February 14, 2004
For more than two weeks, ever since Dean Thomas had Apparated away in a whirl of self-righteousness worthy of Harry Potter himself, Draco had been playing a waiting game, poised for the Order of the Phoenix to confront him about Granger, or even for some official contact from the Ministry about his treatment of his Muggleborn witch. Getting her up the duff didn't violate any laws or the terms of his Vow, but he suspected it would meet with universal disapproval from the Muggleborn Repatriation Commission; the Auror Department, which still kept discreet tabs on him and all former Death Eaters; and Granger's friends in the wizarding world.
However, Draco had not been waiting passively. Instead, he had been laying the groundwork for a plausible story that would keep Hermione on his side - and, more importantly, at his side - should any meddling members of the Order of the Phoenix show up on their doorstep. For once, the Weasel King and his stupid were-bitch had made themselves useful. If necessary, Draco could exploit their attack in Hyde Park to support his version of the truth: that Granger had been sent to the Muggle world to keep her safe from a group that wanted to harm her and he had been assigned to protect her. She would hopefully conclude, based on the limited information available to her, that the Order was the group in question and its members were not to be trusted.
He wasn't about to relinquish her yet, especially not when she was pregnant with his child. Hermione was seventeen weeks along, as far along as Astoria had been when they lost Scorpius, and Draco had spent the past week on tenterhooks, watching for any signs of a miscarriage. But Granger, to his eternal gratitude, remained healthy, if emotional and with a strong craving for pumpkin juice. He had come home from work earlier in the week to find her in kitchen, tearfully trying to mix canned pumpkin and water into a juice and instead producing something that looked like cat sick. He had solved the problem rather handily by sending her to the lounge to relax with a book while Mipsy delivered a pitcher of proper pumpkin juice from the Manor. His mother had continued the deliveries on a daily basis, pleased that Hermione was drinking something so rich in vitamins.
A tawny owl wearing a Ministry of Magic collar tapped on the window of his office at Malfoy Enterprises, interrupting Draco's fond musings about his Muggleborn girlfriend. When he slit open the envelope, he realized his waiting was at an end. The letter, which had been handwritten rather than entrusted to an assistant, was from the Minister of Magic himself.
Dear Draco,
I enclose an advance copy of the Wizengamot's decree clarifying the circumstances under which "repatriated" Muggleborns may be advised of the existence of the wizarding world and magic itself. I request that you do not show this to anyone until it is publicly released later this afternoon, excepting Mssrs. Flint and Nott, since the three of you share a particular, personal interest in this decision.
With warm regards,
Kingsley
Draco snorted. Since when had he and the Minister been on a first-name basis? Apparently ever since the wily bastard acquired leverage over him. Shacklebolt was far too subtle to attempt to blackmail him in writing, but Draco had no doubt some extortionate demand would come.
In the interim, he would Owl Theo and Marcus to meet him for lunch. Shacklebolt was correct, damn him, that the three of them shared a very personal interest in whatever it was that the Wizengamot had done. He scrawled two notes inviting each of his friends to the Black Cat at noon and gave them to the Ministry owl for delivery - his tax dollars at work - before turning his attention to translating the Wizengamot's legalese into plain English.
(x) (x) (x)
"So the upshot is that Muggleborns married to a wizard or witch or Muggleborns with a child attending Hogwarts may be told about magic and may visit or even live in the wizarding world, but cannot ever be informed they are themselves a witch or wizard," Theo summarized the Wizengamot decree for his friends in his best solicitor's voice.
Marcus furrowed his brow as he chased the remnants of his bangers and mash around his plate. He frowned at Theo's sympathetic look. While he might not be the smartest kneazle in the litter, but the upshot of what Theo said was clear and not unexpected. Marcus knew that Umbridge never would allow Muggleborns back into magical society with their memories restored and the full ability to use their powers. Still, he had hoped the progressive members of the Wizengamot would have pushed a bit more for the Muggleborns' rights. He wasn't about to ask Katie to live like a Squib in a world where she couldn't have her memories or her magic back.
