A/N: Sorry it took longer for me to get this chapter out! Temporarily got caught on a snag, but I think it's fixed now. Thanks for reading!
Chapter Fourteen - Trouble in Paradise
It was Draco's turn to look murderous.
"The bloody hell you are," he scoffed at his father, taking a step back. Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the balls of her feet, watching from the sidelines as the older Malfoy stared daggers back at the younger - it was hard to say which looked more frightening in their rage. The wind had been tearing at Draco's usually neat white-blond hair, blowing it into his grey eyes, which were so void of warmth, Hermione felt herself pull her robes tighter. She glared contemptuously at Lucius; for a few blissful weeks she had grown accustomed to not hearing the foul word Mudblood, yet here he was and her supposedly dirty blood was beginning to boil. She still had her fingers clamped about her wand, and for good measure - Lucius moved so fast that even Draco hadn't had the time to react. His father had his hands on either side of his shoulders, one simultaneously gripping his wand, slamming Draco against a tree with a dull thud. Hermione whipped out her wand, aimed, and-
The slender piece of vine wood flew from her hand in a steep arch as Lucius jerked his wand towards her violently, securing his hold on Draco by pressing his forearm tightly against his neck. "Stay out of this, girl," he snarled, returning his wand to his son. Draco promptly spat in his face, provoking a sharp, knuckle cracking strike across his mouth. Blood was now dripping from Draco's lower lip - it had been split by the ring on his father's finger. Hermione lunged forward, spotting her wand near the base of the tree, but in the split second before she had reached it, she decided to instead latch onto Lucius' arm that was currently blocking air from entering Draco's lungs. She wrapped both her arms around it and dropped her full weight on it, attempting to wrench it from Draco's throat. "Let go of him!"
"'Ermione - don't!" Draco choked out with what little air he had. But it was too late; Hermione soon felt the full force of a grown man's hand against her cheek and the hardness of the metal ring against bone. She toppled onto the ground, screaming as she felt a feeling quite like fire erupt across her face. For a moment, everything was blurry, and her head was spinning so violently and felt so heavy she was sure it would come off. But then she remembered - her wand was within reach. She crawled towards it, desperately trying to ignore the searing pain from her cheek, and fingers extended, she almost had it, the very tips of her fingers were touching the wood when -
THUD.
The wind was knocked out of her, and she was sprawled out in the grass now, pulling in her limbs and trying to block yet another swift kick to the stomach, but she was choking on air, her organs didn't seem to be working properly; they had deflated from the impact.
"I SAID STAY OUT OF THIS, MUBL-"
Lucius Malfoy was not allowed to finish, as he was soon blasted into the air by a flash of red light, and Hermione could just make out Draco, on his knees and one hand on the ground, with another hand equipped with his wand, pointed at his father, who was now on his back on the ground. Draco made an uneasy attempt to stand, but stumbled back to his knees, and it was getting to be too late, Lucius was getting up again, and from his expression, neither Hermione or Draco would be much longer for the world.
"That's enough, I think," said a quiet but resolute voice that unmistakably belonged to Albus Dumbledore. Hermione watched, trying to sit up as Draco edged towards her to help, as Dumbledore raised his wand lightly and beautiful silvery lights swirled around in the air for a moment before wrapping themselves around Lucius Malfoy's wrists. "You are no longer permitted on school grounds or within reasonable proximity of school boundaries - any violation of this will be taken to the Wizengamot where you will face time in Azkaban - do I make myself clear, Lucius?"
It was the closest Hermione had ever seen Professor Dumbledore get to losing his temper. His eyes were cold, casting a much different glow to his being than his usual friendly twinkle, and Hermione could understand the look of fear that flashed across Lucius' face, though he deserved it. Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were not far behind the Headmaster, and Hagrid had just come from his house after hearing the commotion. Seeing what had happened to Hermione, his dark eyes were burning in rage towards Lucius.
"I'm allowed to visit my son," snarled Lucius, twisting in his bonds. "And I'm allowed to withdraw him from school at any point that I feel his education isn't living up to my standards-"
"Your rights as a parent do not extend to physical force, neither upon your son or a student completely out of your scope of authority. That being said, Draco is also free from this scope, as he turned seventeen this past June," Dumbledore said sharply, prodding the venomous man forward with his wand.
"Yeh could've killed 'em!" roared Hagrid, now rising to his full impressive stature. Draco had managed to catch his breath and was currently helping Hermione sit up gingerly, one hand resting on her back and the other gripping her hand to steady her.
"Are you okay?" he breathed into her ear, just barely brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. Hermione winced.
