … but how could she refuse?
Nodding, she hurried up the imposing staircase after the energetic youngster. They turned right. The walls were lined with older paintings of Malfoy ancestors, which seemed to be in better condition than the parts of the house she'd seen yesterday.
"That's my grandfather's room," he said, pointing towards the end of the hall in the opposite direction of where they were headed. "But there are no toys there. Or anything fun. He's always grumpy."
Hermione stopped and stared at the double doors, which were almost obscured by the shadows in the dimly lit corridor. For some reason, she felt as though she was invading Mr. Malfoy's privacy. The thought of being near his bedroom made her uncomfortably hot. There was this unexplainable pull towards it.
"Come on!" Scorpius tugged on her arm again and skipped to the end of the hall. "This is my room!" he announced, opening his door.
Hermione sucked in her breath at the sight before her. Unlike the rest of the house, so far, this room looked … happy. The room had large, floor-length windows and plush carpeting. The nautical decorating theme loudly proclaimed the boy's love of the sea and ships. If any visitors had lingering doubts about the child's hobby, a large replica of an eighteenth century naval destroyer towered above the bed.
Scorpius ran up the steps aboard the deck. "Would you like to play on my ship? You can be my First Mate." he asked her, as he took his place at the helm.
She gave her best salut. "Aye, aye, captain!"
They spent several minutes frolicking on the toy. Hermione never seen such an immaculate likeness before. She could easily see a group of children playing in it for hours. How much more fun this would be for Scorpius if he were allowed to have friends his age here!
"Did you have your friends play here with you over the summer?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I used to have lots of friends. Then I came to live here with grandfather and they couldn't come with me. But with my friends, we used to play pirates. It was fun. Someday I'm going to sail on a ship all over the world! My papa took me once. He said he'd take me again." Scorpius paused, then looked at Hermione with pleading eyes. "When is papa coming back, Miss Ermione?"
Hermione felt the tears sting her eyes. "Oh, Scorpius. Did your grandfather ever speak to you about an accident with fire?"
Scorpius nodded. "We went to see grandmother in the big building. She was sleeping. Is that where he is too?"
"Not exactly. Sometimes when bad things happen, like fire accidents, we can get seriously hurt. Your grandmother is very hurt. She'll be in the big building for a very long time," she explained. "Do you understand?"
He nodded.
"And sometimes when these accidents happen, people go to sleep and they never wake up. It's called being dead. It means one can't come back from it, no matter badly one may want to."
"Mama and papa are never coming back? Even if I'm really, really good?" Scorpius whispered.
"It doesn't work like that, sweetheart. They loved you whether you were good or not. This isn't up to them," Hermione answered softly. She gently touched his shoulders. "But just because someone dies doesn't mean they leave us forever. They'll always be right here in your heart."
"Will you leave me too, Miss Ermione?"
"Someday. When I finish working with your grandfather, I'll have to leave. But not right now."
Scorpius plumped down to sit on the deck, dangling his legs over the edge of the ship.
"I wish you could come and play with me every day. Mrs. March is mean. Sometimes she gets so cross, she hits me on the head with her big spoon," he said in a light tone.
Hermione's blood ran cold. "She hits you?"
He shrugged. "Only when I'm bad. But sometimes I don't mean to. When my magic happens, I can't stop it."
The little boy's confession distressed her. She seethed with anger at Mrs. March for her abusive disciplinary tactic and at Mr. Malfoy for being blissfully ignorant of it. If he deigned to spend more time with his own grandchild he would hear about it, same as she. Hermione was determined to discuss this with Mr. Malfoy as soon as she saw him.
Scorpius brightened and hopped on to his feet. "Let's play hide and seek! I'll hide first!"
"Okay. But stay in this room. Your grandfather wouldn't like me to go snooping all over the house for you."
"Okay! Count to twenty and don't look!"
"I won't," she promised, closing her eyes.
When she heard his little feet stomp down the ship's steps and shuffle on the carpet, she began to count.
"One, two, three…"
The room became eerily quiet when Scorpius ceased to make any noise.
"Seven, eight, nine…"
Her voice echoed around the high ceiling. Hermione felt a prickling sensation of being watched.
"Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…"
There was a soft noise on the floor behind her. As she was about to utter the last number in her count, a hand came down to her shoulder.
A loud scream left her lips as she scrambled to her feet and spun around, brandishing her wand.
"Calm down, Miss Granger, it's only me," Lucius said, taking a step back.
Her chest heaving, she tried to take deep breaths. "You've given me an awful fright, Mr. Malfoy. You should have made your presence known."
His haunted eyes softened.
Scorpius came scrambling from the toy closet. "You scared, Miss Ermione, Grandfather!"
"So I did. Apologies, Miss Granger." He turned to his grandson. "You stay here now. Miss Hermione and I have much to discuss."
The little boy nodded with sadness in his eyes. "Miss Ermione, will you come back to finish the game?"
"If it's okay with your grandfather," Hermione replied, looking at Lucius Malfoy.
He gave a brisk nod and she grinned at Scorpius. The boy looked instantly more joyful.
Lucius stepped down from the toy ship and held his hand out to Hermione. She gratefully took it. The warmness from his hand soothed and relaxed her. She glanced at his hand again. His fingers were long and strong without any scars.
Hands were oddly underrated on men, she thought. Yet, from the most innocent touches to the most intimate caresses, everything happens with the hands first.
The thought of him intimately caressing her made her flush and she silently admonished herself for her wayward thoughts and quickly let go of his hand. They walked out of Scorpius's playroom mainly in silence and arrived to his study.
"Have a seat, Miss Granger. Please, excuse my tardiness. I was … detained." His eyes turned somber once more.
Hermione remained standing as she spoke, "Mr. Malfoy, before we begin, there is another matter that I must discuss with you."
He eyed her with curiosity. "Go on."
"It has come to my attention that your grandson is being physically abused by his nanny. He's told me that Mrs. March hits him repeatedly on a head with a spoon by means of discipline. It's positively barbaric. I may be overstepping my bounds, but I cannot keep my own counsel on this."
"Miss Granger, whatever means the governess employs to instill discipline is up to her. I understand that to a modern young lady, such as yourself, certain corporal punishments seem outdated. However, my generation, and that of Mrs. March, was a big proponent of traditional disciplinary measures. They may seem draconian, but they work in the long run."
"Then I'm sorry, I will be unable to work for you." The emotions that she suppressed in front of Scorpius finally spilled over and tears began to freely flow down her cheeks. "I know I have no right to interfere, but I think it's abuse. I won't work for someone who condones such abusive practices. It's a matter of principle, sir."
He looked at her as though she was from another planet. Perhaps she did look rather alien to him, crying crocodile tears in his study over a matter that did not concern her. Perhaps a man of his stoicism wasn't used to emotional witches. What did she hope to accomplish with her ultimatum? The boy's situation won't improve; she just won't be here to hear about it … won't be here to offer any solace either.
Through her tears, she saw Lucius Malfoy move closer to her. When he stood before her, she became acutely aware of his lean height and strength.
He handed something white to her.
A handkerchief.
Hermione took it, embarrassed. She had never been a pretty cryer; her face had a tendency to break out in unflattering red blotches.
She quickly wiped at her tears and tried her best to compose her face before chancing a glance at him.
He continued to regard her with an odd expression on his face, then spoke with efficiency and economy, "I will discharge her in the morning. Sit down now. I believe we have other matters to discuss."
First day on the job and Hermione's already shaking things up in the Malfoy household :D
