Hope you enjoy this my loves...
Grimmould Place echoed with the sound of two elevated voices. They tumbled down the stairs, filling up dark corners and reverberated off closed doors to unused rooms. Harry stood, unable to intercept the argument or placate the situation. He and Ron had returned to the house for their lunch break, but food had ceased to be the primary focal point when Hermione had called them upstairs to the cramped library and divulged her future plans for the mother and son. Now Ron and Hermione stood a rulers width apart bellowing into each other's faces. "I've had just about enough of you Ronald Weasley! Your petty, childish attitude towards my current associates has ticked me off for the last time. You are unwilling to support or even reassure me that what I am doing is productive, instead you stand there hurling slurs just like the couple I am trying to help. You're a hypocrite of the worst kind because you are blind to see that your actions and words are exactly the same as the ones you fight so hard against". Ron's beet face reared back, nose flaring like that of a horse, his breathing was sharp.
"Yano what 'mione, I give up. Go play savour of the damned if you want but don't come crawling back to me when those Death Eater scum leave you in-" the air rippled with a high pitched crack. Ron stumbled back clutching his cheek, a look of utter astonishment colouring his eyes. Hermione's hand was still raised in midair, her voice low as she leant her body forward.
"This conversation is over". Straightening she turn swiftly and left the room throwing a warning glance in Harry's direction. The door clicked shut after her, silence descended over the boys as they both stared at the now empty spot the woman had been standing in.
"What in the bloody name of Merlin's sodding underpants has gotten into her?" Ron breathed rubbing the handprint on his face. Harry opened his mouth then closed it, opened it and closed it again, in all honesty he was at a loss as to how to answer that question. It was rare for Hermione to loose her temper to that extreme, in the years since first meeting her, Harry could only pick out a few occasions to compare to this one. Once when she'd landed a punch on Draco's nose, second when she'd sent a flock of canaries after Ron when he'd being seeing Lavender and thirdly when the red head had returned shame faced and all humble whilst they'd been on run. True the woman was volatile when passion took control but physicality had never been her chosen response, rather choosing to outsmart her opponent with intellect and whit.
Reaching out he squeezed Ron's shoulder "I dunno mate, but perhaps you shouldn't refer to Malfoy and his mum by that term again, especially around Hermione. Who knows what she'll do to you next time, and I for one would not want to be on the receiving end of her wand".
Ron snorted and shook his head, "I just don't get it, she's hated - we've all hated them since our first year, and all of a sudden, just because Kingsley's told her to play nice, she's now defending them".
Harry felt his eyes begin to roll, "I don't think Kingsley told her to play nice, you know the only reason she's spending any amount of prolonged time with them is because she considers this a job. Hermione wouldn't actively choose to waste her time nor energy on them. I mean com'on it's Malfoy we're talking about, let alone his mother".
Ron nodded dolefully, "Yeah I guess you're right, but I still don't like it. The thought of them being near her, it's like they're tainting her Harry". The redheads eyes shone with emotion, emotion they both knew was unrequited. Embarrassment at Ron's tone caused Harry to look away from his friends face, he would never admit it to anyone but he'd been silently thankful when Ron and Hermione's relationship had dwindled out. He'd had enough of Ron's moon eyes, and Hermione's caged animal attitude, it was evident to anyone who took the time to really assess the partnership that it was not going last. Both too different to be compatible, and each as stubborn as a mule to ever admit being in the wrong and working to fix it. No, it was better this way. Their friendship had been built on years of exasperation, frustration and care, rather than attraction and romance. Sometimes things were just not meant to be, irrelevant of Molly's continual hope at a reconciliation.
Nudging Ron Harry cocked his head towards the door, "Com'on best be heading back or we'll be in Mcfew's bad books".
"But we haven't even had lunch yet" Ron exclaimed consulting his watch and groaning at the time it read.
As if in protest the gingers stomach made a rather vocal input, Harry chuckled, clapped his hand on his friends back and said "I'll buy you a sandwich from the dining hall when we get back".
Placated at the prospect of food Ron grinned "Cheers mate".
Leaving the library and heading towards the stairs the conversation turned towards Ginny's birthday. Both knew it would be a riotous affair, full of people, drink and music; regardless of the fact the youngest Weasley didn't want a 'party' thrown in her honour. Still the thought of Ginny's teammates attending seemed to lift Ron's still slightly damp mood considerably. Just as they were about leave, Harry turned and called into the dismal house "See you later 'mione!" No answer. A small frown creased his brow, had she left already? They hadn't heard her leave. Cupping a hand round his mouth he hollered "Hermione!" Silence. Shrugging in response he turned, "Must've apperated out before we came downstairs".
