Reformed

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Goldensnitch18

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Rated M for Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Language, and Violence.

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Summary: Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban and sent to Hogwarts for his eighth year where he has a year to show that he can be reformed. Hermione Granger, and her friends, are struggling to come to terms with what has happened to them and move on, but she has agreed to be Malfoy's Muggle Studies tutor anyway.

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Disclaimer: I am not profiting from this story.

Anything you recognize belongs to the great and mighty JKR.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Friday, December 25th, 1998

"You're going to be okay," Harry whispered, his mouth dropping a kiss just behind her ear.

"I don't know. I don't want to go," Ginny told him.

"You have to go, Gin. It's your whole family, waiting for you. They love you." His arms wrapped around her from behind as they both gazed into the mirror before them.

"I know," she mumbled, wishing he was wrong, but she would feel awful if she skipped Christmas entirely. She just didn't want to see her mother, to have to face her after so many months of silence, to have to feel all the things her mother made her feel, the guilt that haunted her.

"You going to tell them?" he asked.

She shrugged. It didn't seem worth telling anyone yet. She had told Harry and Hermione because they were there at the table when she opened the letter. Ron had been at the shop, and he still didn't know.

She could still hardly believe it was real. Gwenog Jones wanted her to come for a trial during her break for a spot she was going to have opening up. She had been vague in her letter, but Ginny hadn't cared. She would play any position for that team without a second thought. It was some sort of insane dream, and she had been waiting to wake up from it ever since. "I think I'll wait," she said finally, making up her mind, not wanting to deal with whatever would come of this news on top of seeing her mother.

Harry nodded, pulling back. "Time to go," he said, and she couldn't find any reason to delay the inevitable any longer.

When they arrived, climbing from the Floo, the house was already full of loud family members and the wails of a screaming baby girl in Bill's arms. He was bouncing her as he spoke to Ron and George.

She could hear her mother in the kitchen, and Harry gripped her hand, trying his best to offer support. Ginny pulled him towards the baby, hoping to avoid the inevitable awkward moment when her mother laid eyes on her.

Bill didn't miss a beat as they joined the conversation. He gave Ginny a half hug, and somehow, at the end of it, she was holding her niece. The girl whimpered as Ginny let go of Harry's hand to pat her gently as she bounced. She felt a bit terrified of the girl to be honest. They were a big family, sure, but she was the baby. There had been no younger sibling for her to help with.

She looked over at Harry, sure he would be able to see the terror in her eyes, and he was just smiling at her in a way she wasn't entirely comfortable with.

"She does that fussing all the time," Bill told them as he laughed at Harry. "Don't be getting any ideas."

"I'm not …" Harry insisted.

"Engaged within the year," George cut in, "calling it now."

"We're not," Harry told them, stammering over his words.

"You are," Ron said, and for once, he didn't seem to be affected by the idea. Ginny looked at Harry again, trying to figure out what he was thinking. She loved him, so much, but … could she commit to forever? To what her parents had?

Her mind quickly pulled the memory of her birthday to the surface and a dozen similar days when she had felt so disconnected from him.

Not yet. She couldn't promise forever when he was like this, as much as it hurt to admit, even just to herself, he needed to heal, to find his center again before they could be anything more than what they were now. She needed things from him that he seemed incapable of at the moment. She could be patient, but she couldn't commit to always without something changing.

"Leave him alone," she snapped at her brothers.

"Don't torture Harry." Her father's hand fell onto her shoulder as he spoke behind her. "It's Christmas. Everyone's here, George, you ready?"

"Is Hermione coming," George asked, looking to Harry and Ginny.

"She's still with her parents," Harry told him. "She didn't say if she would be over."

"Well," George looked at Arthur and shrugged, "guess we'll fill her in later."

"What's going on?" Ron asked.

"Nothing Ronnikins. Gather the family, Dad."

