Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction using characters and entities from the Wizarding World trademarked by J. K. Rowling. Original plots, dialogue, and characters are mine.

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Chapter 4: Mother Knows Best

They had made it through the week. The rivalry between Theo and Draco intensified after Hermione was paired with young Mister Nott in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Draco hoped to get paired with her in at least one more class, alas, that was not the case. Her other class partners included Neville Longbottom in Herbology, Michael Corner in Charms, Ernie Macmillan in Transfiguration, but nothing was funnier than when it was announced Pansy would be her partner in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The resounding cackles, hoots, and chuckles from the class as Hermione twirled her wand and sauntered to take her seat next to Pansy, almost caused the poor girl to run out of the class. Hermione handled it with style and class. She gave Pansy a wink and said, "This is going to be fun."

After a week of classes, studying, and just the stress of getting back into a routine, all the eighth years were eagerly looking forward to their weekend off. Though a few were staying behind to catch up on studying and Quidditch trials, many were taking advantage of time away from the school. Hermione had her school books packed and Crookshanks in his crate, excited to see her parents and pick up more resources for Muggle Studies class.

The carriages were waiting for the young adults, ready to take them to the apparition point in Hogsmeade. Everyone saw the thestrals now, and despite their grotesque nature, they were treated affectionately. They were a reminder of a loss of innocence but also of survival and victory. Hermione rubbed the forehead of the thestral leading her carriage and gave it one of the treats Hagrid gave her. She was about to climb in when she heard hurried footsteps.

"Granger wait!" Draco huffed as he caught up to her. He held out his hand and said, "Allow me."

She graciously accepted his offer, impressed with his gentlemanly manners. The Draco of two years ago would have probably pushed her in the mud—this was a welcome change. "Thank you, Draco. Are you heading into town?"

He was still outside of the carriage, shuffling his feet nervously, "Yes. Would you mind if I rode with you?"

"Not at all," she smiled.

"Thank you." Draco hoisted himself up with a little jump, displaying his athletic prowess, despite wearing a fine tailored suit and pressed robes. He noticed Hermione curiously eying his garb. "Oh, I'm meeting my mother for breakfast. She has certain...expectations."

"Granger!" a distant voice called. Draco looked over, and saw it was Theo. It didn't seem that Hermione noticed, so he made a clicking noise that caused the thestrals to take off.

"Did you hear something?" Hermione asked.

"Nope," he said, feigning innocence. He leaned back, attempting to be more relaxed around her. "So what are your plans when you get home?"

"My dad is making me American pancakes. Even ordered maple syrup from Canada. I've been obsessed with American breakfast since I was little." She licked her lips, already able to taste the fluffy, buttery, pancakes.

She just has to show me her tongue and lips, doesn't she? Before he let his internal dialogue go crazy again, he asked, "Did you travel a lot before Hogwarts?"

"Well, yes. Every summer. Even while at school. We went to the States three times before I turned twelve. Once to Orlando to go to theme parks, once to New York to see the city, then we drove up to Niagara Falls, and once to the Grand Canyon and Monument Valley. And of course, we've been to France and across the continent. I'm afraid that my French isn't as fluent as it once was. I never have anyone to practice with. It was nice when Beauxbatons was here during fourth year. I got to dust off some of the rust."

"Parlez-vous français?"

"Oui mais pas beaucoup."

"Je vais pratiquer avec vous,"he said with a sly grin. Smart. Practice French with her. Then I'll have my own special thing with her that Theo can't weasel into.

"I'd like that, Draco," she hid a blush.

Is she blushing? Did French actually get her to blush? Merci! With a new found confidence, he kept the conversation going. "My parents have a home in France. It's usually where we spend part of our summers. I wish they were more adventurous travelers. If they don't have an estate and elves, they're hopeless."

"So what did they think of your apprenticeship plans?"

With a roll of his eyes, he put on his most sarcastic demeanor. It was one that Hermione recognized well. "Father couldn't see the point of it as he thought I would like to be in the country to witness the Dark Lord's ascension. Mother, on the other hand, didn't want me to go, because that meant she would have to be alone with them. But under Severus' convincing, she came around."

"You call him, Severus."

"Well, he was my godfather."

"No! How did I not know that! Ugh! That makes so much sense. The way he favored you!" She moved from her seat across from him and sat next to him so she could swat him on the arm playfully.

She's here. Touching me. She smells so nice. Keep cool. Wow, those muggle clothes really fit her well. Her tits are really perky. Oh Merlin, no. Bunch up your robes right now.

