A/N: I apologize, the blackouts hit my home and delayed all writing because we were without power for nearly a week. My home had two very close calls with trees that used to stand over 50 feet tall. One trunk missed us by only four feet and the other tree leaned just enough to miss the house with the main branches while grazing the gutters with some of the side branches and landing straight on my sister-in-law's car. It was frightening.
Also, please let me know what you think. This is my first work of fiction, and I could use encouragement and constructive criticism. That being said, I don't intend to begin each chapter with pleas for reviews. Thank you.
As everyone knows, I don't actually own these pawns. I merely set them on the board as I wish.
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He had followed his parents because family always comes first. But Draco Malfoy didn't understand what was all going on around him. First, his parents defected after only a few setbacks in the Dark Lord's favor. Not only that, but they dragged several whole families down with them. Next they followed the direction of some strange object that Dumbledore gave them to some place in the middle of nowhere, trudging the whole group through numerous muggle settlements only to find themselves on the mudblood Granger's new magical doorstep.
Life was perfect. Just perfect.
Draco resented being dragged down with his misled parents. He resented stumbling upon scarhead or the mudblood every day in that house. He resented being made under-professor to the younger children. And he especially resented uppity mudbloods who deliberately stole other people's parents and then decided to start looking so incredibly mouth watering. He hated that he could think of nothing but running his fingers through that mass of silky curls. The whole situation was simply wrong.
Charms was one of the fields in which Draco truly excelled. His wand work bordered perfection and his vast repertoire was unparallelled in his year. He got this natural inclination from his father, who was a master with the wand. This was why he was asked to teach the younger student-aged children from the Charms textbook, even though his demeanor resembled Snape's at times. His lessons were approved by his mother every day and supervised on occasion by his father, Old Mrs. Augustine Pips, Caspar Crouch, or Wetherford Cragg, all of whom came with the Malfoys the day they all fled the Dark Lord.
Teaching was one way to pass the time for Draco. He hated it in principle, but tried because his mother wanted him to help the youngers. He was always a sucker for anything his mother wanted. That, and he was bored out of his skull otherwise.
He knew that all of the others were trying their hardest to keep from going mad as well, so when he heard stringed instrumental music wafting down the halls on his way to his afternoon class session, he thought nothing of it.
"Open your books to three hundred twenty-nine. Stewart Ackerly, please begin reading with, 'All hexes contain...'" As Young Mr. Ackerly droned on in a voice that was obviously inexperienced in oration, adults began filtering past the open door, one by one and then in pairs. Draco wondered what was going on, but allowed the chapter's recital to continue because he knew some of his students performed better when they heard the explanations out loud instead of just reading it themselves. Since he didn't want to read it himself, he allowed the children to take turns practicing their oratory skills as well.
Once the chapter was finished, he began the practical portion of the lesson.
He demonstrated the benign hexes, listing the ones the students were allowed to attempt as he went through them.
"Oral Quiz. Miss Keddle, what are the three toenail hexes located in chapter 32?"
"Color Changing, Fungal Infection, and Removal?"
"Is that a question?"
"Umm," the girl hesitantly replied.
"Correct," Draco exasperatedly interrupted. "Appear sure of your answer even if you don't know a thing about it. Ask later if you have to. Miss Greengrass, name the seven common interstitial hexes."
"Leg Edema, Bloated Fingers, Bubble Butt, Squishy Nose, Rubber Lips, Fountain Hair, and Tears of Eternity," the young girl rattled off.
"Very Good. Mr. Finkley, classify the hexes we've learned today and give reason."
"Yes ,sir. Um, I believe they would be classified as Type 2A through Type 2D. That's because the victim could die from the damage, but only if it is never reversed in most cases. None of them are less than minor irritations, but none of them cause permanent damage if the counter-hex is performed within a full lunar cycle."
"Correct." Continuing the quick oral quiz, he checked their knowledge concerning the new hexes, then set them loose upon each other as partners.
Eventually, the students all mastered the new Class-2 charms and the lesson wound down. He assigned more reading and a bit of written homework before calling it a day and shooing them to their next mock-professor. As he walked back to his room, he realized that the music was till playing, but it was of a much higher standard than anything he knew his housemates to be capable of performing, so he followed the sound.
