Wednesday 2nd of July 1997
4:32pm
"Hermione, dear, is that really you?! My goodness you've grown!" cried Mrs Pierce of number 81.
Summoning a false smile onto her lips Hermione Granger allowed her elderly neighbour to pull her into a light embrace. Her parents had decided that the best way to celebrate their daughter being back home for the holidays was for them to host a barbeque for all their friends and neighbours, so that Hermione could catch up on all the local gossip that she had missed while away at school. Her parents seemed to think it would be good for her to spend some time with muggles for a change. Frankly Hermione thought it was a horrendous idea. Not that she abhorred the idea of spending time with muggles, it was just this particular group of muggles that she had a problem with. She barely knew her neighbours anymore ("Which is exactly why this will be good for you" her mother pointed out when Hermione had protested against the barbeque) and many of them had teenage children that they would surely bring along; children who had teased Hermione for as long as she could remember. As for her parents' friends, well, they were nice enough she supposed, but they would all be curious about her school and her life in general - since they'd seen very little of her ever since she'd started Hogwarts - and it was always tricky trying to explain these things; Hermione was terrified that she would slip up and mention something she shouldn't, like a Quidditch game or a particularly interesting transfiguration class. These were just minor reasons for Hermione hating this entire situation however. Since she was a very small child, Hermione had felt like she was different - feelings which had been justified when she'd received her Hogwarts letter age eleven - but now her isolation to these people felt more pronounced. They knew nothing of her world; of the things she'd learned in her six years at Hogwarts; of the things she had seen, both wonderful and terrifying; they knew nothing of her friends; or of the war raging on in secret, a war Hermione's fate was irrevocably entangled with.
On the other hand, Hermione had been dealing with her steady separation from the muggle world for six years now, so could handle it tolerably well. No, the thing that was really troubling her - that was making this gathering so painfully difficult to bear - was the very distressing news her parents had informed her of the day she'd returned home. It had cast a stone of fear and worry into her heart; a stone that was growing heavier with each passing day. It was constantly on her mind, niggling away at every thought she tried to distract herself with. Her parents told her not to worry, that everything would be okay. But how could she not worry?! How - how - could they possibly say that everything would turn out fine? How could they say such things; when they knew like she did how easily they could be proven wrong? Right now her parents were pretending like everything was normal; like they didn't have a care in the world - and Hermione could barely stand it. She knew they were only doing it for her sake, to try and reassure her as best they could, but it wasn't working. Hermione didn't want them to protect her - not from this at least - she wanted them to be honest with her, because she knew they were keeping things from her; things that would only make her worry more. She wanted to be strong, really she did, but every time she looked at her father...
Fighting back tears, Hermione took a deep breath and prepared to greet the latest arrival. "Mr Colby," she said, hating the fake cheer in her voice. "Its good to see you again, my Dad will be so glad you could make it."
"Hermione! My God, I've not seen you since the summer before last I think," returned Mr Colby, a kind, jovial gentleman who was a friend of her father's. "And just look at you, last time we met you were a girl, now you're a young lady and a very pretty one too."
"Thank you" said Hermione, arranging her features into what she hoped was an embarrassed sort of smile. This is exactly why she hated being the one to welcome all the guests; every last person she greeted just had to comment on how much she had grown since they'd last seen her, or remark on how she had blossomed into such a 'fine young woman'. It was really getting quite tedious. It's not as if I've even changed all that much, she thought in vexation, I mean sure, I'm taller and I've filled out like all girls do but other than that I'm still the same Hermione; I still have the same bushy brown hair they used to tease me for, the same brown eyes, same freckles, same buck- Oh! Well okay so I'm still the same minus the buck-teeth.
As Mr Colby wandered off to find her father, Hermione turned to see a family of four walking toward her, groaning inwardly when she recognised them. "Oh great!" she muttered unhappily under her breath. The Graham family were the most annoying and stuck up people in Hermione's street. Mr Graham was a tall, burly, red-faced gentleman in his late fifties, he was short-tempered and overbearing and he spent his free time either polishing his expensive Rolls Royce or barking at local kids who kicked balls too close to his pristine garden. Mrs Graham was a blonde attractive woman - the sort of woman that men drool over - but she had a very grating personality; she seemed to think it her God given right to poke her nose into everyone's business and interfere with their lives and she was a relentless gossip. Their daughter, Heather - who must be around fifteen by now - was a small, sour-faced girl whose hair colour changed each time Hermione saw her (today it was cheery red). As a child Heather had been a whiny tattletale and Hermione had disliked her a great deal, but these days she barely interacted with her so didn't know much else about her. Finally there was Markus, Heather's older brother, and the bane of Hermione's life.
It had been a while since she had seen him last and she noted that he had grown into a tall, muscular and handsome young man, with spiky blonde hair and aquamarine eyes, what a shame about the personality thought Hermione disdainfully. As a child it had been a favourite pastime of Markus' to tease and torment Hermione until she either ran away or burst into tears. It seemed he wasn't happy unless he was making fun of her about something. She had hoped to avoid seeing him this summer, since he was at university now, but it looked like the fates were against her. Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to keep the hatred she felt for him from showing on her face; which became infinitely more difficult when Markus finally spotted her and his mouth curved into an evil grin.