"On it," Arthur slipped back into the kitchen and slowly, Weasley's filtered in from every direction, creating Harry and Ginny before moving to take a seat or lean against a wall.

Her mother was one of the last, rubbing her hands on her apron as she came right up to Ginny. "Happy Christmas," she said and hugged her. Ginny hugged her back, a bit taken aback by this nonchalant greeting, as if nothing had transpired between them at all. "Harry, Happy Christmas," she said again, pulling him in. Harry looked at her over her mother's shoulder as he hugged her back. Ginny just shrugged, willing to let the tension dissipate for the day if her mother was.

"Come on, now," George shouted. "I haven't got all day." They separated. Harry took Ginny's hand again, and they moved towards one of the walls, giving George the stage for whatever he was up to.

"Right," he began, clasping his hands together. "I've been talking to Dad about some things with the shop, and I've had to accept it's just too much work for me to handle." Ginny's heart dropped, thumping painfully in her chest. He couldn't close the store, not Fred's store. Her eyes burned as tears threatened to spill.

"We can all pitch in," Bill offered. "I know Ron's been up there. I can do a day a week or so." Fleur didn't refute this, but she did look up at her husband in concern. He was already so busy. There was no way he had time for that.

"I'll help, too," Percy offered, and everyone stared, a bit taken aback. "We can't lose it. We can't."

"I'm not closing," George told them. "I'm taking on a partner, giving him Fred's share of the business."

Ginny glanced at Ron, and he looked devastated. He wasn't the only one.

"What?" Ron asked, clearly moving quickly from devastation to anger. "Who?"

"Well, I thought," George said, and he fished in his pocket, reaching for something. He pulled out a small key, and held it out towards Ron. "I thought you might want to come on full time. You'd have to give up trying to be a hero, so It's up to you. Take some time if you need it."

Ron just stared, dumbfounded, at George as everyone else stared at him. "I already have a key," Ron said finally, which Ginny supposed was him accepting.

"Yeah, well," George moved, closing the space between them. "This was his, so, well, I, just…"

Ron moved quickly. It almost looked like he was going to tackle George, but then his arms were around his brother's body, holding him as if George might also disappear from their lives forever if he didn't hold him tight enough, and Ginny was sobbing as she watched the two grown men try not to fall to pieces in front of everyone.

"You knew about this?" her mother asked, glaring at her father as she wiped at her face. He only shrugged, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

XXX

Friday, December 25th, 1998

Hermione's parents were really lovely people. She loved them, obviously. She wouldn't have erased their memories and sent then away to Australia if she didn't, but it was proving just as difficult to be around them as she had expected. Her mother was nice, smiling, hugging her too long, and attempting, rather poorly, to act as if nothing had happened. Her father was aloof, standoffish, and utterly, obviously not at all over it. She tried to act like herself, like the daughter they would remember, but she couldn't even remember who that girl was anymore, or how she would react to Christmas with her parents. They were three people who ought to belong together, fit into a perfect puzzle, but the pieces had been mangled, and it no longer seemed that they made a whole picture.

She was miserable the entire morning with them, but only the morning because she decided she couldn't bear to stay the entire day. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had begged her to come to the Burrow, and so she used it as an excuse to kiss them goodbye after presents and lunch. Her parents seemed just as relieved as her to end the entire affair. Even though it was horrible, she was still, in one way, glad that she had come. It was good to see them, to witness with her own eyes that they were indeed back in their own lives, settling in more now that the initial shock of their realization of what had happened was waning. They chatted about work and their friends and in small moments, she saw the people they used to be, the people she desperately hoped they would be again, but she didn't belong here.

She belonged in the other world, the one with spells and magic and her friends who had become her family when her family was gone and then fallen apart after they defeated Voldemort. This visit had solidified that fact for her. There was never going to be a place for her in her parent's world again, and as she left them, she accepted that. She hoped that time would heal the invisible rift between them all, but she had no false notions of ever trying to make them understand why she needed to live the way she did.