Ron rose one shoulder in agreement, "Must've" he muttered.
Harsh winds battered Hermione's body as she popped into existence atop the Yorkshire countryside. The sky didn't reflect the peaceful blue she'd left in London, instead the sun peered desperately between the foreboding clouds. Strange she thought, that the same sun could inhabit a different sky. No, she shook her head, not a different sky, but a different surrounding. She scanned the horizon, endless grassland spread it's way to one side, whilst below her a higgledy piggledy town nestled itself inside a groove of the cliff face. The ominous ruin of Whitby Abbey over looked the town, its face still betraying its former regality. Breathing in the sharp sea air Hermione searched further for her destination. There on the opposite side of the town stood the curved exterior of Black Manor. A tightness gripped her chest, reality slapped her about the face as she scanned the building. Meeting with Narcissa and Draco in the confines of Kingelsy's office, or Pippins cafe was one thing, but here, here she was playing on their ground. The feeling of inadequacy invaded her body, true she was dressed respectfully, but the property she continued to stare at seemed to mock her, even from this distance. Steeling herself, she focused on the structure, turned and disappeared, reappearing almost instantly outside the exterior wall that surrounded the property. Turning back to glance across the town at where she'd just stood atop the opposite hill, she breathed deep and started skirting the wall looking for the entrance.
Reaching the gated front a memory flashed through her mind, another set of gates, hands gripping tightly at her arms and a grim facade of a building looming out of the miserable atmosphere. Malfoy Manor has looked and felt much different to the one she now looked up at. The mottled stone of the building lent a softer more weatherworn look to the place, whilst the pitched roofs, numerous chimneys and general structure showed its architecture to be that of Scottish Baronial. "Beautiful", Hermione thought, like looking up at history itself. She glanced at her wristwatch, she was an hour and a half early, would it be deemed as rude if she turned up to the tea date this early she wondered. Unsure of what to do, she touched the cold metal gate, acutely aware of the coat of arms mounted into the frame above her. The gates swung open, a soft squeak accompanying their movements, leaving the broad gravelled driveway unbarred for her to walk up. She swallowed. Magic wrapped itself around her as she stepped over the threshold into the grounds. It caressed her, old and ghostlike, years of shielding making it almost tangible to the young witch, it reminded her of entering the grounds of Hogwarts. She stood for a moment, basking in the feeling of ancient magic, before slowly but steadily continuing up the drive.
The closer to the thick double doors she got the stronger the magic became, she felt her heart quicken and a mounting burning on her forearm begin. Warning bells sounded in her head, something wasn't right, something didn't feel right. The scarred letters reverberated her pulse, she was approaching the looped carriage point, a perfectly manicured circular patch of lawn sat in its centre. The steps to the door were no more than fifty feet in front of her, yet the pain in her arm caused her feet to falter. Magic coursed through her body, touching her nerves, setting them on fire, a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. She just needed to get to the front door. Would Narcissa and Draco even be here this early, panic wormed its way into her gut, twisting with the pain. Her vision swam before her, knees spongy she felt humiliation coat her as the perfect lawn rose towards her. The last thing she saw before an all-encompassing darkness took her sight was one of the double doors opening to reveal a sinewy character racing towards her.
The smell of burning wood awoke her, groggily she tried to shift herself into a sitting position but felt a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder keeping her flat on her back. Trying to focus, she slowly began picking out her surroundings, a bookcase, a crudely scrubbed table with a cauldron sitting on it, flames licking at its underside. Alchemy bottles of varying colour and size lined the shelves behind the table. Bare flag stones made up the floor, and beneath her a soft, well-worn leather Chesterfield. Flicking her eyes upwards the curdled feeling of surprise and fear filled her stomach, the hand on her shoulder belonged to Narcissa, blonde strands of hair falling haphazardly from the intricate knot at the nape of her neck. Her mouth went dry, swallowing desperately Hermione tried to lubricate her throat. "What happened? Where am I?" She hoarsely asked, an unfamiliar expression passed across the blondes' face.
"You collapsed outside, my house elf saw you from the foyer window, she bought you to me and then we bought you down here so I could treat you".
Gingerly Hermione lifted a hand to her forehead to brush back some stray curls "Treat me for what?"