"Bugger that," he said in disgust, chasing his disappointment with a swallow of ale. "So Katie's got to wait another seven and a half years, until Isabelle's gotten her Hogwarts letter, before I can tell her about magic and take her flying?"
Theo shook his head. "Even once Isabelle's at school, you still won't be permitted to tell Katie she's a witch."
"That's our Theo - a bookworm rather than a Quidditch player," Marcus guffawed. "The brooms are enchanted. Even a Muggle could learn to fly one. But that's a long time for us to have to wait."
"That's all you care about, being able to take Bell flying?" Draco asked, looking incredulous.
Honestly, it was, if Katie couldn't have her magic. His mum had been the one pushing the Wizengamot petition, because she wanted more access to Isabelle and Peter. She had even been hinting that Marcus could move his entire family into the dower house if Katie were allowed back into wizarding Britain. Personally, he liked his Muggle house and not having to live near his parents.
"She loves flying," he answered simply. "It was her favorite thing about the magical world." And Katie always looked so natural on a broom, so graceful and so happy, that he ached to see it again.
Draco was looking at him like he was a lovesick Hufflepuff. Marcus narrowed his eyes at his poncy boss and growled at him. "C'mon, Drake. Don't tell me there isn't something you'd want to do for Hermione if you could bring her back into the magical world today."
The blond wizard smiled, a shockingly nice expression on his normally smirking or sneering face. "I would take Granger to Hogwarts, to the library. Where else?"
Theo blinked, patently surprised that his two fellow Slytherins actually sounded sensitive, even a little bit wistful. Marcus spoke quickly, to correct any misapprehensions that they might be getting soft. "And then you'd do filthy things to her in the restricted section," he chortled.
Draco gave him a two-fingered salute but laughed as he did. "I might at that."
"I expect Lucretia will be disappointed," Theo observed.
"Yeah, she'll probably send some Howlers and hex a couple of the Wizengamot members the next time she sees them," Marcus agreed. "But it's not like this decision is going to keep her from seeing her grandkids." His mother, rather pragmatically for a pureblood witch, had decided to venture into the Muggle world. "She's coming over tonight to mind Isabelle and Peter, so I can take Katie out for a romantic dinner."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Your mother is spending the evening in a Muggle house, changing nappies without magic? If you tell me your father is coming along to play dolls with Isabelle, then I'll know the world has gone mad."
"Not dolls, but yeah, Brutus is coming over with gobstones and a pack of Exploding Snap cards," Marcus smiled. Isabelle, just like he would expect from a miniature Slytherin witch, had her grandad wrapped around her manipulative little finger.
He turned to Theo and bared his jagged teeth in a wide grin. "So, Nott, what are you going to do? You're the only one of us who is permitted to bring his witch back into the wizarding world."
"Even if it is on sufferance," Draco muttered, to Marcus's surprise. Given Granger's high profile and rather formidable dueling skills, he had assumed Draco would want to keep his witch far away from the wizarding world and any use of magic. But he truly sounded disappointed.
Marcus shrugged. If Draco was that fussed, he could divorce Astoria when their marital contract ran out in a few months and marry Granger. He, on the other hand, was shackled to Brunhilda until one of them died, and witches, on average, enjoyed a longer lifespan than wizards.
Theo smiled, trying hard to tamp down his enthusiasm but not quite succeeding. "Well, I think we'll keep our dinner reservation in Muggle London."
Marcus and Draco both nodded at that sensible decision. Fine dining options in the wizarding world were sparse compared to what the Muggles had to offer.
"After that, though . . . " Theo smiled like a little boy on his birthday morning. "I'm taking her to see Diagon Alley."
(x) (x) (x)
When Cho walked into the flat she shared with her husband after another grueling shift at the hospital, she was greeted by the unwelcome sight of Malcolm Foy, slouched elegantly at the kitchen table while drinking a mug of tea.
Before she could demand to know what he was doing, Theo rose from his chair, lacing his fingers with hers. "I need to speak with you," he said seriously, "and I asked him to be here to vouch for me, so you don't think I've gone around the twist. Please, sit down."