"Harmony, dear" chirped Mrs Graham, as she reached the teenager. "How lovely to see you again, it's been too long."
Markus' grin widened maliciously as Hermione struggled to keep her features friendly, and suppress the growl of fury stuck in her throat. For as long as she could remember Mrs Graham had been calling her 'Harmony' despite the numerous times Hermione had corrected her. The woman's ignorance was infuriating! Deep breaths Hermione, deep breaths. Who cares if the woman is too stupid to remember your name, it's really not that big of a deal!
"Hello Mrs Graham, Mr Graham" she greeted politely, her smile strained. "Glad you could all make it."
Mr Graham merely grunted and nodded his head in acknowledgment. Heather glowered and walked further into the Grangers' garden and was quickly followed by her parents. That left Hermione alone with Markus. He cast his eyes lasciviously down her figure, noting that the pale yellow summer dress highlighted her curves and showed off an expanse of her long shapely legs. Hermione dropped her friendly facade at once and glared up at him.
"Well, well, well little Permione's all grown up" he sneered. "You know if you chopped off that rats' nest you might not look half bad."
"Don't call me that!" snapped Hermione furiously. "And forgive me if I don't take fashion advice from a porcupine!"
"The birds happen to love my bad-boy spikes actually, Permione" drawled Markus, raking a hand through his hair. "But what guy is ever going to like that tangled mess?"
"It's a shame you can't attract any girls with your 'bad-boy spikes'" retorted Hermione derisively, "but I hope you find a nice pigeon to settle down with!"
Not giving Markus a chance to reply she turned on her heel and marched away, desperate to escape this entire palaver. Ignoring her mother who called out to her as she passed Hermione rushed into the house and sprinted up the stairs to her bedroom. Throwing herself on her bed she let the tears come; this outburst had been building all day and Markus had simply been the catalyst. She pressed her face against her pillow, soaking it in seconds, her body shaking with muffled sobs.
"Hermione!" called a voice from the hallway. "Hermione open the door, sweetheart."
The Gryffindor ignored her mother and stayed where she was.
"Hermione, please open the door" Alison Granger pleaded.
"Leave me alone!" Hermione shouted over her shoulder.
"Honey please, your father and I have gone to a lot-"
"I don't care about the stupid barbeque!" sobbed Hermione, anger lacing her words. "I won't pretend like nothing is wrong!"
Hermione heard her mother sigh then her soft footsteps retreating down the hallway. She lay there for several more minutes; the last of her tears drying on her cheeks. Wiping her eyes she sat up and crossed her room to where one wall was taken up by a large bookcase brimming with different sized books. Reaching up Hermione took from one of the shelves not a book but a picture frame. Sitting back down on the bed she gazed fondly at the photograph inside. With fresh tears forming in her eyes Hermione hugged the photo frame to her chest. There was a soft knock on the door.
"Hermione?" it was her father. "May I come in please?"
Sighing Hermione reached over to her bedside cabinet where her wand lay, she picked it up and jabbed it in the direction of the door. There was a click followed by the sound of the door opening as Richard Granger stepped inside. He was wearing a white apron over his khaki shorts and short-sleeved shirt. Making his way around the bed he sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"I saw you talking with Markus, what did the foul little wart say this time?" he asked kindly.
"It's not Markus dad" she sighed in exasperation.
Richard heaved a sigh of his own. Of course he'd known this, but it didn't stop him from hoping that Hermione's distress was over something so simple; bullies he could deal with, this latest problem however...
"Can't we just have a little fun? Enjoy the summer while it lasts?"
"How do you expect me to have fun when all I can do is worry?!" she demanded quietly.
"Princess, nothing bad is going to happen to me" insisted Richard.
"You can't know that!" hissed Hermione, more tears sliding down her face.
Stricken by her tears Richard pulled his daughter more securely against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder and rubbing small circles on her back in an attempt to comfort her. For the first time he took notice of the picture frame and gently pried it from Hermione's fingers. Glancing down he felt a smile tug on his lips.
"I remember when I took this" he whispered. "Took me ages to get you two to settle down long enough to have your picture taken."
"I miss him" sniffed Hermione sadly.
"I miss him too ... but sweetie, things don't happen the same way twice. Just because he ... because we lost him, doesn't mean you'll lose me too." He paused a moment, pressing a kiss to Hermione's hair. "Now, you put this out of your head you hear? I don't want you worrying about things out of your control."
"Dad-!"
"No! You're seventeen years old Hermione, the only thing you should be worrying about is ... makeup and school and ... and boys."
"Dad, you know very well that my life isn't that simple. Not when I'm friends with Harry. There are more important things than makeup and boys."
"Yes I know. I suppose any chance of normality goes out the window when you insist on becoming best friends with a famous wizard" Richard chuckled.
"Harry needs my help" explained Hermione defensively. "He can't face Voldemort by himself."
"Then focus on helping your friends, love, and let me and your mother deal with things here."
Knowing full well that she couldn't just ignore what was affecting her family Hermione forced herself to nod for her father's sake.