Narcissa glanced sideways momentarily, "When you entered the grounds, my family's magic recognised its kin inside you. That kin magic consumed you and that's why you fainted". Hermione blinked stupidly up at her, her usually quick brain was sluggish and foggy. Noticing the lack of understanding Narcissa motioned towards the young woman's forearm. "It appears that when you had that unfortunate interaction with my sister, she used a knife that was imbedded with her own magic, magic that reacts to that of its own blood".
Hermione scoffed quietly "Unfortunate interaction" she muttered bitterly lifting her injured arm above her head to get a better look at it, Narcissa politely pretended not to hear. A treacle like substance coated the scarred letters, the pain was near enough gone but even without running her fingers over it, Hermione knew it would be tender to touch.
"I did the best I could with what I could find on such a short and desperate notice" the blondes voice was soft.
Closing her eyes briefly Hermione focused her attention on gathering her dwindled strength, "Thank you Narcissa, I'm lucky you were here, I've never felt such powerful magic like that before". She looked up again into the pale face of the woman beside her, who's hand still rested on her shoulder.
"Think nothing of it, but I'm afraid you're going to be quite weak for the next day or so. Appariting is definitely out of the question, and muggle transport back down to London will only exhaust you further. I think it's best, at least for tonight, that you stay here. I will owl Mr. Potter and the Minister letting them know what's happened and where you are. Then I'll have Mooshie make up a spare room in the same wing as Draco and myself in order to be on hand if you need me". There was no room for arguing, even if Hermione had wanted to protest, she knew deep down that what the blonde was saying was logical and true, she wasn't strong enough to move let alone travel. Exhaling in defeat she gave a short nod and felt the elegant fingers squeeze her shoulder. "I'll wait with you until you have the strength to stand then we'll move to the library, it's a little after four, so we'll have tea when we are settled". Hermione gave another quick nod then returned to looking about the room.
"What is this place?" She asked raising an eyebrow at the woman next to her, who to her surprise looked a little bashful.
"It's the family's still room, a multipurpose room used for potions, both medical and general, as well as more extremes forms of cooking. The women of my family have been using it for generations, it has always been the role of at least one woman in a generation to learn and pass down knowledge".
"And because you had an aptitude for potions, I'm taking it was passed to?" Hermione asked watching the woman curiously.
Narcissa gave a tight-lipped smile, "Yes. I became my grandmother and mother's apprentice at eleven when my first school report came through and I was praised as being somewhat of a prodigy. I didn't have a choice, we all thought it would be Bel-" her voice caught at the mention of her elder sisters name, swallowing the sudden lump Narcissa pushed on "- we all thought it would be Bellatrix, and for a few years before my report came through she was mentored. I think it came as a relief to her when my grandmother declared that it should be me, not her to carry on the tradition". She was staring at the fire beneath the cauldron, lost in its flames as the memory poured from her lips. A sudden feeling of intruding made Hermione fidget slightly, sensing the young woman's movement Narcissa flicked her eyes downwards again. Embarrassed at divulging such an intimate memory she gave a polite cough and fixed a false smile to her mouth, "Do you think you can stand now?" The brunette nodded, Narcissa held out her hand, "Don't move too quickly". Slipping her hand into Narcissa's Hermione felt a shiver pass through her, the woman's hand was warm and soft, her slender fingers gripped her own in a strength that wouldn't be associated with the blonde before her. Slowly and as gently as possible Hermione pushed herself off the sofa, she was glad of the older woman's steadying hand, her legs felt like twigs ready to snap at any given moment sending her crashing back to the floor. They stood there for a moment hands held looking at each other. In the flickering light from the fire and candles dotted about the room Narcissa didn't seem to tower above Hermione anymore, in fact she now realised that the woman was only a few centimetres taller than herself.
"It must be her persona and exuding high station that always made her appear so much taller" Hermione mused, scanning the woman's face.
"Now I want you to put as much weight as you wish on me, the library is on the first floor however, we are currently in the one of the many vaults under the manor, so we have two flights of stairs to get up. Are you sure you feel strong enough?"
Setting her jaw Hermione nodded, "Just so long as we keep moving I should be fine".
Narcissa managed to control an eye roll at the evident pain the young woman was in, "If you insist" she muttered, gracefully moving to stand beside her and placing the trembling hand about her waist. Hermione fought to keep a sharp inhale quiet as a slender arm wrapped itself about her midriff and pulled her close into the curve of the blondes' hip. Fine material slipped under her fingers as the pair began to move slowly towards the base of the vaults' stairs. As delicately as she could muster, given her weak state, Hermione held on a little tighter to Narcissa's frame, she could feel the contours of the woman's hips moving as they walked. "Take the handrail and use that to pull yourself up, I'll be right here to steady you, if you need to stop just say". Hermione nodded in response to the gently spoken words, gripping the smooth wooden rail she slowly began climbing, one foot after the other.