Cho took a seat next to husband and opposite the blond, feeling her apprehension rise at the steely expression in Malcolm's eyes. She had never felt entirely at ease around Hermione's boyfriend, even though he had never been anything but pleasant and polite to her.
"What is it, Theo?" she asked, striving to keep her voice calm.
Her husband continued to hold her hand even as they sat at the table. That alone was enough to alarm her, since Theo's overt displays of affection were rare and always private.
"I've wanted to tell you this for some time, even before we were married," he began. "But as a solicitor, I need to abide by the law, and it wasn't legal for me to tell you before today."
Cho wracked her brain to recall what articles she had read in today's newspaper on her break. As hard as she tried, she couldn't think of any act of parliament that could possibly apply to her marriage. Theo took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and shut it, looking helpless. Now, she truly was worried.
"Er, that is to say . . . ," her husband began, before breaking off and looking to Malcolm for assistance.
"I'm not going to tell her for you," he drawled in an annoyingly superior tone. "As precious as your hemming and hawing is, I advise you to just spit it out already."
Theo glared across the table at the other man but collected himself. "Cho, I'm a wizard," he announced, simply.
She stared at her husband's pale face and tight lips, waiting for the punchline. Looking at Theo's light blue eyes, through his glasses, she saw he looked entirely serious and more than a bit sad.
"You're joking, aren't you?" Her question was formulaic. She knew he was not, but her rational mind refused to accept it. "Aren't you?" she demanded.
Theo shook his head. "I'm not."
"He's not joking. He is a wizard," Malcolm confirmed. "We both are," he added, in a casual afterthought.
"Please, please tell me this is a joke!" she implored, her voice rising in something close to panic.
Theo squeezed her hand in reassurance. "It's not a joke, but it's not a bad thing."
Cho shook her head frantically, black hair swinging, and tried to pull away. "It's unnatural," she hissed.
Theo regarded her steadily, now looking a bit hurt.
"I don't believe you!" Cho cried in a shrill voice. "Either of you!"
"Show her your wand," Malcolm suggested impatiently.
Theo removed a polished length of wood from the back pocket of his trousers and rolled it over to her. Cho placed a cautious fingertip on the wand, feeling a humming sensation throughout her hand that was dissonant but not painful. Across the table, Malcolm was regarding her with laughing grey eyes. He had pulled his own wand from his pocket and was twirling it through long, pale fingers.
"May I touch yours?" she asked him.
He shook his blond head, laughter bubbling to the surface. "That's a very personal request to make of a wizard, Cho. Only Hermione gets to play with my wand."
Cho recoiled, but forgot her embarrassment in the face of Theo's sudden alarm.
"You don't really let her - " he began.
"Not this wand," Malcolm cut him off with a smirk. "I wouldn't dare. Granger's not as docile as your wife."
Cho narrowed her eyes, stung by that dismissal and the way he was speaking about her, as though she were not even present. "Can you actually do anything with your wand, other than brag about it?" she asked snappishly.
"Speaking of that," Theo said in a sheepish voice, once again patting her hand. "I've asked Malfoy to cast a couple of spells on you, to make sure you don't violate the Statute of Secrecy."
"You don't trust me?" She turned reproachful, dark eyes on her husband.
"With my life," Theo answered, "but the penalties for a violation are too stiff to risk."
Cho still felt hurt, but could accept that explanation. She still had one objection, however. "Does he need to do it? I would rather have you cast the spells."
Her husband looked, if possible, even more uncomfortable. "I can't," he confessed. "The spells are harmless ones that are often used on magical children - Marcus has cast them on Isabelle - but the first technically is considered a curse."
Cho looked at him, puzzled. "Why does that matter?"
Before Theo could try to explain, Malcolm lost his patience and interrupted. "May we get on with it?" he asked her husband. "It's Valentine's Day and I have plans for Granger that don't involve sitting around your kitchen table chatting all night."
Cho shivered at the heated look in those grey eyes, feeling a flicker of pity for Hermione. Theo had brought her a lovely bouquet of flowers and booked a table at a Michelin-starred Cantonese restaurant, but she was certain Malcolm had something more deviant in mind for his girlfriend.
