"It's a… no, I have no idea." Hermione asked, exceptionally confused.
"Alright. Promise to not laugh too much, mother has been keeping it somewhat quiet in the wizarding community because she's got some notion that it isn't very dignified. But it's an arts center."
"What?" Hermione was even more confused now.
"Look, we had a lot of space and money, and no way to reintegrate in wizarding Britain. Father turned into a somewhat sickly gardener, and mother became a community servant. There's a town around the manor. Which makes sense, right? Back in the day, this would have been the house of the local nobility with the village they served around them. Mother decided to go back to our roots."
"It's a center for the village to use? In your actual house?"
"Well, the dungeons are fairly not attached to the house, and accessible from the outside. It actually makes sense to turn them into something other than an extension of our home. And with only 2 people living here…"
"I get it. I just… I can't believe there's a dance studio, arts and crafts studio, and a piano in the place where…"
They were quiet for a bit.
"This is absolutely absurd, Malfoy. It was easy for me to believe that you left to reinvent yourself, and that your father didn't recover from the war, but to learn that somehow both of your parents became community servants, and the Malfoy manor is a modernized community center? It's barely plausible."
Malfoy thought for a while before answering.
"The Blacks and Malfoys have survived for centuries by choosing the winning side. And throwing ourselves violently behind them. I don't believe for a second that families are entirely dark or light wizards; look at my mother and her sisters. But there's nothing more Slytherin than being adaptive. We chose wrong. We volunteered our children and our homes to wrong. Is it so hard to believe that we're now ready to open our homes again and hope that we pick better this time?"
Hermione had nothing to say to that.
"Alright. Let's go back to the dining room and attempt to plan this mess of an event out for tomorrow."
It was growing quite late when Hermione and Draco were done with written plans for the funeral. Draco and his mother had thankfully done all the things that needed foresight, like informing friends and family, and reserving a plot and someone to orchestrate the ceremony. It was just a matter of logistics now, with arrangements of guests' lodging, things like flowers and seating in the house, and a few other matters. Some tidy spellwork and the house was prepared for guests. Hermione suspected this could have all been done without her, but she recognized that she might be performing more emotional support than doing very much tangible for the event. Draco seemed to want to be seen, both for himself and his parents.
He had changed, that much was true. And from what Hermione knew from Harry, she believed that Narcissa Malfoy could do this about face to save her family. It was a lot to take in, but she and Harry at least had decided a long time ago that holding grudges was only letting the war take more from them and the world than it already had. If the Malfoys really were putting in the legwork, and they certainly seemed to be, who was she to stand in their way.
"I'll show you out, then."
As they walked out, Hermione decided to ask the question that was burning a hole in her.
"Do you miss him?"
Draco hesitated.
"I had the misfortune of seeing my father at his worst for most of my life. My mother was able to forgive him and remember who he really was, but I wasn't. I feel…regret. And with that there's sadness. But no, I don't miss him. Goodnight, Hermione."
Hermione had apparated home before she realized he had called her by her first name.