It wasn't until they were almost to the top that her head finally managed to catch up to her body, she became acutely aware of the feeling of the woman beside her, the unwavering grip on her right hand whilst the sensation of the other at the base of her back preventing her from falling backwards. A hot flush coursed through her, unable to look at the figure beside her Hermione focused on the last few steps they had to climb before reaching ground level. A thin sheen of sweat caused by pain, exhaustion and embarrassment coated her back and forehead. This only added to her discomfort at being so close to the woman beside her, she Hermione Granger was being supported by Narcissa Black, in her house, up her stairs. The utter ludicrousness of the current situation made her feet waver slightly as they reached the top step, hands gripped firmly pulling her close again. So close in fact that the scent of Narcissa's skin found its way to Hermione. Vanilla, full and heady invaded the young woman's senses, she felt her eyes close momentarily, breathing in the unfamiliar scent. "I think it would be best if we stop for a while", Hermione's eyes flickered open to find Narcissa gazing at her intently. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, this only caused Narcissa to angle them towards a chaise longue situated beside an impressive staircase. Panting slightly Hermione fought desperately to control her breathing and mortifyingly her sweating. Unperturbed by both Narcissa placed the back of her pale knuckles against the seated women's temple, a slight crease formed between her eyebrows. Sitting herself next to Hermione she took up the treacle covered arm and bought it into the light. The frown deepened. Lowering her face closer, she gazed at it, Hermione watched her confused. Finally, the blonde tutted, "Of course" and without even lifting her head, called out in a crystal-clear voice "Mooshi!". There was a faint pop beside Hermione's knee causing her to flinch in surprise, looking down she felt her eyes grow wide. Beside her stood the smallest and, oddly enough, well dressed house elf she had ever seen. What appeared to be a heavily detailed curtain was wrapped around it's tiny body like a Grecian toga and held in place by twisted ropes. She stared, chest still palpitating, as the little creature crossed to stand next to Narcissa who had begun to tenderly examine the rest of Hermione's arm. "Mooshi, I need hot water, salt, muslin cloth and a strip bandage".
The little elf nodded "Yes Mistress" and then vanished. Silence descended, the memory of Dobby in Harry's arms flashed through Hermione's head, tears welled up behind her eyes, but before she had a chance to recite some old line from her S.P.E.W days Narcissa beat her to it.
"Mooshi is treated perfectly well here Hermione, I understand your feelings about 'House Elf enslavement', Draco enlightened me about your 'S.P.E.W' campaign, but I have always treated my elves with respect". A tear dripped down Hermione's cheek, she wanted to argue but as the words formed, a whisper issued from the still bent head of Narcissa "Even Dobby".
A flare of annoyance caused the brunettes words to bite "If that's true then why did Dobby want to save Harry, why was it that he disobeyed his orders and ultimately die by the hands of your family?" A ringing silence fell, both women sat tense as the words echoed repeatedly inside their heads. Mooshi's pop broke the suspended moment, levitating a bowl of steaming water onto the floor beside Narcissa's heel clad feet the little elf handed over a perfectly folded muslin cloth and wound bandage,
"Will Mistress be needing Mooshi's help?"
Narcissa shook her head "No thank you Mooshi. Miss Granger and I will be in the library shortly. I'll call again when tea can be served".
Bending so low her ears nearly brushed the polished floor Mooshi gushed "Of course Mistress Black". Distaste filled Hermione's mouth at the adoration in the elf's few words. Once Mooshi had vanished again, back to the kitchen no doubt, she allowed her eyes to fall on the blonde next to her, Narcissa was dipping the muslin in the hot water.
"This is going to hurt" blue eyes found hers as the older witch placed the boiling cloth at the top of the treacle coat.
"What, why?" Fear trickled down her still palpitating chest, why was she still panting?
