I don't own HP. Wish I did, but I don't.
Author's Note: Yep, surprise chapter. I'm American. If you follow either of my tumblrs you know just how I feel about the election (I'm aroseindaegu and enigmaticrose4).
So, to make myself feel better (and I haven't even replied to all the previous chapter's reviews) here's a mid-week chapter.
P.S. This is edited a bit, because, as someone pointed out, not all of you have my political beliefs. But, even so, you can likely guess just from my writing that I'm rather liberal. At least socially. I'm just explaining why I'm posting an extra chapter. If me being against Trump is cause to stop reading Brightest Black, go ahead. I'm not going to force anyone to read my fanfiction.
XXX
The next day dawned bright and sunny, but still impossibly cold. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement when she realized the snow had stuck and that it was a white Christmas.
There were gifts piled at the foot of her bed, but she didn't feel like opening them alone, so she gathered them into her bag and crossed the hall to the room Harry and Draco were sharing. They had put Narcissa up in the small guest room. Tonks and Alianore had slept on cots in the sitting room, though Hermione assumed the two of them were long gone by now. Helping Uncle Remus recover from the transformation. Padfoot usually handled it, but with his injuries it was all he could do to climb the stairs to his bedroom in the evening. They'd built a special room in the Marauder's Academy just for him. She'd hopefully see them all later at the Burrow.
A quiet knock on the boys' door got Harry shouting out, "Come on in! We're decent!"
She entered and instantly felt warmth and happiness spread through her, mixing with the thrill of excitement from earlier. The room was virtually unchanged from before Draco joined Harry. Though the bed had been magically transformed so that the canopy had become an upper bunk for Draco.
There just wasn't room for two individual beds.
Hence why Draco had climbed down and was sitting cross-legged at the foot of Harry's bed as the two of them opened the presents that had been left for them overnight.
Harry was near the head, propped up against his pillow, so she plopped herself in the middle and began pulling gifts out of her bag.
She noticed that most of Draco's gifts were wrapped in the snitch bedecked paper Padfoot had bought, though there was one wrapped in Mrs. Weasley's home-charmed paper. The Ws kept rolling around to form Ms, which Hermione thought was a nice touch.
"Happy Christmas," she said as he tore into her own Weasley gift. A lovely jumper of-
She paused and stared at it in surprise and a bit of shock.
It was BLACK! And it had flames on the front, with what looked like an egg resting among them.
"What the..."
"I'm going to guess one of the Weasley's let slip to her our nicknames," Harry said ruefully as he held up a midnight blue jumper with a pair of antlers on the front.
"That doesn't explain mine. Or why I even have one."
And, indeed, Draco was holding up his own Weasley jumper. This one was Slytherin green (Which shocked Hermione quite a bit!) and had a silver dragon.
Mrs. Weasley had never knit such elaborate sweaters before. And the wool was a much higher quality than normal.
"There's a note," she said, pointing to small piece of parchment that had fallen onto Draco's lap.
He picked it up and scanned it, his eyebrows rising up his forehead as he did so.
"She's apologizing, says she has only been working on it for the past two days and that if it's a bit rough around the edges, she'll ensure the next one isn't."
Harry chuckled, "I guess you're part of the family now, we better get you a coin."
Hermione nodded and jumped off the bed. When she came back a few moments later Draco was still looking stunned and a bit overwhelmed, but he had put the jumper on over his borrowed pajamas.
His room had been above the dining room at Malfoy Manor. Not much of his wardrobe had survived the blast Hermione had sent at the ceiling. So he was borrowing Harry's things until they could safely make a trip to Diagon Alley.
It's not like the Malfoy vaults had been touched. And while Draco couldn't access them by himself until June, Lucius Malfoy had acted very intelligently and made Narcissa the executer of his estate if he should die before Draco could inherit.
"Here, Draco,"
He reached up to take the coin and then froze, "You-you called me by my given name."
Something in his voice made her heart flutter, but she stomped it down.
"You're living in my home. Plus, you're family. Calling you Malfoy just seems silly now."
His smile made her breath catch and she found herself easily returning it.
A cough from Harry brought their attention to him.
"Look what I just found."
He was holding up an ancient leather tome. Potter was pressed into the leather and painted Gryffindor red.