"Right then! Lets get back outside, before your mother burns the burgers" said Richard cheerfully, bounding to his feet.
"I'll be down in a minute" said Hermione, summoning a small smile onto her face.
She waited until her father left the room before rising from her bed and returning the photo frame to its place on the shelf. Checking herself in the full-length mirror and finding that she was decent she took a steadying breath then left her room.
Wednesday 2nd of July 1997
6:17pm
Draco paced back and forth before his bed, glancing at the hospital wing doors every few minutes. Madam Pomfrey was still sulking in her office and hadn't spoken to him much since he'd returned from his little escapade. He felt a little guilty for making her worry, but mostly he was grateful for the peace. He had changed out of his borrowed pyjamas and into a silk green shirt and a pair of black slacks. His stomach was churning with apprehension as he waited for Snape to show up and take him to the headmaster. He was going over in his head all the possible questions he would likely be asked and the best ways of answering them. There was no way around it, Draco was sure he would have to come clean about his feelings for Hermione Granger. Dumbledore was just so bloody perceptive! He would know that Draco was hiding something. Yes he would understand Draco's reluctance to become a cold-blooded murderer but the headmaster would certainly see that it would take a far greater reason to make the teenager go against everything he had been raised to believe in and defy the Dark lord, risking his life and the lives and reputation of his family. And if he ever expected to earn Dumbledore's trust he would have to be honest with him, assuming of course that Dumbledore even believed him in the first place. He had himself to blame really, for the last six years he'd fooled everyone into believing that he was exactly what Lucius Malfoy's son should be: a proud, domineering bigot. But he wasn't and he hadn't been for many years now, he had simply kept up the pretence for appearance sake.
Draco stopped pacing for a moment and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. He needed this meeting with Dumbledore to go well, because he needed the opportunity to join the Order. The chance of joining the Order gave Draco hope, a hope he'd scarcely allowed himself to have these past few years; hope that he could make amends with Hermione and build some sort of relationship with her - even if it was just friendship. Since the summer before second year, when Lucius Malfoy had discovered the true heritage of Hermione Granger and made his disapproval apparent, the thought of a relationship - a positive relationship - with the pretty Gryffindor girl had seemed impossible to Draco which had been a constant source of frustration and melancholy. She was everything he wanted in a girl: smart, talented, feisty, and beautiful. She plagued his thoughts and drove him to distraction. She infuriated him, challenged him, amazed and dazzled him. She was the tantalising forbidden fruit that dangled infuriatingly out of his reach. Until now. No longer would he stand on the sidelines and watch as the male population of Hogwarts drooled over his Gryffindor and fumbled for her attentions. They were only interested in her because she was Harry Potter's best friend, or because they'd noticed that she hid quite a tempting figure under her uniform and school robes. Draco had liked her before any of them, before even Potter or Weasley had made friends with her. Thinking of Weasley made him bunch his hands into fists. He could still recall the violent jealously he had felt last year when Hermione had briefly dated the Weasel, it had only lasted a month but for the entire time Crabbe, Goyle and the rest of his housemates learned to avoid him else they be subject to his temper.
There had been a pronounced swagger in his step and a triumphant grin plastered to his face the day word got out of their breakup. For years everyone had just assumed that Hermione would end up with the Weasel - which was a major reason for Draco's animosity towards the red haired Gryffindor - so the discovery that their relationship had crumbled after a measly three and a half weeks came as a great shock to most. Draco however could only rejoice; that is until he realised that Hermione was now prey to all the horny, dirty-minded, teenage boys that Hogwarts possessed. And it didn't take long for them to go in for the kill either; less than a week later Cormac McLaggen started sniffing around. Somehow the arrogant bonehead managed to convince Hermione to go on two dates with him. Thankfully there wasn't a third date and Draco discovered the reason for this one evening in the library a few days later when he happened to overhear a conversation between three Hufflepuff fifth year girls; apparently during their second date McLaggen had gotten a little too friendly with Hermione, so much so that the brute had torn her frock and she had slapped him in retaliation. By dinner time the next day McLaggen found himself in the hospital wing, confunded, beaten to a pulp and unable to recall just who had attacked him. It was the first time Draco could recall lashing out at someone so violently; but the thought of that slime-ball with his mitts on Hermione made his blood boil and when he'd discovered the bastard alone in the fourth floor bathroom he couldn't control himself from getting revenge.
After that Hermione went on a few dates with a Muggleborn boy named Terry Boot from Ravenclaw but to Draco's relief it never amounted to anything serious. He heard rumours that Seamus Finnigan was planning on asking her out but he never seemed to get the balls to do so. And supposedly Ernie Macmillan had invited her on a few study dates which yet again never amounted to anything more serious. It seemed the incident with McLaggen had knocked Hermione's confidence with boys somewhat and she wasn't yet prepared to commit herself to another boyfriend just yet; for which Draco was grateful for.
"Draco?"
Draco jumped at the sound of Snape's deep baritone voice. He whipped round to find Snape staring at him from the opposite end of the Hospital wing.
"It's about time!" Draco snapped nervously.