"It appears you are allergic to one of the ingredients in the paste, Maple sap most likely. I couldn't tell in the still room, light wasn't adequate. It's what's causing you to still be short of breath and burn up such as you are. I need to remove it. Like I said this will hurt". Holding Hermione's gaze Narcissa pressed down hard and pulled the cloth towards her, scrapping the paste off as she moved. Boiling pain engulfed Hermione, it felt like her skin was splitting apart, peeling off in strips. She yelped and grabbed for the blonde's hand as it moved back up to her elbow, ready to swipe down across the letters again. "I have to remove it all otherwise you are likely to get blood poisoning, and that is even more painful to treat". Biting her lower lip Hermione turned her face away, tears now streaking down her cheeks, again the splitting feeling tore across her arm, she flinched and felt her wrist slip away from Narcissa's grasp. Eyes closed she grappled blindly for something to hold onto, fingers wrapped themselves around her own. "Last time" the soft voice mutter beside her. She didn't mean to squeeze so tightly but as the feeling of the cloth moved over the cursed word, she couldn't help but tense every inch of her arm and hand. Buckling forward she groaned out, head almost touching her knees, hair falling like a hazel waterfall about her face. The sound of a wet slap caused her to look sideways, Narcissa was soaking a clean cloth in the bowl, the paste covered one abandoned on the floor. The feeling of warm fabric wrapping itself around her arm slowed her panting. Narcissa's fingers were still gripped within her own, whilst the other was gently pressing down on the wet cloth, massaging the salt water into her open wound. Blue eyes flicked towards her, a grim smile curving her lips "Better?" The question should have been rhetorical, no one would be better after that, but Hermione nodded mutely, lips parted, breath still slightly ragged. The pair continued to look at each other, their silence broken only by Hermione's breath and the distant tick of a clock.
Finally, after a few minutes Narcissa unwrapped Hermione's arm. She looked down at the slur, bright red and angry, raised upon the witches' arm. Dropping the now cool cloth onto the floor next to its familiar, she raised a tentative hand, Hermione noticed its tremble. The sensation of Narcissa's fingertips ghosted across the wound, a faint pulling moved beneath her skin, like a hook imbedded deep with it. For a moment the blonde could do nothing but stare, transfixed upon the childish scrawl, so unlike her sisters usual writing style. She gave a faint gasp and snatched her hand away, breaking whatever pull there had been between her and Hermione. "I need to cover it. It'll get infected otherwise" avoiding eye contact, blonde hair reflecting the light from the candelabra above them, Narcissa began to gently wrap the roll of bandage around Hermione's arm, fingers moving deftly until the two ends met and she expertly tied and tucked them away. She would never admit it, but Hermione couldn't help but marvel at the woman's dexterity, clearly she possessed more skill and tenderness than her past portrayed. Ministrations done with, Narcissa stood, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Her usual 'Lady of the Manor' facade had crumbled the moment Mooshi had bought Hermione to her, and now with the woman sat looking up at her with those gold tinted eyes and bandaged arm, words as a hostess failed her. Seeing the sudden bareness in the older witches face Hermione struggled up to stand before her, giving a half smile she cocked her head towards the grand staircase, "So just this one left to climb?" Relief flooded the blondes expression, giving a quick nod she offered up her hand once more, Hermione took it gratefully and moved to take up her previous position, curled partially into Narcissa's frame.
The climb to the first floor had been vastly different than that of the vaults, Hermione had stared about them as she'd joltingly pulled herself up the magnificent staircase. Portraits and landscapes had lined the wall on the way up before stopping to give way to an extensive and familiar family tree. Pale stems twisted across the parts of the wall Hermione could see, gold thread glinted names out at her a miniature face accompanying each. Narcissa, glancing sideways at the young woman linked against her, saw the calculating look in her eyes. Following it she felt a small smirk tug at her lips, "Extensive, isn't it?"
Hermione scoffed quietly "You could say that again, I've seen the tapestry in Grimmauld Place but this…" she motioned towards the unfurling tree "this is unquestionably detailed". She stopped, allowing Narcissa to relax her grip partially, and moved towards the decorative wall. Leaning close she scanned the names before her 'Alkaid, Rana, Lacerta' reaching out her good arm she was just about to touch the ancient tapestry when pale fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist
"Don't". Pain was written across Narcissa's face as she gently pulled Hermione's fingers away from her ancestors names, "I mean, the tree is infused with our blood, it will only make you feel worse by touching it, make you ache more to be near it". Curiously Hermione looked back at the wall, she didn't feel anything, there was no pull, not like when Narcissa's fingers had been millimetres from her scar. The only sensation she could pick out was a small pang of warning, which she deduced was not down to the tapestry but rather down to not wanting to annoy the blonde witch beside her.
"Infused with you blood, why?" She was watching Narcissa carefully, noting the way her eyes closed briefly as she slipped her arm back round her waist, the way her mouth set itself in a line before returning to its usual indifferent pout.
"That's how it keeps on growing, with each marriage, and birth, a single drop of new blood is added to the tree allowing it to link together and sprout new leaves and names".