Hermione Granger was going mad. She needed some sort of outlet from all this stress. Sleeping in random places throughout the day just wasn't cutting it anymore as a stress release. It simply made her feel worse and more guilty for not only not being out in the thick out things, but sleeping like an old lady as well. She had to stay away from danger to keep the safe houses in use for the Order, but it killed her to be on the shelf. Her frustration came to a head one afternoon about two weeks after the boys left to search the Room of Requirement for the last horcrux, which they were pretty sure was Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. They only word she got from them was a message on the charmed coin in her pocket each evening that read, 'Both safe, no progress, still in ROR.'
'And try to do something for yourself for once, hmm? Something that will help center yourself so you don't burn out, 'kay?' He was right that she needed it when Ron had told her to be a little selfish, so she would be, time and conditions permitting.
She allowed for lessons with either Narcissa or Dagbert in the mornings, but now that most of the repairs to Witwick Commons had been finished or taken over by one resident or another, she found herself with large swathes of time in the afternoons that she didn't know what to do with. So she pulled out an old project of hers. Bringing muggle music to the magical world.
She'd isolated a charm that created a bubble of magical void, a sound wave conversion charm, and a hand-made rig that suspended the muggle device in the middle of the magical void by way of a shielding charm that rested on the top edge of the floating bubble. The two main problems she had to deal with were 1. powering the device and 2. broadcasting the sound waves in the volume of her choice instead of just to the room entire. She'd already experimented with a charm that used a tuner to locate radio waves, and she got a decent selection of classical music and discotheque rhythms while she was at Hogwarts, but that needed to be tested in this new location along with the other problems for the use of a tape deck or CD player.
Setting up the bubble void and its accompanying charms was the easy part of putting the whole contraption together. It took a very skilled hand to slip the noose over the shield to just the midway point, so it didn't slid to one side or the other. If she touched the edges of it before settling the weight onto the middle, then the charm collapsed and the entire thing had to be re-charmed from the ground up. Luckily, she was developing a deft hand and a light touch with the centering of the noose.
The classical music from the magically-enhanced tuner soared through the large ballroom room she'd chosen as her testing facility. It was, after all, the room that such a charmed contraption would likely be used most often. Within moments, the lovely Nocturne of Chopin wafted out of the bubble.
The Classical Radio Station was set to play whatever the disk jockey chose, and Hermione found she could relinquish some responsibility and just enjoy. The mood to dance hit her and she summoned her old leotard from one of her yet-packed moving boxes. She changed quickly in a hidden parlor just outside the ballroom's hallway entrance, tucking her hair up in a messy knot on top of her head.
The music beckoned her feet to prepare as she swished her wand once more to transfigure an old lawn chair into a proper freestanding barre. Tucking her wand away in a fold of her robes laying in a bag under her music bubble, she again charged herself with finding a good name for her contraption. She couldn't keep calling it the music bubble, it simply sounded too childish.
Within moments, the music swept her mind off to thoughts of swans and stages and old exercise routines. She stretched and focused on relaxing one body part at a time from her neck down to her toes. Her body eagerly remembered the pleasure of being gracefully posed and gave her no complaints as she eased back into the motions of her old ballet mistress' less than gentle routines. Her dance instructor, a rail thin woman in her mid-sixties by the time Hermione began classes, had loved all things Vivaldi and strongly believed that the fast paced music helped students develop strength and style.
The barre was home to her for so long throughout her rough primary school years. Bullies' name calling, rough shoves, kicks, and taunts all melted away at the bar and allowed her to keep the weird things from happening. When she allowed herself to get angry or frustrated, weird things always happened, and she fell into ballet with a passion after a suggestion from her grandmother, God rest her soul. Grandmother had encouraged Mum and Da to enroll Hermione because 'every young woman of quality needs to know how to move.' It took the better part of a year to sway the staunch feminist, but she finally relented when Hermione had a meltdown concerning the prohibition after a long day at school. The dining room's chandelier and all of the house's wiring had needed to be replaced as well. Until the Hogwarts' letter, they never knew why things happened, but they were pretty sure that Hermione had something to do with it. Her grandmother assumed she had a particularly strong guardian angel. Her mother and father, though they loved her dearly, had had fears that she was some sort of mutant. That letter was a soothing balm to their frayed nerves, because they were told she could finally learn to control her outbursts.