"You're the one bleeding," she whispered, as the crimson of the blood contrasted strongly against the paleness of his skin. It was steadily dripping, droplet by droplet, down his chin and onto the once-white collar of his shirt.
"Hagrid, please escort our students to the infirmary. I assure you Lucius will be dealt with swiftly and justly," instructed Dumbledore, steering Lucius away. The latter twisted to get one last look at his son, who was still aiding Hermione.
"So this is what you've chosen," Lucius spat. "You pathetic-"
"That's enough," hissed Professor McGonagall, and to everyone's surprise, she waved her wand so that though Lucius opened his mouth, no words came out. He looked positively enraged.
"A great improvement," said Snape icily. "I'll contact the Ministry immediately."
Dumbledore nodded in approval and soon he, McGonagall, and Lucius Malfoy were out of sight. Hagrid had scooped Hermione up in his expansive arms and Draco managed to stand and walk beside them, heading back up to the castle. Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu; how many times would she be going up to the castle all tattered and beaten? A sudden memory popped into her mind of the third year when Hagrid had carried Draco up to the infirmary in a similar fashion after Buckbeak had cut his arm. A small smile flickered at the edges of her mouth despite the seriousness of what had just happened.
"Can' believe he would hurt the two of yeh like that," muttered Hagrid under his breath. "Not e'en from Lucius Malfoy, I can' believe it."
Draco remained silent.
On his way down to the dungeons to the Slytherin common room, something happened to Draco Malfoy that he never imagined would be possible. Two looming shadows emerged from the wall and standing before him were the towering, glowering figures of Crabbe and Goyle. He couldn't quite tell if it truly were leers on their stupid faces, as it was quite often they looked as though they might have an upset stomach.
"Merlin, you two really ought to learn not to lurk about in the dark," said Draco nastily. "Might give the first years nightmares about dungeon trolls."
"Har har," said Crabbe in what Draco suspected was meant to be in a sarcastic tone, though it resembled his ordinary laughter strikingly. "We heard what you did, Draco."
"Wow - congratulations on managing to remember it for more than two minutes," Draco mocked, attempting to push past the oversized boys to reach the common room. However, the gap between them closed rather quickly, and Draco found them towering over him close enough to see the crumbs on Goyle's top lip.
"We heard you've got nice and friendly with the Mudblood," Goyle said slowly, whether for dramatic effect or sheer stupidity, it was unclear.
"Yes, because I had the decency to save the girl's life, I'm sure I'll be inviting her around for the holidays to meet mum," snarled Draco, clenching his fingers about his wand.
"Blaise told us-"
"Zabini then? That's who you've chosen to follow about while I've been away?" The pale boy snorted. "I suppose it was a bit optimistic of me to expect either of you to formulate thoughts for yourselves."
Crabbe and Goyle both blinked heavily before registering what he was implying. With impressive force, Crabbe's meaty hands shoved roughly against Draco's chest, sending him stumbling backwards. He only just caught himself from hitting the damp stone wall behind him with his left hand, and in his right he brandished his wand.
"Petrificus totalus!" Crabbe and Goyle's monstrous bodies fell to the floor in a reverberating thud. "You two must have dragon dung for brains," Draco snarled at them as their wide eyes followed him. He has just stepped over them to head to the common room, before he remembered to do one last thing.
After a swift kick was delivered to each of them, Draco felt content enough to face whoever would be waiting to attack him next.
Hermione was in the library, clutching a bag of ice to her cheek while Ron was leaning back in his chair precariously and Harry was on the tail-end of a long rant about Lucius Malfoy.
"Right," said Ron tiredly. "It's been decided - Lucius Malfoy is a git, we've always known that."
"Yes, but he's never attacked Hermione before!" said Harry heatedly.
"I'm fine, Harry," assured Hermione. "After all, he didn't show up just with the intentions of smacking a school girl in the face. It's Draco we need to worry about."
At this, like all mentions of the Slytherin, Harry and Ron exchanged a significant look. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"When are you two going to tell me what's going on? You're rubbish at hiding it."
"I reckon Malfoy's gone mad," said Ron resolutely, nodding his head. "I mean, for everything he's done to you, he's being awfully chummy, don't you think?"
"Good to know that for someone to warm up to me they must be mad," said Hermione stiffly. "Look - he's been through a lot. Teasing me probably seems like a waste of time in retrospect."
Harry released a loaded sigh. "I'd like to see how he treats you after being reunited with those Slytherin ghouls. Then we'll see just how mad he is."