"But why" Hermione asked "is it that this one is so vast and the one at Grimmauld Place is only a sixth of it's size?" Not even that she thought as they turned a corner and saw the tree continue to twirl its way ahead of them.
"The one in my Aunts house is only our immediate blood. This one, this one has been added to for centuries, it was professionally removed from my family's original residence and bought here some four hundred odd years ago. Though it has not been added to since Draco was born, I'm not even sure if any of our blood links remain. You could search forever and probably never find its end".
"What happens if you touch it?" Hermione questioned readjusting her hand against Narcissa's hip, it had slipped to where some would deem inappropriate.
"I feel connected, consumed, energized, controlled, whole" her voice was no more than a whisper, and she shook herself at yet again allowing this woman's question to lead her to opening up. Reaching the library's smaller double doors, she gently twisted herself from the injured witch, looked over her shoulder and plastered on a smirk, "Now I understand, from what you yourself have told me, and what Draco has over the years, books are your soul delight".
Hermione chuckled, "Yes I suppose that would be correct".
Narcissa's smirk broadened, taking the two handles in her hands she grandly declared "Then Miss Granger I welcome you to the Black Family library". The doors clicked open, and as smoothly as if they weighed nothing at all Narcissa pushed them open revealing a high ceiling room with a momentous fireplace at one end. Hermione felt her breath hitch in her throat as she stepped through the doorway after the blonde, for in between her and the fireplace were books, cases and cases of books. Words abandoned her, instead giggles issued from her mouth as she clapped her hands in front of it.
"I take it you're impressed?" Came a good-natured drawl from behind one of the bookcases, stepping into the light of one of the high arched windows Draco snapped a book closed and fixed Hermione with the exact smirk his mother was still wearing.
"Impressed is one word I'd use, yes!" She answered voice quivering slightly, "This is amazing, it's almost as large as Hogwarts". Draco nodded in agreement, then extended his arm towards a group of elegant looking armchairs. Taking the hint Hermione slowly made her way towards them, noticing the shakiness of her walk and bandaged arm as she passed, Draco cocked an eyebrow at his mother who shook her head warningly.
A small table sat between the elegant chairs, seeing the white knuckles as Hermione grasped onto one of them Draco graciously pulled it further out in order for her to sink down into it. Smiling up at him Hermione noticed his grey eyes flick quickly over the bandage, a heavy line appeared across his forehead. Seeing the battle behind her sons expression Narcissa called out "Mooshi" the house elf's pop breaking his concentration long enough to look up, shaking himself from his reveries.
"Mistress Black, Master Black. What can Mooshi do to serve you?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. Seeing this Narcissa felt a coy smile curl her lips, "Send up the tea Mooshi, but before you leave would you mind informing Miss Granger about your arrangements here with my family, perhaps then it would prevent her from expressing such a distaste at your perfect service". A blush flared out across Hermione's cheeks at the blondes jesting words.
The little elf turned and bowed to her "Miss Granger, Mooshi has served Mistress Black since she was a girl, Mooshi served all of the Black daughters. Then when Mistress married Master Malfoy Mooshi was sent away to work at Hogwarts. Mooshi has heard all about Miss Granger, and her friends. Then Mooshi went to work for Atlantia School of Magical Arts in America. When Mistress Black returned to Black Manor, she expressively asked for Mooshi to return to her. Mooshi did happily, and when she did Mistress Black informed her that Mooshi could have whatever she wished for as clothes, sleep wherever she wished and go wherever she wished. Mistress Black is the kindest witch Mooshi knows. Mooshi does not wish to ever serve anybody else, only Mistress Black and Master Black". The elf's eyes shone with adoration, the fire reflecting in them as she stared at the still pink faced Hermione. Turning back to face the amused Narcissa, who face was delicately resting on her fingers, leg casually slung across the other, elbow resting on the arm of her chair, Mooshi bowed low.
"Thank you for that Mooshi, now the tea if you wouldn't mind". The faintest pop sounded and the three were left alone, both blondes watching Hermione intently. Finally, Narcissa began to chuckle, low and sultry. She removed her fingers from her face, lips parted slightly teeth flashing in the firelight. "You see Hermione, with all your campaigns for equal and fair rights, you can't force an elf to want to stop serving. It's ingrained in their very being, like magic is to ours. I understand and commend you on your desperate and yet highly logical attempt to liberate every elf you meet, but please realise it is highly illogical to expect them to roll over and accept what you suggest".