"Getting impatient, are we?" asked Snape sardonically. Draco huffed an irritated sigh and glared at the potions master. "Come along then."
The young Slytherin took a steadying breath before crossing the distance separating him from his Godfather and then followed him out into the corridor. Draco's heart was beating a frantic rhythm in his chest as he listened to his and Snape's footsteps click-clack against the flag-stoned floor.
"There's no reason to be nervous, Draco" said Snape suddenly, startling Draco. "All you need to do is be honest with Dumbledore and tell him exactly what happened."
"Does that include how I killed that Death-eater? Or the 'state' in which you found me?" asked Draco cynically.
Snape came to a halt, grabbing Draco by the wrist and forcing him to do the same.
"You listen to me, it is imperative that you keep that a secret - at least for the time being - it could very well save your life some day, just as it did that night! The fewer people that know about it the safer you'll be. Do you understand?!"
Taken aback by Snape's reaction Draco nodded. "As proud as I am of your decision, Draco, it is time you realised just how much danger it has put you in. You do not know the lengths the Dark lord will go to seek his revenge upon you."
Draco stared at the potions master in alarm, as his grip upon his wrist became almost painful. Snape's face was grave and serious as he continued. "I know what He is capable of! I have seen things ... dark, terrible, things Draco ... atrocities you couldn't begin to imagine! I do not wish the same fate for you!"
Breathing heavily Snape took off at a hurried pace along the corridor again, and after a moment's hesitation Draco followed. Snape's warning had awakened a tendril of fear in Draco and that combined with his intense anxiety over his meeting with the headmaster made the young Slytherin feel like running in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him and hiding in a safe secluded place until this stupid war had resolved itself. Don't be such a coward! He scolded himself. Malfoys are not cowards. This thought summoned a troubled frown upon Draco's face. He didn't know what it meant to be a Malfoy anymore. His father had taught him that Malfoys were not cowardly; but Draco knew that members of his family were capable of far worse things than cowardice - and that knowledge made him extremely uncomfortable. What if his actions were all for naught? What if his blood was and always had been irrevocably tainted by his heritage? Is that why he had been able to kill that Death-eater? Was he doomed to become evil? No! No! I'm – I'm not evil! I'm not my father, I'm not! I refuse to believe that I'm destined to become some God-damned Death-eater!!
"Draco!" snapped Snape suddenly, jolting the teenager out of his troubled thoughts. "Hurry up!"
Draco had been so absorbed by his own reflections that his footsteps had gradually slowed so much that he had fallen several yards behind his godfather, who was glaring at him impatiently. "Coming" he called, sprinting to catch up.
"Honestly, boy" exclaimed Snape sardonically, "anyone would think I was leading you to your own execution!"
Draco tried to smile but the expression that formed on his face was more like a grimace. Snape took a moment to really look at his godson and was concerned by what he saw. He looked paler than usual - which was saying something - his eyes were bright and anxious, and judging by the way he held his body stiff and tense the boy was struggling against the urge to run away. Oh damn! Thought Snape despairingly, tell me I haven't terrified the lad by letting my mouth run amok?!
"Here now, there's no cause to look so grim, Draco" said Snape in an unusually gentle tone. "I'm sorry if what I said before scared you ... but I just want you to be on your guard. To be sensible ... that's all."
Draco stared at the potions master tremulously.
"And you needn't worry yourself about Professor Dumbledore; he just wants to hear your account of things, so he can decide what to do with you. And no matter what happens you have my word and his that you will be protected."
"It's not that," whispered Draco "not really. I mean ... I am worried about what I'm going to tell him but ... that's not ... I mean, em, I ... what if ..." his voice tailed away, as his brow furrowed into an uneasy frown.
"Then what is it, Draco?" asked Snape worriedly.
"Am I evil?!" Draco blurted out, feeling instantly stupid and childish for asking such a thing. He felt his cheeks burn with shame and couldn't bear to lift his eyes to his godfather's face.
Snape looked quite taken aback by Draco's question. "What?!" he exclaimed. "Why would you think such -?!" then understanding struck him "Oh!" he said. "Oh" he repeated uneasily.
Draco felt Snape's hand close on his shoulder.
"Draco, look at me" said Snape sternly. Reluctantly Draco lifted his head and met his godfather's surly, black-eyed gaze. "You are not evil! You were defending yourself against an evil man, a man who has taken hundreds of innocent lives and would have happily added you to his list of victims. There is no shame in what you did ... take it from someone who knows."
Draco didn't think he wanted to know what his godfather meant by that. Still he was comforted a little by what the potions teacher had to say. He nodded his head to acknowledge his understanding. Dropping his hand Snape continued along the corridor; relieved when Draco kept pace with him. All too soon Draco found himself on the seventh floor, standing before the gargoyle statue that guarded the spiral staircase to the headmaster's office. Snape muttered the password ("Jelly Slugs") and stepped onto the spiral staircase that instantly began to ascend. Draco hastily sprang after his potions teacher.
"I almost forgot!" muttered Snape, turning to Draco so sharply that he almost lost his footing. "Make sure you put up a mental block before you enter Dumbledore's office!"
"But -!"
"Just do as I say!" snapped Snape sternly.