She arrived at the Burrow just after lunch had finished up. Ron, Harry, and Ginny were sitting with George, and she moved over to then, falling to the floor beside Ginny.

When Harry told her that Ron was quitting Auror training, she felt a sudden, unexpected surge of relief. "Good," she replied.

Ron showed her the key then, telling her reverently that it used to belong to Fred, and she took it from him, looking over the seemingly ordinary object.

"I'm so happy for you," she told him, "both of you," she added to George. "I think he would be really proud of you both for what you're doing with the shop."

"I miss him," Ron said, his voice cracking. "I just .. I really fucking miss him." He wiped at his face as he accepted the key back, and Hermione patted his knee.

After that, George found a bottle of Firewhiskey, and they drank until they could bare to tell stories about Fred until their sides ached from laughter.

XXX

Wednesday, December 31st, 1998

What Harry had called one of the Malfoy's smaller homes turned out to be a house larger than the one Hermione grew up in. She couldn't honestly say that she was surprised by this, but it did amuse her. If nothing else came from this trip, at least she could tell Draco where his mother was staying. She hoped that would give him some comfort. She wrung her hands as Harry led her up the stone path. She had been okay until they were actually here, looking the house in the eyes. Narcissa Malfoy had never given her a reason to expect kindness.

When they reached the door, Harry gave her a hesitant look and then knocked for them. The door swing open nearly immediately to reveal the Malfoy Matron. She looked in slightly better condition than she had at the trial, but not much. Her white blonde hair was piled atop her head. Lines of worry, unconcealed by her makeup ran across her forehead. Her eyes seemed dull, and her body was bare of any ornamentation aside from her wedding ring. The dress she wore was simple, but nicer than what Hermione had last seen her in.

"Mr. Potter," she said, and her eyes moved quickly, taking account of Hermione with decisive flicks up and down her body. "Ms. Granger. I've made tea."

They followed her into the house, and Hermione glanced around, trying not to look like she was spying as she did just that. She didn't spot a single item out of place or anything that she would guess had not been custom made for the space. Narcissa must be doing all right to actually at least.

"I was glad to get your letter," Narcissa told Harry as they walked through another set of doors to a covered patio. A small table for four was already set for the three of them.

"It was Hermione, really," Harry told her. "She wanted to see you."

"Yes, that is what you said." Narcissa's small smile didn't seem to reach her eyes, and Hermione's racing heart seemed to clench in apprehension as she took her seat beside Harry. Narcissa sat across from her and waved her hand to encourage the tea set to begin to serve them.

"I'm not sure what you know about Draco's situation at school, Mrs. Malfoy," she began.

As she paused for breath, the other woman spoke again. "The Headmistress wrote to inform me you had agreed to tutor my son."

"Yes, I did." Hermione reached for her newly filled cup, needing something to occupy her hands as she sat there, but unable to actually compel herself to lift it to her lips to drink.

"And?" Narcissa asked. It was clear that she did not like Hermione but was willing to put up with her, host her at tea to learn something, anything about her son.

"He is doing very well. We are moving through the material swiftly, and he is very dedicated to passing his exams," Hermione told her.

"How much time do you spend with my son?"

Hermione was a little surprised by the question. It seemed so strange and out of nowhere. "I … uhm …" Hermione struggled with the answer for a moment. She spent every possible moment with him, spent her nights in his arms, but she couldn't really tell his mother, or Harry, that. "We have daily tutoring for at least an hour. Some days we have practical lessons and they take longer, or we will study other course work." She decided this was a safe answer, and not a lie exactly.

Narcissa stared, her eyes burning Hermione with their intense gaze, considering and measuring her for something. They flickered to Harry for a moment and then back to her. "How is he?" she asked, and the question seemed to cost her something.

"Better," Hermione answered quickly. "He was … we all were … but he's getting better."

"Good. Thank you." Even this seemed painful for the other woman.