"Something wrong, Draco?" She asked noticing a shift in his behavior.

"No. Not at all. I was just, um, admiring your perfume and your outfit," he choked out.

"Is that a joke? Because I'm not dressed all proper?" She became defensive.

"No! It was a genuine compliment. Honestly. What teenager actually wants to dress like this to have breakfast with their mother? I'd like to relax around her, just once."

"Relaxed is good." The words just spilled out of her mouth as she was now close enough to smell his cologne as well. Catching herself and shifting away from him, she said, "I guess your parents are the type to be really set in their ways."

"You don't need to remind me," he wanted to clam up and stop talking about them, but he couldn't control the word vomit. "I love my parents, I do. But I also hate them. Well, my father. My mother is— complicated. They raised me with this sense of superiority without ever seeing both sides of the coin. Tell me how special I am because of my name and my family. Then I get my letter. I come here, and everything defied everything they instilled in me. Poor purebloods. Rich Muggleborns. Highly intelligent, upper middle-class muggleborns," he pauses and looks her in the eyes, "half-bloods, whose pureblood parents were cast out of their families for following their heart."

"Like your aunt."

"Yes. You know her, don't you? And my cousin, Nymphadora? The one who married Professor Lupin."

She nods her head and gives a soft laugh, "We never called her Nymphadora. She hated it. We just called her, Tonks. She was kind, brave, and so funny. She was like a big sister to Ginny and me. When she and Remus married—she brought so much light into his life." Tears threatened to fall as she reminisced her fallen friend and mentor. Draco heard the strain in her voice and hands her his monogrammed handkerchief, "Thank you. Your Aunt Andromeda is a lovely woman. She's raising their son, Teddy. I don't know if you know this, but Harry is his godfather and is planning on visiting them tonight after Quidditch trials."

"I never met them. My mother and aunt haven't spoken to each other since she ran off and got married. You know, Nymph — Tonks, was my only cousin? On both the Black and Malfoy sides," he said wistfully, wishing he knew his whole family. "I didn't know about Potter being Teddy's godfather. In some bizarre way, we're almost related, aren't we?"

"I guess so," she laughed. "You may not like this, but you know he inherited the Black wealth and estate from Sirius. But he's already set aside a trust for Teddy, so much of it will be going back to the Black family."

"Oh, I heard," he laughed. "You would not believe the uproar from Bella—" he caught himself and doesn't continue the anecdote.

Hermione notices his restraint and puts her hand on his knee. "Draco, I'm not afraid of names. You should know that much about me."

He turns to her and puts his hand on her knee and said, "No. You're not."

"Well, when I had a sod like you teasing me since I was twelve, I couldn't help but build up a tough skin."

"I was a little shit. You can say it. An idiotic, self-righteous little shit, who couldn't see past the end of my nose."

"I think arsehole would also work or posh prick," she joked.

They leaned closer and closer into each other as the banter continued.

"Stop pretending you're not posh. I've seen your photo albums, remember. Your six bedroom, terraced home in Heathgate, international holidays, your parents meeting at University, you dreaming of attending Oxford. Oh, and you speaking French. You're not as common as you like to pretend, Hermione Granger," he smirked.

"After one week of casual conversation, you think you know me? Oh, Malfoy. You are just scratching the surface." she bit her bottom lip as he moved in closer still. The carriage came to a halt, and she realized what almost happened. She scooted away and blurted, "We're here."

Draco ruffled his hair, unable to believe how open and honest this conversation has been and how close he came to kissing her—maybe. "It appears so. Let me get out first." He helped her out of the carriage and walked her to the apparition point. "So when will you be back? Maybe I could meet you here. I mean, in case you need help carrying anything back to the castle."

"Oh, um. Thanks for offering. I'm not sure, but I have my bag, so carrying things isn't really a problem. But I'll be back for our study session on Sunday at seven, right after dinner," she tried to avoid his suggestion, but it was sweet. "Here's your handkerchief. Thank you for letting me use it."

"Keep it. I have more," he shrugged as he put his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," she waved and popped out of sight.

Theo ran toward Hermione but missed his opportunity. He bent over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. "Damn it," he panted, "What happened? What did you talk about?"

"I just pulled, into the lead, Theo," he smirked. "Where are you headed?"

"Going into London. Need to go to Gringotts and then pick up a few things in the city." He stood after his breathing finally regulated.