Irritated by his godfather's continuous shifting moods Draco reluctantly did as he was told. Draco wasn't really sure he should be purposely trying to hide 'certain details' from Dumbledore, especially since he had already decided that he had no choice but to 'fess up to his feelings for Hermione. He understood that Snape was only trying to protect him but it was frustrating that his insistence on this matter was making things all the more complicated for Draco. After several minutes the spiral staircase came to a jarring halt and Snape and Draco stepped off. There was a slight pause as the two Slytherins stared at the polished oak door and brass door-knocker. Then Snape turned to Draco and said "Ready?" Draco nodded and Snape proceeded to rap his knuckles smartly against the door.
"Come in" they heard the headmaster call cheerfully.
Steeling himself for what was coming Draco followed the potions master into Dumbledore's office. They found the headmaster reclining behind his desk, his hands steepled in front of him and a benign, friendly expression upon his whiskered face. Draco had been in the beautiful circular room before - mainly due to his misbehaviour - but it was in that moment, as he causally gazed about him, that he had a horrible moment of clarity. It occurred to him that he would soon be confessing to having feelings for Hermione Granger not only to his godfather and headmaster (which was embarrassing enough) but also to every headmaster and headmistress that Hogwarts had ever had! Oh SHIT!! He thought horrified, freezing momentarily on the threshold. How could I have forgotten?! It was one thing admitting such a personal thing to two people who would certainly keep it a secret - at least he hoped they would keep such a thing secret - but it was quite another admitting it to a bunch of deceased old farts that had nothing better to do these days but gossip with the subjects of other paintings. He wasn't ready for information like that to be spread around the school. He wasn't ready for everyone's reactions, especially Hermione's. He needed time to show Hermione that he was changing, to prove that he wasn't the arrogant, pureblood-supremacist she thought he was, before he could express the feelings he'd been hiding.
"Is there a problem, Mr Malfoy?" asked Dumbledore.
Draco gave himself a mental shake and suddenly realised that Snape had already seated himself in one of the two chairs at Dumbledore's desk and that he and the headmaster were staring at him expectantly. More nervously than before, Draco took a few steps further into the room then paused again.
"Er ..." he said, and then gave a nervous cough to clear his suddenly dry throat. "I ... I was just wondering, sir, if ... if they –" he waved his arm vaguely at the portraits surrounding them "– would be listening too ... um ... I mean, well ..."
"Let me reassure you, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore interrupted, "that your secrets are safe in this room. No person in this office, alive or deceased, would dare discuss anything you have to say tonight."
"How can you be so sure?"
The headmaster smiled an indulgent sort of smile and cast his eyes around the room. "It is the duty of these portraits to serve the current headmaster or headmistress of Hogwarts, and to keep his or her secrets. They are bound by an enchantment which is as old as this very school." Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes found Draco's face again. "That is why I can be so sure of their discretion."
"Oh" said Draco meekly, flushing slightly and feeling quite stupid. He hurried forward and took his seat next to Snape.
"Well!" said Dumbledore exuberantly, continuing as if no trust issues had just been aired. "I am happy to see you looking so well recovered since I saw you last, Mr Malfoy. I take it you're feeling better?"
"Yeah, I guess" Draco answered awkwardly. "A little sore perhaps and Madam Pomfrey still refuses to remove the numerous bruises marring my body!"
"Oh" said Dumbledore, his smile widening "I'm sure she has her reasons."
Draco frowned slightly trying to work out why the school nurse would possibly want to keep him black and blue. Yet again his mind came up with nothing and he let the matter drop. He had more pressing matters to think about. At that moment Dumbledore slipped a hand into his robes and retrieved his wand which he flicked at the desktop where a tray and a set of tea things appeared.
"Would you care for some tea, Mr Malfoy?" asked Dumbledore courteously.
Draco narrowed his eyes at the teapot the headmaster was now pouring and then glanced at Snape who was doggedly avoiding his gaze. Draco turned back to Dumbledore who was waiting patiently for an answer, an expectant expression on his face.
"Sure, why not" he replied smoothly.
"One lump or two?" asked Dumbledore, smiling politely.
"Two" said Draco.
"Severus?" Dumbledore shifted his light blue gaze to the potions master.
"No sugar for me, thank you" replied Snape shortly, still staring at a point behind Dumbledore's right shoulder.
Draco took the proffered cup of tea and brought it to his lips, muttering a quick cooling charm under his breath he then downed the whole lot in one gulp. With a sound of satisfaction he returned the teacup to its saucer and set them both onto the tray once again. Dumbledore and Snape stared in astonishment at the teenager as he slouched in his chair, folding his arms defensively across his chest. In that moment he looked every bit the arrogant young aristocrat everyone believed him to be.
"Next time you want me to take Veritaserum just skip the tea and ask me!" said Draco bluntly.
As Draco was glaring angrily at the desktop he missed the look that passed between the two professors. He looked up however when he heard Dumbledore sigh.
"I must say I'm impressed, Mr Malfoy. Forgive us for the deception but we had to be sure of your honesty ... especially considering ..."
"My history?" Draco sneered resentfully.