"He misses you, I think." She knew this, but admitting that he had relayed this information would reveal a level of intimacy she wasn't sure she should share. "And, well, I just really wanted to be able to tell him that you know he's doing okay. It doesn't seem right that he can't even write."

Narcissa stared again, and Hermione wished desperately that she could see into the other woman's mind. "Excuse me," Narcissa told them as she rose quickly from her chair. "I will be right back."

They watched her disappear inside the door, and Harry caught Hermione's eye even though she tried to avoid his gaze. She was sure her every feeling and thought for Draco was displayed there on her face. Being this close to Narcissa was more difficult than she had been able to predict. It was clear that though her experiences and time may have humbled her to permitting Hermione into her home, it was not an easy task.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, forcing a smile as her nails dug into her palms.

"We can go," he said, his voice low.

"No. I'm fine." But, she wasn't. She had realized that this, tea across the table from this cold woman, or worse, could quite possibly be her future, depending how well Narcissa took the news about her and Draco. She felt her heart race in her chest as her mind swirled around how in the world they could possibly convince this woman that they loved each other and were going to be together. Draco had said that she would com around because she loved him, but what exactly did that mean? Would Narcissa still see her as less than for the rest of her life?

Was she going to be with him for the rest of her life?

She shut her eyes, remembering the way she felt when she was with him, when he kissed her, or smiled at her, or admitted that something Muggles did was interesting or noble. She didn't want to imagine her life without him, so maybe that meant the rest of her life? She didn't want to think that it would depend on the reactions of the people they loved, but could it play a role? Could she truly sit through a meal like this one over and over again?

Hermione heard Narcissa walk back out into the garden and opened her eyes, attempting to calm her nerves despite the mini panic attack occurring inside of her mind.

As she walked around the table, Narcissa placed a book in front of Hermione. For a moment, Hermione was confused, struck by the title before her. She looked at Harry and found his mouth hanging open as he stared.

"I know it seems trivial, Draco will probably think so as well, but I used to read him those stories every night when he was a boy."

Hermione lifted The Tales of Beedle the Bard into her hands. It was an old edition, that was clear, the book worn from use by generation after generation.

"Would you take this to him?" Narcissa asked, the question again seeming to be far more difficult than it should have been.

Hermione flipped through the pages, her mind flipping quickly over the words she knew so well. It wasn't until she heard Harry ask, "Hermione?" that she realized she had been sitting for some time, silently reading, remembering the past, and wondering what the future would hold.

"Yes," she said suddenly, looking up. "I'll take it to him."

XXX

When they returned back to Grimmauld from tea, Hermione went straight up to her room. She felt exhausted, as if she had been running a marathon instead of sitting at a table with biscuits. Harry seemed to understand that she needed to be alone and let her leave him behind. Ron was at the shop working, and Ginny had gone to her trial. Hermione was struggling more than she cared to admit, even to herself in the aftermath of the visit.

She curled up on her bed, not even bothering to pull down the blanket, and opened the book Narcissa had given her, reading over the words with care, even though she knew each one by heart. She tried to remember how she had felt about Draco then, but honestly he had barely been on her radar. Until the night in the manor, she hadn't thought or felt much at all, and then he had watched her tortured. She had been doing really well with her nightmares lately, but even the thought of that day made her feel off, like a Dementor had swooped into the room. He couldn't have helped her, she knew that, but it still hurt that he had been there, that his family had been there, and now she was in love with him, and where would that leave him with his family? There was no way to know for sure how Narcissa would react, but Hermione was not feeling especially positive about sharing the news with her in the wake of their visit.

She was reading Babbitty Rabbitty when Harry knocked. She knew it must be him, that her alone time had ended, and he was ready to talk about their day, but she was still feeling so defeated about the whole endeavour. She ignored his knocking, refusing to invite him. He apparently wasn't waiting for an invitation. The door swing open after his second set of knocks, and she looked up from the book at him. His face was as open as the story before her, concern and fear clear across his expression.

