We're gonna time-travel today, so hold onto your butts. This thing has grown beyond what I anticipated, so if you're wondering how many more chapters we have until the end, uhh... we have quite a few. So far, I have up to chapter 12 outlined and/or partially written, and it isn't done yet. As I'm writing this in one continuous document, it's no wonder it grew.

Thank you for all the support. Hopefully dshell99 doesn't ground me again, but she might. She just might.

Standard dislaimers apply, warnings in chapter 1.


18 Months Prior

"Ms. Black," the voice was still the same, warm honey with a backbone, though Narcissa had never personally spoken to Hermione exactly. She did, however, recall hearing the woman speak at various charity functions most recently and before that, sporadically in the street or store during school shopping or in various school happenings.

"Bombarda Maxima!" Narcissa cried, pointing her Cumaru wand, the wood reverberating a near groan as it worked to allow the magic through. The spell hit the tree to the left of the Death Eater nearby, his wand pointed at one Hermione Granger. The tree seemed to swell for a moment, Narcissa's wand deciding its witch's intentions were in line with its own will; to protect, to defend, to survive.

A half second later, the tree exploded in a hail of violent splinters, two or three large enough to impale the Death Eater before a syllable could leave his lips. The strays bounced harmlessly off a hastily made Protego the girl had erected. Ice blue met honey gold as the two women made eye contact and the body of the Death Eater- 'McNair,' she recalled idly, slightly dazed from the sheer power needed to keep up in this battle- fell to the side, dead. Hermione's wand raised and Narcissa flinched, eyes shut tight.

"Crucio!" Narcissa understood then that, no matter what, some grudges ran too deep. A tear fell down her dirtied cheek, only to be swept away as the Unforgivable flew past. If she concentrated, she could feel the heat of the intent needed to fuel the spell.

"You have to really mean it," her sister had cackled time and again to her son. Miss Granger really meant this.

"This is for Lavender!"

Another thud of a body resounded dully behind her, her clenched eyes snapping open. Blonde hair joined her wild brunette, hair pins flying loose with the force in which the Malfoy matriarch's head spun to regard the twitching body of Fenrir Greyback just paces away. The werewolf's back arched in pain once more then was overcome by the sickly green of an Avada. A cooling sensation washed over her charred right arm, and whispered sing song chanting followed. Fatigue soon followed, black spots dancing in her vision. The muggleborn witch's voice filled her ears, stronger this time, relief washing over her soul at the soothing tone.

"Rest now, Mrs. Malfoy." The last thing she remembered was the squeeze of apparition before everything turned black. "Draco is safe."

"Miss Granger," Narcissa greeted the young woman with a polite half hug, lightly kissing both cheeks, stepping into her office and closing the door. "Thank you for taking the time to see me today." Hermione, doing her best to hide her confusion at the informal, downright friendly greeting the former Malfoy had extended, gestured to a comfortable yet professional chair before her desk, inviting her guest to sit.

"Think nothing of it, Ms. Black," Hermione replied, smiling politely, curiously. "Would you care for tea?" She waved a hand toward the service tray on the desk. Small tins of loose leaf tea sat alongside three porcelain dishes containing, Narcissa guessed, sugar, milk, and honey.

"Earl grey is just fine, thank you," she replied genially, pulling her gloves off and setting them aside. Watching the girl make tea was oddly enchanting. The parents Granger must have taught their daughter the proper manner in which to serve tea, which spoke of good breeding. Further observation revealed her precise posture, the rod straight back of etiquette classes making itself obvious. Internally, she cringed with sympathy. Those classes were horrible.

Granger was almost disarming with her general size and bone structure, making her seem delicate. They both knew that was a lie, if the events in that godsforsaken drawing room were any measure of how fierce the Golden Princess really was. Narcissa wondered in the back of her mind whether or not the young woman enjoyed dancing. She had a ballet form, if a bit curvier, and yet Narcissa could easily picture Hermione twirling through the Wizard's Reel or spinning ribbons at Beltane.

She had elegant fingers, and deftly measured tea into a ball to steep. "How have you been?" There was no wheedling in the girl's voice, no underlying desire or intention. Just an innocuous question to fill the space between them. It had an odd effect, loosening the knot of tension Cissy held which had otherwise gone unnoticed until it was suddenly no more.

"It's been a long day, and it's only eleven," Narcissa sighed back, accepting her tea with a nod. She leaned forward to add a splash of milk. "Lucius is throwing a fit that I don't want more from our divorce agreement, and absolutely hates the fact that Draco won't accept any of the courtship proposals he's set up so far."

If Narcissa's uncharacteristic honesty took her by surprise, the witch seated at the desk didn't show it. Instead, she sipped her tea, nodding thoughtfully. "You'd think a man would be happy his ex-wife doesn't try to take him for everything, really. You heard about the Selwyn affair." The witches shared a loaded look. Aletheia Fawley, formerly Selwyn, divorced her husband most recently in the tidal wave of high profile splits, the gains of which were the subject of many an afternoon tea.

A beat passed. "Mr. Malfoy does realize Draco is gay, right?" Silence fell between them, Hermione looking both chagrined and horrified. It couldn't be helped, then, when Narcissa giggled into her teacup.

"I think he knows, but he doesn't know. Gods help any single wizards once he finally tells Lucius. He's almost as bad as Nana Rosier with his meddling. I suspect he's a bit lonely, really."

Hermione nodded, sipping her tea. "My parents separated when I was fourteen, but didn't officially divorce until I was sixteen. I remember my father was fine, but my mum…" she trailed off, searching for her words. "They're best friends- always have been- but after they split up, mum seemed to lose a bit of herself. Like she felt less somehow."

Narcissa nodded and this time, when the silence stretched between them, it wasn't awkward. She took the time to look around the office, now just noticing all the personal touches. An oblong leather ball sat near a framed picture of Miss Granger and an older gentleman with similar features in a uniform. Having been to Andromeda's, she wasn't as unnerved when the photograph didn't move, but stared nonetheless.

"Is that your father?" She gestured, Hermione's gaze following her hand.

"Mmhmm. He's a dentist by trade - a tooth healer - but he enjoys sports in his time off. My mum is in the photo on the next shelf down." Sure enough, a woman not dissimilar to Hermione herself sat smiling politely while her daughter kissed her cheek, a birthday cake with candles lit before her. Warm prickles began behind Narcissa's eyes and she looked away.

"You look so much alike," she commented instead, covertly wiping the corner of her eye. "So I have to ask, did she find herself again?"

A tiny smile lifted one side of Hermione's face while she stared at the photo. "She's starting to, and that's what matters."

Narcissa smiled at the reply, and sipped her tea. 'Miss Granger will do quite nicely.'