Ron nodded his head in frantic agreement, both boys oblivious to the look of outrage on Hermione's face. "Help us with our essays, Hermione?" he asked innocently, leaning forward so that all four legs of the chair hit the ground with a bang.
Hermione shot him one last murderous look before pulling out her parchment and spare quills.
"I ought to warn you, there's a fair risk of you being murdered in your sleep tonight," said a drawling voice that had just entered the boys' dormitory. Draco didn't bother turning to look at Theodore Nott.
"Right, because I didn't sacrifice Granger or an entire school to a maniac," spat Malfoy, falling backwards onto the bed which he sat.
"Don't be daft, no one gives a bloody damn about the Mudblood or those French kids," said Nott, sinking onto the bed across from him. "All that's important is that we all keep on your father's good side - which you happen to be opposite from. Not to mention I had to climb over Crabbe and Goyle to get here. Cursing your own housemates? Nobody will take to that very well."
"You're absolutely right, next time I'll just let my father pummel the shit out of me, and then let Crabbe and Goyle finish me off," snapped Draco irritably.
"Who knows, you might be better off for it," said Nott, shrugging. "If Daddy Malfoy doesn't pass on the Malfoy inheritance to you, your whole future is fucked."
"Shut the hell up," hissed Draco.
"Just listen - I don't give a damn what you do with the Mudblood or what problems you're having with dear old Lucius. I'm just telling you now, I won't be helping except for one piece of advice: try to find a new place to lay your head at night, because those two brutes you petrified outside aren't going to having a slumber party with you after what you did. I wouldn't put it past Zabini to poison your pumpkin juice and Parkinson's already spreading the unfortunate news about the size of your-"
"As if she's ever been near it!" exclaimed Draco, sitting upright in outrage. Nott looked thoroughly amused.
"Right - don't worry about being killed in your sleep or poisoned at dinner. Just you worry about the dignity of your manhood." Nott was rolling his eyes heavily. "I'd talk to Dumbledore if I were you. Maybe he'll let you go back to Beauxbatons early."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why are you so eager to keep me out of harm's way?"
"What these other idiots don't realize," said Nott haughtily, leaning back onto his elbows, "is that the key to success is to remain on everyone's good side. Lucius Malfoy won't think I'm defying him by being chummy with you, and you can't be hostile towards me when I'm the only one in these dungeons who isn't trying to make your life hell."
Draco eyed the boy warily. "It's a shame neither of us has a sentimental bone in us - we might be good friends otherwise."
Nott snorted. "Oh, I think one of us definitely has some sentimentality."
The Great Hall seemed to be roaring that night as Hermione took a seat squashed in between Ron and Harry. The former was piling his plate high with mashed potatoes, and the latter was waving to Ginny as she entered the hall. Since Hermione had returned to Hogwarts, she found herself swarmed by students asking how Beauxbatons was. She found the attention overwhelming, although she could tell Ron was rather enjoying answering for her.
"My brother Charlie's there, of course," boasted Ron to Seamus and Dean. "Training a Portuguese Long-Snout to defend the castle. Impressive, really, their security measures. Hermione thought she was going to be eaten when she first saw it, didn't you Hermione?"
Hermione, however, was not listening. She found both her mind and her eyes raking over the Slytherin table in search for the familiar white-blond hair of Draco Malfoy. Despite the deafening chatter reverberating from the stone walls of the hall, the Slytherin table seemed oddly quiet at one end, where the sixth and seventh years sat. Groups seemed to be clustered together, hunched low and talking quietly among themselves, a strange sight from their usual pompous and loud conversations. One weedy boy sat at the very end of the table, and Hermione froze before quickly turning back around in her seat. Theodore Nott's eyes had locked with hers, and seemed smugly satisfied to see her searching for Draco. She didn't have a clue as to why this exchange filled her with such discomfort, but surely it was nothing more than Nott's general unpleasantness towards her as a Pureblood elitist. And where on earth was Draco Malfoy? Had the Slytherins turned on him after hearing what happened with his father? She couldn't imagine anyone taking Lucius Malfoy's side when he had attacked two Hogwarts students.
Hermione was quickly startled from her thoughts when she realized Harry had scooted away from her to squeeze in Luna Lovegood, who had joined the table. A strange smell seemed to waft from the girl and Hermione quickly traced it back to a ring of purple Shrivelfigs about her neck.
"Don't worry," she whispered to Hermione. "It's just an experiment."
"Hello Luna," greeted Hermione tiredly, not entirely sure if she was ready to commit to a conversation with the spacey girl.