"Hermione," he said, the hesitation in his voice mirrored by his uneasy stance, "I think we should talk."

She sat up, closing the book and setting it beside her on the bed. "What about?" she asked, as if she had no idea why he may be acting so oddly.

"What … I mean … it seems like …" - he ran a shaky hand through his jet black mop as he shook his head - "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

She stared, unsure if she should tell him the truth or not. "I don't know," she said, dumbly.

"I don't know what that means."

"I told you why I wanted to go."

"Yeah, you did, but, it still seems really odd. That was not an enjoyable meeting for any of us, and, well, with what you've been through with that family, it would be understandable if you never spoke to any of them, and you're asking me to arrange tea and taking gifts and … I know it's mad to even say it, but when you talk about him, it seems like, like …" he trailed off, apparently losing the ability to carry through on sharing whatever assumptions he had made.

"I just wanted to do something for a friend, she insisted.

"How much time do you spend with him?" he asked, echoing Narcissa's question. She opened her mouth to reply, and he cut in, "don't lie to me. I'm done with being lied to by people I love."

She let her mouth fall shut and scooted to the edge of the bed, buying time as she tried to find the right words. He was standing about two feet from her door, and she wondered if he would slam it and storm away. She closed her eyes, remembering the tips of Draco's fingers drawing patterns along her side as she tried to fall asleep at night. "Are you sure you want to know?" she whispered, not bothering to open her eyes, not able to bear the expression that would surely cross his face.

"Tell me," he implored, his voice shaking.

"Every night. Every hour we can pretend to be studying. Every moment I can possibly make an excuse to be with him." She did open her eyes then, needing to see her best friend, her brother, her family as he reacted to her far too honest admission.

He had moved to the floor, sitting with his head between his knees. His world clearly rocked. She stared, watching closely as his fingers dug into the black tendrils of hair, rubbing at his scalp as if it would help clear away her words or make sense of them. "He hated you," Harry said finally, speaking to his feet.

"Not now. Not even at the beginning. I think he was too broken and too busy hating the people that ruined his family to hate me," she said softly, realizing the truth of her own words as she spoke.

"And, what about before all of that, everything he did?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, Harry. I know it's insane, but I've just forgiven him. It's like … I can see myself in him." It was so surreal to finally be talking to someone about Draco, to let someone into their circle.

"You in him?" Harry looked up quickly. "You're one of the best people I know."

"I was so lost, Harry." Her voice broke, shaking as she tried to explain.

"So he's your pet project?" Harry asked, almost as if he hoped it was true and that simple.

"No, it isn't like that. We just … understand each other. We can talk about the war, and we just understand."

"You talk to him about the war?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Of course, I do," she said quietly, knowing this particular spot was sore for her best friend. "How else are we supposed to heal if we can't talk about it?"

"I don't talk about it," Harry said, his voice hollow.

"And, it's working out so well for you!" she snapped, even though she knew she shouldn't.

Harry just shook his head, ignoring her. "I just don't get it."

"You don't have to get it," she told him. "But, you do have to give it a chance." He owed her that, after everything they had endured together.

"He could be going back to Azkaban, Hermione. There is no guarantee that the Wizengamot isn't going to put him right back in there," Harry said, giving voice to the words she had refused to acknowledge in her mind for so long.

"We won't let that happen," she insisted.

"You think they will listen to you, or me, when they find out you're with him? They're going to think he's cursed you or something."

"McGonagall checks his wand …"

"I know. I know that, but these people want anyone to blame but themselves and right now we have far too much power for their liking."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, suddenly confused.

"You, and me, and Ron. We're all heroes to this world. They look up to us like we're going to bring in a new age or something. You don't see it because you're off at Hogwarts, but it's clear to me. I experience it every day. I could probably unseat Kingsley if I wanted to, and I'm an eighteen year old Muggleborn for all intents and purposes who never sat his N.E.W.T.s," Harry told her, and it was clearly something that had been exasperating him.