Hermione blushed harder, "I didn't mention liberating them" she muttered in a desperate attempt to defend herself against the annoyingly correct blonde before her.
Narcissa chuckled louder, "No you didn't. In fact, you didn't actually say anything, but you see I could see it in your eyes, in your expression, you are far too easy to read Hermione".
Turning to face Draco Hermione sighed in mock exasperation "I take it, you told her about S.P.E.W then?"
She watched as the young man fought to control a grin that wanted so desperately to take shape "I may have let it slip that a certain witch was trying to free all the Hogwarts house elves and failing miserably at it. Although I will admit, I think I mentioned it out of humour rather than malice".
Hermione rolled her eyes again, lifting her hands in defeat she allowed a small laugh to coat her words, "Okay Narcissa you win. Looks like I will have to retired to my books in order to truly argue this point with you, both of you".
A delightful grin spread across the matriarchs face "Oh good, it's been too long since I had a compelling debate put towards me. I look forward to it Hermione".
Draco watched this interaction in quiet surprise, when had been the last time such a trivial conversation had taken place. Such a light-heartedness. Such normality, he couldn't remember. Mooshi popped into existence next to him, an ornate silver tray laden with symmetrical sandwiches and tiny cakes hovering in front of her, a large teapot clutched in one hand, cups, saucers and spoons balance in the other. The tray landed expertly in the centre of the small table, gracefully Mooshi placed the large teapot next to Narcissa and quietly began placing the cups and saucers in font of each of them, once done she gave a quick click of her long fingers, producing a china ramakin full of sugar cubes, bowed and waited to see if there were anymore orders. When Narcissa gave her a grateful nod she dipped her head once more and vanished. Picking up the beautifully designed teapot Narcissa uncrossed her legs and gracefully lent over to pour the steaming brown liquid into Hermione's cup first. "I thought you said you only drank tea in the morning?" The brunette asked, Narcissa smiled at the question, lifting the pot away and beginning to fill Draco's.
"I do, but however you are my guest and guests in my house always have tea. It would be rude for me to have anything other than what you are having, thus I am having afternoon tea". Hermione smiled politely and nodded, glancing at the table she noticed there was no milk, torn between asking for some and waiting to see if Draco or Narcissa even took milk with their tea Hermione watched as the blonde woman expertly moved from Draco's to her own cup. Once each had been filled to exactly the same level Narcissa readjusted herself in the chair, scanned the table once and, without even batting an eyelid, clicked her fingers and a small milk jug appeared in front of Hermione. The brunette glanced up at the woman opposite her, teacup balanced delicately between genteel fingers evidently trying to hide the obvious smirk. Draco watched his mother as he stirred a sugar cube into his tea, he knew exactly what she was doing, and it amused him to watch her showing off. For years she'd had to hide her light under a bushel, never exemplifying her skill and power in the face of guests. Yet here she was expertly showing her abilities in front of Hermione. He gave a practically silent snort and sipped his tea thoughtfully.
Settling back into her chair Narcissa sighed, "Shall we fill Draco in on what we discussed yesterday, or would you rather wait until dinner? Speaking of which do you like Pork Medallions, if not I can ask Mooshi to change the order for tonight?"
Hermione shook her head, "No, Medallions will be lovely thank you, and now is as good a time as ever to discuss our plans". Turning to face Draco, Hermione took a quick sip of her tea, placed the cup back in the saucer and ran her fingers though her hair. "Yesterday, your mother and I went for coffee in Diagon Alley, and whilst there I presented her with a proposition. That sometime in the future we all take a trip to America. I understand there will be reservations about such a trip, but I do believe that for your own benefit this could help elevate some of your, how to put it, more ingrained lifestyle choices. In seeing how other witches and wizards, and in certain circumstances muggles too, live, I believe you both will come to realise that how you have conducted yourselves throughout your life was not always been productive, for yourselves or anyone else".
Draco rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, it was an interesting proposition, one he was not surprised had been dreamt up by Hermione, still a warning voice in the back of his mind spoke "but if you leave the Manor, will they still be able to find you? At least inside the wards they can't touch you, but outside, in another country your both open for attack". He gave his tea another thoughtful sip before placing it back on its saucer, resting his elbows on his knees he looked at Hermione, there was no malice, no untoward expression in her face, her eyes stay steadily fixed on his own. Shrugging slightly, he lent back again, slinging a foot over his knee in a most ungentlemanly manner. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, when do you propose we take this trip?"