Theo gave a hesitant nod in permission. Cho flinched as Malcolm raised his wand to her face at point-blank range.
"Mimblewimble maledix," he recited, with an evil little grin.
Cho wanted to taunt him for the nonsensical-sounding words, but a feeling like an icy wind hit her as she opened her mouth. She felt a momentary panic at the feeling of her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, but then it faded.
"What was that?" she gasped, relieved she could speak.
"Yes, what was that?" Theo echoed in cold accusation, wand leveled at the other wizard.
"A little addition of my own," Malcolm smirked. "Perfectly harmless, as you should know." He held her husband's gaze and tapped his wrist in an apparently significant gesture that Cho did not understand.
Theo still looked upset, and Malcolm huffed a sigh in exasperation. "I didn't think you would appreciate it if I hit your wife with a Babbling Hex in addition to the Tongue-Tying Curse. What's cute in a small child would seem mental in an adult woman. So I used a variation that will cause Cho to respond with scathing disbelief to any suggestion that magic exists."
He smirked at Cho. "I have every respect for my girlfriend's intelligence, but her skills at deception leave something to be desired. Now I can rely on you to undermine, with extreme bitchiness, whatever brilliant conclusion she might eventually reach as the result of your little research project."
Cho looked at him in horrified silence. The puzzle pieces were falling into place, but she wouldn't be able to share the solution with anyone. Malcolm Foy's spell would force her to belittle and antagonize Hermione if the other woman suggested magic might be the reason for their memory loss.
"Have a pleasant evening," the blond wizard bade them in a mocking tone. "I'll just show myself out."
(x) (x) (x)
"Happy Valentine's Day, dearest." Lucius Malfoy watched expectantly as his wife opened the wrapped package from Goldnuk's, mindful of her blood-red manicure.
Narcissa held up the platinum and diamond bracelet, dangling it between two fingers. From her expression, one might have thought she was holding a dead rat by the tail. "Lovely," she said tonelessly, before dropping it back into the jeweler's box.
She clapped her hands to summon one of the elves. "Tipsy, take these flowers and place them in the drawing room with the missing chandelier," she ordered. "The bracelet can go in my dressing room, in the bottom left drawer of my vanity."
"Cissy, tell me what's wrong," Lucius said pleadingly, as soon as the elf disappeared. He had bought her favorite enchanted blooms from a florist in Diagon Alley, paying an exorbitant amount due to the lovers' holiday, and now she was banishing them to a room they never used. He had purchased an exquisite bracelet - one he was certain would be sufficient to bribe his way out of the Crup kennel and back into his wife's good graces - and she hadn't even given it a second glance. This had been going on for a month now, even though Lucius could not recall having done anything particularly awful in that time. Unless Narcissa had found out about the reason for his visit to Hogwarts . . . .
"Flowers and trinkets are all very well, but I want to know what you were doing at Hogwarts last month," Narcissa stated flatly.
"It was Board of Governors business. Quite dull, but still confidential." His wife's ability to find out what she wasn't supposed to know was uncanny. He took a sip of Ogden's Old to moisten his suddenly dry mouth as his fear was realized.
"You're certain that's all it was?" Narcissa questioned, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.
"Quite certain." Lucius compressed his lips in a stubborn line. His trip to Hogwarts had not entirely been a wild goose chase, but neither his wife nor his son would appreciate the conclusions he had reluctantly drawn as patriarch of the Malfoy family.
For some few minutes, they sat in strained silence, Lucius sipping his genial beverage as Narcissa glared at him.
Then she leaned back in her chair, tapping her wand impatiently against her knee. "Ready to tell me what you were up to at Hogwarts, husband dear?"
"I wanted to see the Book of Admittance," he ground out, against his will.
"And why was that?" Narcissa asked sweetly.
Lucius stubbornly compressed his lips, fighting a futile battle against the Veritaserum in his drink. He had forgotten that particular trick, since Narcissa had not tried it on him in more than a decade. The last time had been when he had tried to conceal from her the Dark Lord's return.