"How...didn't Padfoot say be couldn't find it?" Hermione asked, gazing at it in wonder. After recieving hers they had attempted to find the Potter one, with no luck. Copies may be magically delivered to all qualifying family members, but the originals had to be physically passed down.
"There's a note," Draco said, leaning across Hermione and pulling a scrap of parchment out of the plain brown wrapping paper.
His shoulder brushed against Hermione's chest and she felt her skin tingle where they made contact. She felt uncomfortably warm and she scooted back a bit.
"Personal space, please." She managed to get out in a flat voice.
Draco flushed a pale pink but merely nodded as he sat up straight and read the note aloud.
Mr. Potter,
I managed to collect this from the old fool's belongings before the Ministry arrived. He never managed to open it as he has no Potter blood in his veins. I am unsure where the matriarchal tome is, but as it is meant to be used by non-Potter wives I can only assume the secrets were stolen. Guard this well, and use it to stay alive.
S.S.
"Will wonders never cease? If I was any older I might have a heart attack," Harry said in wonder as he took the note.
"That is most certainly Professor Snape's handwriting," Draco stated as he pulled out the only present left not wrapped in Padfoot's snitch paper.
It looked like a book and Hermione had a strong suspicion of what it was.
"Why do you think Dumbledore had the Potter Tome? Shouldn't he have given it to Padfoot to pass onto Harry?" Hermione asked absently, pulling out a gift and opening it to find more animated animal chocolates from Luna. She sighed. That girl could be creative, but she tended to latch onto whatever she thought was a good idea.
Hermione rather thought she'd be getting this chocolate until the day she died. All because she said she'd liked it.
"Dumbledore may have been a Gryffindor, but he was almost as Slytherin as my mother," Draco said absently as he ran his hands over the green leather cover of his own family tome.
"Point," Harry said, before popping a bit of Mrs. Weasley's fudge in his mouth.
Hermione rolled her eyes and dug out another gift just as a knock sounded on the door.
"It's open!" Harry called out.
Padfoot pushed it open and leaned against the doorframe, being careful not to strain his re-growing back muscles.
She frowned, "Padfoot, are you going to do the physical therapy like I suggested? Once your muscles are regrown?"
He winced, "And a Happy Christmas to you too. But, yes, I have an appointment with Frank Tonks the day you lot head back to Hogwarts. He did a good job with you, and he's helped Theo Nott quite a bit, even if they've only met twice so far. Andy says it's done quite a bit to improve the poor boy's mood."
Something made Hermione turn and look at Draco as Padfoot spoke. The expression on his face tugged at her heartstrings and she reached out to touch his shoulder. He jumped, but didn't pull away. Instead he stared at her hand for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching up to pat it in thanks.
Something inside of Hermione shifted in that moment.
She couldn't explain it, not even if she had pulled out a dictionary.
XXX
Draco stepped neatly from the fireplace and instantly found himself in another world.
The Black Cottage had been remarkably different from Malfoy Manor, but it had still contained a layer of gentility. It was tastefully decorated and all of furniture was of a high quality.
The Burrow was the exact opposite.
The rug under his feet was faded and threadbare. The sofa was one of the most hideous things he had ever seen, though he had to admit it looked remarkably comfortable.
Or, at least, Weasley looked incredibly comfortable there with Lovegood cuddled up next to him.
A sliver of guilt stabbed through Draco as he studied his two classmates as they greeted Harry and Hermione.
Weasley was extremely pale and Draco noticed he only moved his arms. He'd been hit with some sort of nasty curse across the torso. Likely wouldn't be alive if luck hadn't been on his side.
Lovegood was running one of her small hands through Weasley's hair. Her own was cropped close and mostly hidden under a blue knitted cap. One that looked to be handmade. He looked down at the dragon sweater he wore and then back at the cap. The cap had to be a gift from Mrs. Weasley.
Of course she'd knit Lovegood a cap to hid her injuries.
Injuries sustained from rescuing his mother. A rescue only required because he'd defied the Dark Lord.
He felt guilt rise up, trying to swamp him, but he stamped it down. He'd spent a long time last night thinking, and Harry's words, the one's Padfoot had given him, rang true.
There was no one to blame but Lord Voldemort. And Draco was going to anything and everything in his power to help Harry – and Hermione – take that monster down.
"Oi'! Malfoy! Do you plan to stand there all night?"