"Anything in particular?" Draco asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know. This race isn't over yet," he said with a wink and disapparated.

"Draco," a stern voice called to him.

Shit. How long has she been standing there? He turned his head toward Narcissa's direction. "Hi, mum."

She wore the universally recognized look all mothers wear when they expect an explanation—tight lips, raised eyebrows, and wide eyes. What was worse is that her arms were crossed and she was tapping her foot. Draco realized she saw the whole thing and he didn't notice his mother at all.

"Oh, 'hi, mum,' is it? No, 'hello, mother, sorry I didn't notice you, I was too busy talking to a girl and Theodore.' Honestly, Draco. I know I didn't raise you to be so rude to your elders—"

Before she could rattle on and lecture him, he kissed her cheek and hugged her, "Sorry, Mummy."

Narcissa was an absolute sucker when it came to Draco, especially when he called her 'Mummy,' like he did when he was little. "So, was that Miss Granger you were talking to?"

"Yes, it was," he presented his arm to escort his mother down to the pub as the auror escorts followed behind.

"And she's speaking to you, despite everything?" Narcissa was taken aback considering her own misgivings and resistance to forgiveness.

"Surprising, isn't it? We have to work together in two of our classes, as partners. She was direct in telling me that she didn't forgive me or our family for everything, but she is working on it. Quite diplomatic."

"Interesting," Narcissa drew out the word as she put the pieces together in her mind. "She's certainly more forgiving that I am. If I nearly died at the hands of a boy's aunt, in his home, with him watching—I would have murdered him the moment his defenses were down." She saw her son grow uneasy at the comment and didn't push it further. "This young lady is quite the enigma isn't she?"

"That is one way to put it," Draco swallowed, wondering how much prying his mother would do.

"And your carriage ride? Did you only speak of lessons?" Curiosity was getting the better of the Malfoy Matriarch.

"We discussed travel, the French language, education beyond Hogwarts, and your family. Did you know Potter is godfather to Andromeda's grandson?" He was keen to share this with his mother as she always enjoyed being the first to hear of gossip.

"I haven't. But it's interesting that you bring up my sister. I've been doing a lot of 'soul searching,' if you will." Her statement took Draco off guard. They stopped in front of the pub, and she placed her hands on his shoulders, "You are the sole Malfoy heir. The Lestrange family is as good as dead with no heirs and no chance of clemency. The Black family is dead in name but lives on through us. The Twenty-Eight are dying out, and blood status is no longer relevant. What is relevant is family. I decided, I want to reconcile with my sister, and I don't give a damn what your father thinks."

"Really?"

"Yes, Draco. A war over blood purity killed my sister, my niece, almost killed you, destroyed my marriage, and left me broken—wondering where my archaic beliefs got me. I'm not going to tell you that the prejudice is eradicated because it is impossible to change over forty years of conditioning overnight. But—"

"Yes?"

She smiled watching her son anxiously awaiting what she had to say. "Merlin, I was hoping to have this conversation over a cup of tea and a hot breakfast…"

"Mother…"

"Whatever decisions you make in your life, or who you associate with, I, your mother, will be open-minded. So if by some miracle Miss Granger not only forgives you but actually wants a relationship with you, I won't object. But I'm betting she hexes you before she goes on a date. And if she does date you, we might want to get her head checked."

Draco stood there slack-jawed unable to believe what his mother just said. "Who are you and what have you done with Narcissa Malfoy? Also...How?"

"Draco...that day...the horror on your face when I made you identify her. And when Bella...it took everything I had to hold you back. I saw you try to lunge. I'm sorry Draco, I put you under the Imperius Curse," she wrapped her arms around him before he could push her away. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I was trying to keep you safe. It didn't hit me why you were so upset until after. I wasn't even completely sure until today."

"Mum, stop. I know what you did but I forgive you. Would I have loved to have been her hero? Probably, but I would have been a dead hero. That day haunts me, but it won't define me," he reassured her mother.

She pulled away and brushed her thumb against his cheek, "What a morning! Let's go into the pub. I think the aurors are getting a bit bored of hanging outside while we have our chat. Also, I think I'm going to need to drink something a bit stronger than tea, don't you?"

"Maybe just a bit. I have Quidditch trials after lunch."

"Plenty of time to sober up."

"Again, who are you?"

—xoxox—

"Dad, those pancakes were amazing! Hit the spot," Hermione rubbed her belly, satisfied with the meal.