Narcissa easily recognized the signs that the truth serum was working. "Do tell, darling, and then we can finish our Valentine's Day celebration upstairs in our bedroom, where there's a comfortable mattress."
"Which I will be fucking you into all night, you manipulative witch," he growled.
"Promises, promises," she smiled. "So long as you first tell me why you went to Hogwarts."
"To see what information is available to the head of Hogwarts in the Book," he stated, giving into the potion. "As it turns out, McGonagall sees only the child's name. Not the parents' names and not the child's blood status."
Narcissa's blue eyes narrowed slightly at that tidbit. "So if the necessary arrangements were made prior to birth, the Book would not show if a child is adopted?"
"Or if the child was borne by a surrogate," Lucius added, pleased that his wife had so quickly appreciated the implications. But that was one of the many reasons why he had married her.
"I fear that Astoria will not be able produce an heir," he volunteered with a heavy sigh. It had taken him years to regretfully acknowledge that fact.
Narcissa brushed it off as of no account. "I came to that conclusion long ago. But am I to understand that you intend to encourage Draco to continue the Malfoy line with some other witch?"
He nodded. "I had hoped the Book would identify some young pureblood mothers we might approach, to reach some sort of confidential arrangement. But, as I said, it only lists the names of admitted children."
Narcissa paused, seemingly engaged in some sort of internal debate. "The only young mothers I know of with pure blood are from families of blood traitors, like Ginevra Thomas. Is that what you are willing to resort to?"
Lucius cringed, both at the disgust in her tone and the mere notion of a Weasley grandchild. "No one will have to know. We'll bribe Astoria to pass off the brat as her own."
His wife continued as though he had not spoken. "You do realize that any child Draco produces with a witch is legally a pureblood. That widens the field quite a bit."
Candidly, he was surprised at her broad-mindedness. The Blacks were among the most fanatical of the pureblood families. "That's true, but it's not quite the same as being a true pureblood. Though there are half-bloods like Hannah Abbott with connections to the Sacred Twenty-Eight," he offered.
His wife sneered. "You want a grandchild out of a Hufflepuff who works as a barmaid?"
"It's not what I want," he protested. "But it may be what we have to do to prevent the Malfoy line from ending with Draco."
"He can do better than that," Narcissa said dismissively. "If you're going to sacrifice purity, there's no need to sacrifice power as well."
Lucius mulled that over as she undulated towards him, wand in hand. "But I suggest you speak with Draco directly. Our son likely has some refinements to add to your plan."
Before Lucius could inquire as to what she meant, or what she had been been plotting with their son, Narcissa was upon him, kissing and stroking and driving all coherent thoughts out of his head as only she could do.
Neither of them noticed their daughter-in-law creeping away from the doorway where she had been listening, her eyes bright with tears and her fists clenched in rage.
(x) (x) (x)
Theo wound up ringing Hakkasan to reschedule their romantic dinner. Cho simply had too many questions that could not be answered at a restaurant, in public. Instead, they ordered Chinese takeaway and he found himself explaining what he could about the wizarding world and demonstrating spells over wonton soup and chow mein noodles.
He found himself heartened by her delight at the simplest of spells. For months now, Cho had been trapped in a depressive funk. Theo had worried he would never see her bright-eyed and happy again, but here she was, smiling broadly at Lumos and Nox.
"Do it again, please!" she requested, and he cheerfully obliged by lighting, extinguishing and re-lighting the candles at their table.
"Tell me more about wizarding society," she asked, cupping a hand under her chin. The soft candlelight masked the dark circles under her eyes.
Theo brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead, marshaling his thoughts. He had shared the basics: population, the names of villages with sizable magical communities, the lack of electricity, the existence of magical creatures. At some point, however, Cho would start asking more difficult questions.
"It's easier to show you than try to explain," he temporized. "Why don't you put on your cloak?"