"I remembered the other day my father telling me about a rather large amount of Demiguise living in the south of France," said Luna dreamily, eyes glazing over as she considered these fantastic beasts. Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Oh?" She wasn't doubting the reality of the Demiguise, they had been thoroughly covered in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, she just didn't recall any mention of the creatures residing in southern France, rather that they preferred Asia.
"We've never gotten the chance to see one, you know," Luna continued. "My father would be thrilled if I could record one for him - maybe even get some fur if I'm lucky."
"Well," said Hermione slowly, eager to not offend the girl. Her voice was rather disconcerting when it lost its dreamlike quality - Hermione had learned that in the fifth year. "They're supposedly nearly impossible to find - since they can turn invisible."
"Father's got an interesting theory that spectrespecs might be able to spot them," explained Luna, and for good measure she had brought out a pair of the multicolored glasses and set them eagerly on the table. "I'm anxious to test his theory - after all, if they can spot Wrackspurts, why not Demiguise?"
It was all Hermione could do to stop herself from snorting; she soon found herself drinking heavily from her goblet of pumpkin juice to preoccupy her skepticism. When she lowered the cup, Luna's perturbing eyes were pouring into hers expectantly.
"I suppose you'd like to visit Beauxbatons with me, then?" Hermione questioned uneasily. A smile spread across the Ravenclaw's face.
"If it's alright - maybe this weekend?"
"Uh, sure, Luna," said Hermione quickly, and returned to her food, all too aware of the wide smile on Luna's beaming face. She was a nice enough girl, that much Hermione couldn't deny, but if there ever was a polar opposite to Hermione Granger, it was Luna Lovegood. Hermione's mind strictly dwelled in proven, hard-evidence, whereas to Luna Lovegood, everything and anything was a possibility. It was like she couldn't see reason and common sense. Ron, who had caught the tailend of the conversation, shook his head in disbelief that the two girls would be willingly spending time together according to their own devices.
After dinner was over, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, full of food, meandered back up to the seventh floor towards the Gryffindor common room. It was all very distracting, being back at Hogwarts for what was going to be full days at a time, but even still Hermione found herself scanning the Great Hall as she left for Draco Malfoy, and peering down side corridors when she didn't spot him there. Her mind was racing with questions as to where he could be - and then she found herself wondering why she was so concerned.
He hasn't had it easy, she told herself forcefully. His father turned out to be a maniac and I'm sure his housemates aren't taking well to him. If she only knew whether he was okay or not, she would feel much better. No matter how she felt about it, Draco Malfoy had proven to her when he had saved her life that he could be a good person.
When the three had reached the common room, Hermione took up Harry's Transfiguration textbook (as all her books were currently at Beauxbatons or somewhere in the Alps) and curled into the armchair next to the fire. She fell asleep with the book under her fingertips and Draco on her mind.
Stooping down to exit the fireplace, Draco Malfoy felt a rush of relief that Madame Maxime was not waiting to meet him in the Ambassadors' common room. He had grudgingly taken Nott's advice on staying out of the way of Slytherins and seeing about going back to Beauxbatons, and Professor Dumbledore had approved this request without reservance. The pale boy was exhausted - far too much had happened over the course of a week than anyone could handle properly. He didn't waste anytime throwing off his robe and tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt as he sunk onto the sofa, sighing as his feet obtained relief from pressure. His eyelids were heavy as he looked at the warm fireplace, and Draco was almost asleep when something on the coffee table caught his eye - a book, with a note on top.
Impatiently, Draco brushed the note off before reading it, curious as to what the book was. Perhaps Granger had left it here before they went to Switzerland? The title scrawled across the leather cover in curly red letters, reading Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles by Wilhelm Wigworthy. Before he realized what he was doing, Draco snorted and tossed the book back carelessly onto the table, landing heavily on top of the little piece of parchment that had been ignored by the boy. He was just about to lean back into the sofa again when he saw something rather curious - the corner of the note peeked its way out from under the book and wiggled anxiously. Draco watched in apprehension. The paper seemed to be struggling excessively to pull itself out from the heavy text, so he cautiously hooked a finger under the edge of Wigworthy's book and lifted it. The note came flying out at such momentum that Draco shot back, letting the book fall to the table again with a slam. Slowly, like a feather, the slip of paper floated into his lap and unfolded itself. He looked on curiously.
This will come in handy very shortly. Read up.
It was Madame Maxime's handwriting. Draco was horrified.
"I am not ready for Muggles," said Draco angrily. Wigworthy's book floated into his lap and flipped itself to the first chapter in response.