"As good as that place in Florida on the springs?" he asked.

"Considering I was ten when we went there, I'll say yes. Yours were better," Hermione beamed at her father and took another sip of coffee.

"You ate breakfast so quickly, Hermione, we couldn't get a word out of you. How was your first week of school?" Her mother pointed out.

"Oh, brilliant. Well good...a little awkward. Um, fun? It was a lot of things, Mum," Hermione was at a loss for words trying to define everything that happened.

"I see a story coming on," her father said jokingly.

Hermione rubbed her face, not knowing where to start, so she changed the subject. "I thought you needed help in the garden. I could get everything done really quickly. Just a few quick spells and the fertilizer will be spread out and the repotting will be done—"

"No diversion techniques. What happened?" Her mother insisted.

"Well, Blaise, I told you about him, right?" she asked.

"Yes," her parents said in unison.

"He's brilliant. He's a great partner to work with and has helped with inter-house unity in the best way possible. We share the load and he wants my input for every major decision. It's a great working partnership. But, he has a crush on my friend Luna, who has a boyfriend. He seems like the type to wait. It doesn't look like he'll make any unwelcome advances."

"That's good," her father noted.

"Harry and Ron have also been busy and have been working hard to put their pasts behind them too, and be respectful and friendly with everyone. Harry's better at it than Ron, to be honest. But that's never going to change. So for all of our classes, we have partners. I'm pretty pleased with who I was assigned with, as they were all there last year, so I think I'll catch up quickly. But this is where my week got a lot more interesting."

"Go on…" her mother urged.

"Two of my partners have a crush on me, and they are friends, and have some type of competition going on as to who I'm going to end up with. Part of me is completely offended as I am no prize to be won—"

"Aladdin. You're quoting Aladdin, sweetie," her father chuckled.

Hermione laughed, realizing it to be true, "Well, one of them is smart, sweet, funny, and someone I don't have any bad history with. He used to be so quiet, but, something changed and I wouldn't mind getting to know him better. He's also tall and a bit lanky, but he has this really cute mischievous smile. Dimples too."

"And…" Her mother was getting a bit annoyed with her daughter's theatrics and pauses.

"And the other boy is Draco Malfoy."

"The boy who you said made you cry when he called you those names?" her father said defensively.

"The boy whose home you were a prisoner of war in?" Her mother's voice raised.

"The very same. My head tells me this is very, very bad and to not even entertain the idea. But he wrote this letter. This beautiful, well-phrased, sincere, twelve, thirteen page declaration of his apologies and professing his appreciation. Then he's been going above and beyond to make me feel welcome, and encouraging me to push to catch up with him in Potions, and French. Mum, he speaks French and wants me to practice with him. He's actually taking real interest in Muggle Studies with me as his group leader. Oh, I don't know what to do. There's just so much baggage, but I'm really seeing a new side of him.".

"Would you say there may be something there that wasn't there before?" Hugh joked.

"What is it with you and the Disney references, Hugh?" His wife laughed.

"Oh, Mum, Dad, you have no idea how much I miss silly pop culture references. Only about a quarter of the students at the school get them. But I really don't know what to do about these two. It's only the first week of school. I told them both I'm not looking to be in any kind of relationship. But then they do these really cute things that just make me smile—"

"Those are called hormones, Hermione." Jean said bluntly.

"Mum!" Hermione was utterly embarrassed by her mother at that moment. The fact her father went pale didn't help either. Eager to change the subject she said, "...Anyway...I think I could use a bit of 'muggle magic.' After I run my errands today, how about we pop Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin in the VCR?" Hermione asked.

"Interesting choices, sweetheart. The charming prince with a beastly exterior and the unassuming diamond in the rough," Jean shook her head. "I wonder if I should blame Disney for your taste in men...I swear we could quote those films with how often you watched them. It's a good thing we only watch them when you were home from school. I might have gone mad."

"So since I'm home from school, that's a yes?" she playfully suggested.

"Yes. But I have some other fun things planned. Gardening, errands, manicures, then dinner and a movie at home," Jean told her daughter.

"Ooh. What's for dinner?" Hermione asked eagerly.

Hugh spoke, "I'm picking up takeaway. I'll keep it within theme. I'll get kebabs for dinner and crepes for dessert."

"Sounds delicious," Jean agreed with his choices.

Hermione and her dad look at each other and say in unison, "Try the grey stuff! It's delicious! Don't believe me—"

"No." Jean cut them off; she had her limitations.

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