At the barre, it was easy to forget the pain she'd been dealt, the complications she'd encountered, and the morally questionable activities in which she'd participated. She closed her eyes as she grande pliéd and demi plied until she felt warmed up and a song came on for which she knew choreography.
With a quick wave of her hand, she magically pushed the temporary barre to the side of the room and joined the music with a well-remembered routine.
Occasionally, she noticed a head pop into view from the hall beyond, usually with a startled expression, but she paid the visitors little mind. This was her home, and they were guests. So what if she was dancing a muggle dance. If they didn't like it, they could leave.
Eventually, she saw Lucius Malfoy kind of settle in near the door. He wasn't exactly watching her, but seemed like he was just enjoying the music instead. Appearing contemplative, he didn't incite any comment from any of the other passersby or any fear from Hermione as she swooped and twirled.
Music was rarely heard in the halls of any magical home unless it was being performed live. Music interfered with hearing a spell's distinctive tone when cast, so musical devices were seen as dangerous and never really pursued. So, when Lucius heard a stringed orchestra come from the ballroom, he followed the sound to see a sight he never thought he'd see. Hermione was dancing in a black leotard, a sheer, green skirt, and and black en point shoes that lent her an air of elegance as she danced to the sweeping and twinkling exaltations of Vivaldi's four seasons. Her lightly-clad, lithe figure, seemed inhuman at that moment as she embodied the music and was not seductive in the least.
Her grace was unexpected for each passerby except Lucius, who'd seen her just days earlier in a graceful dance of a completely different caliber. Unlike most of the guests who followed the music, Lucius stayed, conjuring a chair, and sat at the doorway. He thought about how he could help her. What sort of lessons he could teach and how to get her to accept his tutelage.
Father caught sight of son as Draco rounded the corner to the open ballroom door. An earnestly curious expression alighted on the boy's face but he closed his expression once he saw his father casually sitting at a seemingly random doorway. Looking guarded, Draco viewed the scene in the ballroom.
The girl inside danced and danced in a foreign yet beautiful manner. It seemed to stir longings Lucius didn't think his son knew. It wasn't desire of the flesh that welled up, but a desire for all things good and sweet and gentle. Just as Lucius was moved by this slip of a girl, his son simply desired a friend in that moment.
Draco retreated back to the guest hall and his own bedroom and the safety of his afternoon studies.
Lucius spent several hours watching the girl move, thinking of the roles he'd taken in the war and in society before actually meeting Miss Granger. He was so deeply entrenched in his mental meanderings that he didn't notice when Hermione turned off the music and approached him with an open robe covering her dance clothes and a towel in her hand.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. I didn't expect you to stay as long as you did. I don't mind in the least, but I am afraid I need to prepare for dinner now. I've finally worked off some of my nervous energy."
"Good evening. May I walk you back to your room? I've a proposition for you."
"Alright. This way," she said, motioning toward the main living area. As they made their way past the empty drawing room, the empty library, and the empty parlor, he began.
"I noticed you training one night a while back since you left the Reverter Shield Charm off of the door to your practice studio. I felt the magic thrumming. To be honest, it was a bit terrifying until I actually found that you were behind the disturbance. I thought we were besieged."
"Sorry about that, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said sheepishly. Lucius held up his hand.
"No, it is alright. It merely brings me to my point. I know you plan to go out and meet the opposition in the final battle when it arrives. Your character would allow no less, but you are having some trouble in certain areas of your combat training that I could remedy for you. Those spells you were using only challenge so much, and you've already mastered their use. They are not as good as a horde of death eaters will be. You must be trained further if you wish to survive the coming battle."
"You want to train me?" Hermione stopped in the hallway and looked at him, shocked.
"Yes. It is my duty to rectify the wrongs I've done. I can make sure you are ready." Hermione wasn't sure why he felt that way, even if he really did. She worried for a few moments over the possibility that he was setting her up for something, but she decided that the giving him a second chance was what Professor Dumbledore wanted. So she would give him that chance.
"Alright, Mr. Malfoy. We'll give it a try."
"Good. Perhaps we can talk with Cissy tomorrow during your morning meeting."
"Ok. Thank you. Um, I guess I'll see you at dinner, then?"
"Of course, Miss Granger."