"You aren't a Muggleb-"

"I know less about this world than anyone with my blood ought to. I'm learning new things every day. The other day I looked up my Dad's parents. I never even knew my grandparents names, and people would let me take over the damn Ministry if I asked, Hermione."

"That's a bit terrifying," she admitted as she began to consider the ramifications of this.

"A bit, yeah. They never seem to learn. But, that isn't the point. The point is these old tossers who want things to stay the same are not on our side. There is a lot of pushback about me speaking up for the Malfoy's already. Apparently, I disrupted the way things have always been done."

"They voted!" Hermione insisted, remembering that day, watching the vote.

"And, it nearly didn't pass. You were there. You didn't know what to do yourself," he reminded her.

"I had decided to support him," she said, as if she needed to defend herself.

"That day at the last possible minute, and I'm pretty sure it was more for me than him," Harry said.

"Well, of course it was," she admitted, reluctantly.

"We just need to be careful, Hermione. You need to be careful. There are a lot of people who don't want you to change the world, and I know you, I know you're going to do it anyway."

"I'm not letting them put him back there," she said, fire burning behind her words.

"And, I think you need to realize you might not be given a choice. You might be drug down with him if you try," Harry said.

"This is insane!" She was growing more and more frustrated with Harry, with the Wizarding World, with the ways they had of dealing with things.

"This is the world we both chose to live in," Harry reminded her.

"Maybe I don't want to live in it anymore!" she snapped.

"What is going on?" Ginny asked, and they both turned to look at her standing in the door.

"Nothing," Harry told her. "How was your trial?"

"It was clearly something," Ginny insisted.

"I'm just fed up with the archaic laws we live under," Hermione said. "How was it?"

Ginny looked between them both, frowning. "It was really good, actually. I've … well, I've accepted a position starting immediately."

"Immediately?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Harry said at the same moment.

"Yeah, I guess the spot was for now, one of the players is pregnant, and I told them I would take it."

"What about Hogwarts?" Harry asked, stepping forward, closer to his girlfriend.

"I'll drop out. This is what I want, my dream, why shouldn't I pursue it?" Ginny asked.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Assuming you don't mind having me around all the time." She smiled uneasily, clearly nervous, but Harry just moved forward to kiss her.

"Of course not. Congratulations, Gin. This is incredible."

"I'm going to miss you so much," Hermione told her.

"I'll miss you, too." Ginny pulled away from Harry to move over and hug Hermione. "We'll still come visit as often as we can. And, the year is half over."

"I know. I'm so happy for you, Ginny." It did not go unnoticed by Hermione that two years ago she would have thought Ginny was mad and this was a horrible mistake, but now, with everything they had been through, it was hard to find fault in her decision not to sit her N.E.W.T.s. The Holyhead Harpies were a notable team, even Hermione knew that. Ginny would be insane to pass on this opportunity. She would love it, be really, honestly happy with her job and hopefully be around Harry more, which would be good for both of them if she could just convince the man to open up a bit.

"We should celebrate," Harry decided. "I'll ask Kreacher if he would mind making something special, or we can go out."

"I … well" - Hermione looked at Harry, willing him to understand - "I think I'm going to head back early."

"What?" Ginny asked, clearly shocked.

"I need to get some of my own work done before the term begins again and I'm back to tutoring."

"Just tell McGonagall to find someone else if it's too much," Ginny suggested.

"That isn't how Hermione operates," Harry said, his hand snaking around Ginny's lower back to rest at the opposite side of her waist.

Hermione allowed herself to breathe again at his words. He seemed to be accepting even if he couldn't understand yet, even if he insisted on planning for the worst. "I'll write you," she told him.

"Yeah," he agreed.

XXX

A/N: Promise I'm still here and writing, just slowly. Thank you for your patience and kind words.

xoxo

Meg