"You must understand, Draco, that your past actions have made this ... decision of yours, difficult to believe and even harder to understand. For the last six years I have watched you bully your fellow students based solely on the status of their blood, wealth or simply out of jealously for the fame they have acquired in the most unpleasant of circumstances. And do not for a moment think me ignorant of your behaviour towards some of your professors."
Draco squirmed uncomfortably in his chair as he was forced to relive his atrocious behaviour of the past few years. He felt the unpleasant stirrings of shame twist in his gut as he recalled most clearly some of the more hurtful things he had said and done to Hermione.
"In your fifth year I made you a prefect, in the hope that the new responsibility would help mature you. But instead of providing guidance and reassurance to the new students as you were supposed to, you chose to abuse your power using it to frighten first years and to harass your classmates." Dumbledore glanced at Snape for a few moments before continuing in a lighter tone. "However, I must admit that I noticed a drastic change in your behaviour last year; you seemed at last to take your prefect duties seriously, and if my sources are correct you seemed to have fewer run-ins with Mr Potter –"
His sources?! Thought Draco incredulously. Has he been spying on me? Surely he's got better things to do with his time than to keep tabs on a bunch of teenagers ... right?
"– I put this down to the absence of your father, that perhaps the loss of his influence was having a positive effect on you –"
"Not an entirely unreasonable deduction" Draco interrupted, thinking aloud.
"Oh?" said Dumbledore curiously.
"I was angry when father was arrested, very angry, furious in fact. I blamed Potter and I had every intention on getting revenge when the new term started ... but then the summer came ... and I realised I was relieved that father wasn't around –" Draco recalled guiltily "– telling me what to do and what to think every minute of every day. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in my life. I could do what I wanted, go where I pleased, read what I wished and finally think for myself and make my own opinions. The day he lost his freedom was the day I gained mine."
It suddenly occurred to Draco that the Veritaserum must be taking effect; why else would he have admitted to the somewhat confused feelings he'd experienced last summer? He'd never taken the potion before and he hadn't really been prepared for its strength. Arrogantly he'd thought he would be able to resist its effects, and he was annoyed that this wasn't the case. Draco, who'd doggedly avoided eye contact during his admission, now lifted his gaze and found both Snape and Dumbledore staring at him, their expressions unreadable.
"Are you saying, Mr Malfoy, that your thoughts and opinions now differ from your father's?" asked Dumbledore, leaning forward slightly and resting his elbows on the desk.
Draco glanced at Snape, but the potions master's expression remained unchanged. "Yes" he replied softly.
"Would you care to elaborate?" prompted Dumbledore.
Another nervous glance at his godfather and this time Draco was rewarded with a small nod, which he took as encouragement to continue.
"Well ..." he began tremulously "I ... I disagree with my father's opinion that purebloods are superior to muggle-borns because, in my experience at least, I've found no evidence to support such claims. When I first started Hogwarts I thought being a pureblood meant I was better than everyone else and I imagined that muggle-borns were stupid, savage creatures undeserving of the magic running in their veins – like my father had taught me – but, of course they weren't ... they were just people like me; just as clever; just as capable; and, in some cases, even more powerful than myself. It made me angry at first and made me hate them even more because I didn't want to admit to myself that my father, the man I adored and idolised, could be wrong about anything – especially about something he was so passionate about. So I tried to do everything I could to prove I was better than everyone else; to prove that my father was right. I tried so hard to be like Father; tried to keep a hold of the hate and disgust he has for muggles and muggle-borns ..." nervously Draco raised his eyes to Dumbledore's wise blue gaze, "but ... I-I can't force myself to believe in a lie. I can't be the man my father wants me to be."
The headmaster nodded his head sagely. "Yet despite your true feelings, you kept up the pretence of the arrogant, bigoted aristocrat?"
"I was afraid ..." admitted Draco, "of what my friends would think of me; how they'd treat me, and I was terrified of what my father would do if he found out ... though I guess none of that matters now, I'm sure it wont be long before they all find out how I've 'betrayed' them."
"Ah yes, I think its time we hear your account of what happened that night, Draco," said Dumbledore, his intense gaze fixed on the teenager. "Start from the beginning, when your aunt and uncles came for you" he prompted.
This is it,the Slytherin thought to himself don't screw it up Draco! Yet again he looked to Snape for reassurance but this time there was only a strict warning in his Godfather's black eyes, reminding him not to reveal too much. So Draco told them everything that happened, right up until he made his escape into the forest, the Veritaserum aiding him to explain how he had felt at each point. It was a struggle but Draco managed to explain what happened in the forest without mentioning his confrontation and murder of the Death-Eater. He finished his account with himself collapsing in exhaustion and then being discovered by Snape, at which point his memory drew a blank. Whilst he'd been talking Draco had been vaguely aware of a slight pressure at his temples, but he'd been so focussed on his story that it wasn't until he'd finished speaking that he suddenly realised that Dumbledore was trying to read his mind. With this realisation came a sudden surge of gratitude for his Godfather and his occlumency lessons.