Thirty minutes and a short taxi ride later, they were walking through the Leaky Cauldron, with Cho looking askance at the shabby decor and dodgy clientele. Theo escorted her through the pub to the rear courtyard, where he tapped his wand against the bricks to open the archway into Diagon Alley. Standing at his shoulder, he heard Cho gasp in wonder.
Gently, he grasped her hand and led her through. "I know it's not quite hearts and flowers, but it's something I wanted to share with you."
He regarded Cho with anxiety, gauging her reaction to the most magical neighborhood in London. She clutched his hand tightly, eyes darting in all directions.
"Oh, my," she breathed, craning her head to see more.
Theo grinned at her reaction, which was all he had hoped for. When he was younger and buying his school supplies in Diagon Alley, he had always looked down at the Muggleborn students and their awe at seeing the wizarding world for the first time. Now, he wanted nothing more than to see that same amazement and joy on his wife's face.
"Here, let me show you around," he offered. Arms linked, they strolled through the cobbled streets, while Theo pointed out the goblins at Gringotts Bank and various shops. Cho cooed over the magical pets at Eyelops; admired the fashions on display at Madame Malkin's; and raised her eyebrows at the parchment and quills for sale at Scrivenshaft's.
"Why don't wizards use biros?" she asked. "There's nothing electrical about them to interfere with magic, and it's ever so much more convenient than dipping a quill into an ink pot."
"We're a traditional lot, love," he said lightly, nothing in his voice hinting that this traditionalism, taken to an extreme, had contributed to two wars and her memory loss and exile. But now she was back.
Theo let out a tiny sigh of relief that Flourish and Blott's was closing up as they walked by. While not in Hermione's league, Cho loved her books. He would be hard-pressed to explain away much of what she might read in the modern history or current events sections. He also did not point out Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes, but the joke shop was attention-grabbing enough on its own. Cho took in the bright purple storefront and eye-popping displays in silence.
"Would you like to go inside?" he inquired.
Cho shook her head with a smile. "No, pranks and practical jokes aren't really my cup of tea."
Theo hid his relief. He had no idea how George and Angelina Weasley would react to the return of a Muggleborn witch, and he wouldn't be surprised by two former Gryffindors doing something impetuous. Fortunately, no one bothered them. As a former Death Eater, Theo drew the occasional hostile glance, but no one dared to say anything. He noticed a few pureblood sticklers giving Cho a cold look, but her status as his wife and the lingering possibility that she might be a pureblood herself - that petition was still under consideration by Umbridge - prevented any heckling.
"How about a cuppa, then?" he asked, gesturing towards a tea shoppe down a side street. "They have a nice herbal blend."
She was on the verge of agreeing when a stocky man in a black, hooded cloak brushed by them. He was a stranger to Theo and not a Death Eater, but Cho shrank back against him. Her breathing sped up as she surveyed the thinning crowd. Her eyes widened in panic, rather than wonderment, and her grip on Theo's arm tightened.
"All those men in cloaks," she breathed in terror. "We need to leave. Now!"
"It's alright," he soothed. "They're wearing cloaks because it's a cold night."
Cho was beyond listening to reason, tugging hard on his arm to lead him back to the Leaky and Muggle London. "It's not safe, it's not safe," she chanted under her breath. "They'll hurt me, they'll rape me, they'll make me do things - "
"Stop!" Theo said sharply, giving her a little shake despite the ache in his wrist. He needed to snap her out of an emotional state that was fast approaching hysteria. Never had he anticipated that bringing her to Diagon Alley would trigger her memories - especially those memories. "You're safe with me."
He gripped her slight shoulders, staring intently into her eyes. Cho's pupils were dilated with fear, but she seemed to be listening. "No one is going to hurt you, no one is going to rape you, and no one is going to make you do anything you don't wish to do."
The firmness in his voice matched his hold on her shoulders, to keep her from bolting. She sagged against him, no longer pulling on his arm, but with her breath still coming in rapid pants. Theo wrapped his arm around her, cursing himself at how she was shivering in fear, and led her towards the exit from the alley.
To keep from breaking down himself, he pretended not to hear her whispered, broken protest. "But Theo . . . they already did."