Hermione relaxed, expelling a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding, "Not yet, I think it would be prudent for us to spend a little more time together here in England before taking such a anomalous trip together, after all there is still so much to discuss and learn before we spend such a prolonged time frame with just each other as company. Best to walk before we run". Draco gave a good-natured scoff, whilst Narcissa smirked into her cup. Hermione was right, the idea of spending up to a month with just her and Draco for company set her shoulders into a fixture that was not entirely comfortable. Willing herself to relax she replaced her now empty cup to its counterpart and stood up, the still sitting pair watched her mutely. Gliding between the two closest cases she ran a pale digit across the leather-bound spines, her heart pounding hard against her ribcage. What she was about to do was unheard of, her family would have never allowed her to do this for anyone let alone a muggleborn. Gritting her teeth against the desire to forget this folly and return to her chair Narcissa stopped, finger resting upon a black bound book.
"Don't do it" her mind hissed, she swallowed, hooked her fingertip into the top of the spine and pulled the book out from its brethren. Taking a quick steadying breath, she left the case, back ramrod straight, heels betraying her quickened step. Hermione and Draco watched her intently as she approached. Stopping at Hermione's elbow the pair looked at each other, blue mirroring brown, a crease appeared between Narcissa's perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Lifting the book so it's cover could be read correctly, she gave a delicate cough, Hermione looked down at the title then back up to the conflicted expression on the older witches' face. "This should at least help with your understanding of my family's history. No one other than a Black has read it, but with knowing how much you respect and cherish books I cannot allow you to not read it. Especially if it will shed some much needed light on certain speculations about myself, and my family's actions". Hermione flicked her eyes back down over the books' cover, its title embossed in silver made her heart shudder; 'Black'. Reaching tentatively up to take the ancient tome she watched the numerous expressions dance in Narcissa's eyes, panic, fear, anger, pride. All conflicting, all just as strong. The moment she felt the weight of the book leave her hands Narcissa twisted away, desperate to be anywhere but beside the woman who contradicted everything she'd lived by.
Hermione weighed the book in her hands, felt its rough covering, ran a thumb along the pages edge. They felt wafer thin, flicked through too many times, oils from skin contact brittling their component. In her heart she knew the words written inside would unlock more questions than she dared ask, and yet with Narcissa's unspoken declaration of trust came a weight that sat in her stomach and refused to move, warning her to tread carefully. Looking up she noticed Draco flick his own eyes away from his mothers, desperate to cover the shocked and surprised expression he'd been giving her. Narcissa refused to look at her. Needing to break to sudden awkwardly laboured silence Hermione quietly placed the book on the table in front of her and said "I think light reading would be an understatement for this particular book, I look forward to reading it. Thank you".
Standing abruptly, Draco moved purposefully across to a decorative cabinet beside the fireplace. Pulling open the doors he selected three cut glass tumblers and a bottle to match. Golden liquid caught the light as he pulled the stopper out in a flourish. Hermione eyed him quizzically. Feeling her eyes on him he turned and gave her a confident smile then returned to pouring a generous measure of the golden liquid into each glass. Taking two in one hand and the remaining one in the other he crossed to where Narcissa stood glazing out of the window and offered one of the tumblers to her. She took it, then gently pressed her cheek to his. Hermione watched the unspoken thank you pass between the pair, an odd feeling of shame washed over her. For years she, Ron and Harry, and most of the Hogwarts population, had spent many an hour complaining and insulting Draco and his family, yet sat there, in a library beyond her wildest dreams, the words and memories turned sour in her mouth. Before her stood, a young man and his mother, sharing a quiet moment of love for each other as the son handed over a drink without being asked. Right then and there a steely determination grew inside her chest, to never judge a person, regardless of others opinions, without seeing behind closed doors, albeit large impressive doors. Hearing Draco's heels move in her direction she blinked away her thoughts and accepted the offered tumbler. Giving a shy smile up at her once nemesis, she mouthed thank you to him. Inclining his head towards her, Draco lifted his own glass and said in a voice so like his mothers, "To new beginnings". From behind his suited frame Hermione saw Narcissa turn, a gracious smile fixed in place, tumbler raised in toast.
Following the pair, she herself raised her own and repeated "To new beginnings". As one they all took a good swig of the brown liquid, eyes closed, allowing the hot burn to run down their throats eliminating the prior awkwardness. Hermione breathed in deeply, neat spirits were not her chosen poison, no alcohol was her chosen poison, but as the burn subsided and a pleasant honey flavour took over she thought to herself, "perhaps my pallet should change, in light of new companionship".
Yay! Think I made this a little more well rounded than the original. DT xx