There was a long pause after Draco finished speaking, where Dumbledore continued to stare across the desk at the young Slytherin with his piercing blue eyes. After what felt like an age the headmaster looked away and Draco felt the pressure lift from his temples. Dumbledore leaned back into his chair and steepled his fingers again as his expression became pensive. Snape and Draco shared another glance as the silence stretched uncomfortably. Draco wasn't sure how many minutes passed until the headmaster finally looked at him again over his half-moon shaped glasses.
"I admit, you surprise me Mr Malfoy" began Dumbledore quietly "you showed a great deal of courage that night, more than I thought you possessed –" affronted Draco glowered at his headmaster "– there are few wizards who can pluck up the nerve to stand up to Voldemort –" unable to stop himself Draco flinched at the name, but Dumbledore seemed not to notice and continued "– and even fewer who have survived ..."
"I was lucky" Draco interrupted. "If that wall hadn't fallen when it did then I'd be –"
"Luck he calls it!" snorted Snape sardonically.
"Wait ... it was you?! You made that wall collapse?!" said Draco incredulously.
"Well of course I did!" cried Snape exasperated. "You didn't really expect me to stand by and watch you be tortured to death!"
"Well actually –" began Draco hotly.
"Ahem!"
Both Draco and Snape, who looked quite angry, froze and turned back to the headmaster who had one silver eyebrow raised and was peering benignly at them both over his glasses. "Quite finished?" he asked calmly.
"Forgive me, headmaster."
"Sorry" muttered Draco meekly.
"As I was saying ..." said Dumbledore, pausing briefly to be sure he wouldn't be interrupted again "impressed though I may be of your actions that night, Draco, I can't help but wonder if perhaps ... you are still hiding something from me."
"Sir?" said Draco nervously, feeling his pulse suddenly accelerate.
"I understand your objections to joining Voldemort's ranks, Draco, but what I cannot understand is why a boy barely of age would willingly risk his life, and quite possibly the lives of his parents, for his recently altered opinions on Muggleborns. You are a Slytherin, and Slytherins generally make decisions that benefit themselves. Yet you were willing to die, why?"
"So what, it's okay when Potter stands up for his morals but when I do its cause to be suspicious?!" demanded Draco heatedly.
"Harry Potter is a completely different matter altogether, he has every reason to hate Voldemort and everything he stands for. You, however, were raised to believe differently. No-one could blame you if you had opted to save your own neck that night and taken the Dark Mark, certainly not if they found themselves in the same situation that you did.
So you see, I must ask myself, Mr Malfoy, why? Why didn't you take the easy option? What could possibly make you go against everything you were raised to believe in and risk a long and painful death for? Just what was it ... or perhaps, who was it ... you were willing to die for?"
Damn! Thought Draco, I should've known I couldn't avoid this. He could feel Snape's dark eyes boring into the side of his head.
"Er ... well, um I-I" stammered Draco nervously, glancing down at his knees and feeling heat rise to his face.
"I take it they are of the female persuasion?" asked Dumbledore, and Draco was annoyed by the smile he heard in his voice.
"Uh ... yes" Draco sighed, as his insides burned with embarrassment.
"A-are you telling me," croaked Snape, his tone incredulous and scathing "that ... that you did all this t-to to impress a GIRL?!"
"OF COURSE NOT!" shouted Draco indignantly, glaring daggers at his Godfather. "How thick do you think I am? And what good would it have done me if I'd died?!"
"Then why, Draco? Why would you risk being killed, because of some silly, teenage crush?!" demanded Snape.
"It isn't a – you have no id – because, because dying was better than becoming a MONSTER! If I had joined Him she'd ... she would never – I would never have a chance with her!"
Something like understanding flickered behind Snape's black eyes before he broke his gaze with his Godson.
"I must say your devotion to this young lady is most admirable, Mr Malfoy" said Dumbledore serenely.
Draco closed his eyes for a moment a fought the urge to throw himself across the desk and strangle the old coot with his own beard.
"Not to sound nosey, Draco," said Dumbledore, pulling open a desk drawer and taking from it a bag of 'Bassett's sherbet lemons' (which from the packaging appeared to be some kind of sweet, which Draco had never heard of). "But I'm curious to know what kind of girl can penetrate that cool exterior of yours and inspire such feelings of passion? Is she a student of Hogwarts? Do Professor Snape and I know her?"
"Er, yes actually" said Draco awkwardly, watching Dumbledore as he struggled to open the bag of sherbet lemons.
"Well, who is she then?" asked Dumbledore, frowning slightly as the sweet packet continued to thwart his attempts to open it.
"Um ... it's ... Hermione Granger."
There was a great clattering as Dumbledore tore the bag of sweets in half, bouncing and skipping the sherbet lemons scattered across the desk and floor. Snape and Dumbledore were gaping open-mouthed at Draco, identical expressions of shock and disbelief etched in their faces. If his insides hadn't been squirming with embarrassment at that very moment, Draco might have found the scene before him extremely funny.
"I beg your pardon?" said Dumbledore uncertainly, his astonishment still vivid upon his heavily lined face.
"Merlin's beard it's not that difficult to understand!" Draco burst out impatiently. "The girl I like is Hermione Granger; you know bushy hair, fiery temper, hangs around with Potter and Weasley, smartest girl in the school, stands up for the rights of bloody house-elves – any of this ringing a bell?!"
"Preposterous!" barked Snape. "You hate the Granger girl! I've seen you go out of your way to insult and belittle her! And she stands for everything you b– I mean, used to believe in."
"What do you expect? I'm Lucius Malfoy's son; I'm supposed to believe in all this pureblood supremacy shit! It's not as if I could go waltzing up to her and ask her out and hope that my father and housemates would make an exception and be open-minded about it!"
"I don't believe it!" said Snape stubbornly.
"It's true and you know it! It was the thought of her that gave me the guts to refuse His Mark and kept me running for my life after I escaped. I knew if I joined You-Know-Who, even if it was just to save my life, she would never be able to accept me. She's a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors - noble bloody idiots that they are - die for what they believe in. I would be nothing but a coward to her." Snape stared at Draco after he said this, his expression unreadable. Draco gazed back at his Godfather defiantly.
"Is Miss Granger aware of your feelings for her?" asked Dumbledore curiously.
"Yes certainly, we were planning on announcing the engagement at the start of term!" Draco sneered sarcastically. "Of course she doesn't you silly old codg–" he broke off abruptly as it suddenly occurred to him just who he was addressing. He glanced back at Dumbledore and noticed he no longer looked benign or amused. "Sorry, that was rude of me" he apologised quickly.
"Quite alright, Draco, we'll blame it on the Veritaserum, shall we?" he replied calmly. "I must say this has proven to a most fascinating evening." He took out his wand and waved it at his desk where a large crystal bowl appeared. "Accio sherbet lemons" he said and all the yellow sweets went whizzing through the air and landed into the bowl.
"Would you care for one?" asked Dumbledore, as he himself plucked up a sweet, twisted open the wrapper and popped it into his mouth.
"No thank you" answered Draco, thinking this was an inappropriate time for sugary treats. "So ... what happens now?"
"Well that depends on you Draco," Said Dumbledore, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desktop. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to fight" said Draco, with more confidence than he actually felt. "I don't know how much use I'll be, but I want to join the Order. I want to help ... stop Him."
"Are you sure Draco? To join the Order is a very serious commitment, not a decision to be taken lightly. Are you sure you don't have an alternative reason for wanting to join?"
"You mean like trying to impress Granger?" asked Draco shrewdly. "No offence sir, but she doesn't really strike me as the sort of girl who can be won over by big empty gestures. But I would like a chance to make it up to her, to show her I can change. I do understand what I'm signing up for ... if you'll have me that is."
"That is a decision I cannot make alone, Mr Malfoy, the rest of the Order will have to be informed of your situation and will then take a vote on the matter."
Draco had been afraid of this but he supposed there was nothing he could do about it. At least Dumbledore hadn't given him an outright 'no!' he still had a chance.
"I believe that concludes our meeting tonight, Draco, I will schedule a meeting with the Order members in the next few days and contact you with their decision. Until then I want you to remain in the hospital wing under Madam Pomfrey's supervision."
"Yes sir" said Draco, suppressing a groan. Why does he have to send me back to the hospital wing? What's wrong with the Slytherin dormitories? He got to his feet and Snape rose to follow him but Dumbledore stopped him.
"Actually Severus, I was hoping to have a word with you alone."
"Goodnight professor Dumbledore, goodnight professor Snape" said Draco politely, suppressing a smirk.
"Goodnight Draco" returned Dumbledore smiling.
Draco turned away and exited the office, letting his smirk curve his mouth at last. He was glad he could return to the hospital wing alone and avoid the interrogation he would likely receive off Snape, about what he'd revealed, for tonight at least. He made his way slowly through the corridors and staircases until he reached the third floor and the hospital wing. Feeling oddly drained he threw himself down onto his bed without changing his clothes.
"I'm never taking Veritaserum again!" he vowed quietly.
He closed his eyes as he reluctantly recalled the moment he admitted his feelings for Hermione Granger. Even the memory of it made him flush with embarrassment. Fuck! He thought in frustration, I got carried away I said too much! God-dammed truth serum! He had never intended to reveal how strong his feelings were for the Muggleborn witch. But Snape had made him so angry - he'd felt a powerful urge to prove he wasn't some stupid schoolboy, moping over a crush - and before he could stop himself Draco was spilling all his desperate hopes and desires. I must have sounded like an idiot! Still there was nothing he could do to take it all back now. Draco could only hope that they kept their word and not reveal his secret. He rolled onto his side and pictured Granger's face in his mind; the way her eyes lit up when she was angry, the shape her mouth made when she was on the verge of hexing him. Merlin I'm pathetic, he thought irritably as he slipped off to sleep, a faint smile on his lips.
Author's notes:
Sorry its taken so long for me to upload but I've just found myself really busy lately and I haven't had much time to write. And for any Fans of my DarkSpawn series let me reassure you that I will be updating that soon and I'm not about to abandon it, just be patient and the story will continue to reveal itself. Well I hope you enjoyed this, I'd love to hear what you think of it.
P.S. If you notice any mistakes I may have overlooked please let me know.