Weasley's words drew Draco back to the present. He pasted on a smirk and spit out a comeback that came naturally after so many years of trading taunts back and forth. An instant too late he felt himself wince as he realized now likely wasn't the time to act in such a manner.
"I don't know, Weasley, do you plan to lie there all night?"
An awkward silence descended on the sitting room for half a heartbeat before Weasley threw his head back and laughed.
"If it keeps me from doing any work, of course!"
Weasley's comment made the others relax and laugh. The room filled with a comforting cheeriness. Very similar to what he had felt that morning, as he'd opened gifts on Harry's bed.
The fire roared just then and his Aunt Andromeda stepped through.
Draco's heart stopped, he knew who was coming next.
And, sure enough, there he was.
Theo was dressed in rather simple robes that looked as if they had been altered to fit him. His hair was neatly combed and he looked almost exactly like he had before.
That is, except for the black glove over his right hand. Draco knew there was no flesh incased in that glove.
It was merely a metal hand that Theo was still learning to use and control.
Draco's mouth was too dry to form words as he looked as his old childhood friend. Searching his bony face for any sign of blame. After all, Theo hadn't been about to be forced to get a mark. It was Draco's words that had led to-
"Well, Draco, we sure rolled a long way, did we not?"
The lopsided smile on Theo's face released the tension in Draco's body just as much as the words did.
He smiled back and approached his friend, giving him a half-hug. "Happy Christmas, Theo."
Theo returned the hug, "Happy Christmas, Draco."
They pulled away from each other and Draco realized everyone was staring at them. He arched an eyebrow, "Is something the matter?"
"No, we're just all happy to see you two smile," Lovegood stated, giving him a small smile.
"Point."
Everyone spoke at once, except for Theo, who just looked confused. Draco found himself grinning and pushing all negative thoughts away.
"Theo, let's go see if there's some butterbeer and I'll explain what sort of insanity I rolled you into."
That elicited chuckles from everyone as Draco led his fellow Slytherin out of the room.
XXX
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, Draco could feel everyone forcing themselves to push all negative thoughts away and enjoy the day.
Bill Weasley was gifted a lovely box of Honeydukes chocolate for winning in 'Points'. All of his siblings declared it wasn't fair. They were positive that Fleur Delacour had helped him cheat. She was, after all, his fiancée. Buty she insisted she only gave him points when he was correct. It wasn't her fault he was often correct.
Draco wisely stayed out of the argument. He noticed the other non-Weasleys did the same. The argument lasted all through dinner and was only stopped during pudding by Bill splitting his chocolate with all of his siblings. From the knowing glances Draco could only assume this was what happened whenever a Weasley won.
He shook his head in puzzlement, he didn't understand large families.
It was a bit of a shock to his system when he was heading to the toilet and overheard his mother speaking with Aunt Andromeda and Mrs. Weasley. His mother's voice was full of sorrow, and the other women could be heard murmuring words of comfort. He'd felt like an interloper, pressing his ear to the door, so he'd walked away.
If his father had died in service to Lord Voldemort, rather than defying him, would anyone have comforted her?
Somehow, he couldn't see it.
When he'd returned to the sitting room he found Theo engaged in a game of wizarding chess with Weasley. Hermione was engaged in a discussion on space verse time with Lovegood. He absently noticed a notebook in front of the girls, one they occasionally wrote in. Harry was sitting before the fire with the Weaslette, helping her clean and care for her broomstick.
He stood awkwardly in the doorway, not quite sure who to approach. He had just made up his mind to go and watch the chess game when he caught a new voice coming from the kitchen.
Snape.
Curious he slipped back out into the corridor and we to stand outside the entryway to the small, almost-cramped kitchen.
It looked even more cramped with the chair that had been transfigured so that Padfoot could sit comfortably, without placing strain on his back. Every legal adult was there, even his mother. She was once again her collected, regal self. No sign of the earlier weakness he'd heard through the door.
Snape was pacing back and forth in front of fire, agitation visible in every movement.
He had stumbled upon what had to be an Order meeting. One his mother had been invited to.
He really had rolled a long way from where had started.
"Well, Snape, what's happening at Hogwarts?" Mr. Weasley asked.
Snape grimaced, "The bloody Ministry is crawling all over the place. Trying to find proof Dumbledore was behind what happened at Malfoy Manor. They're trying to get all their aurors tested for confundous charms. So far St. Mungos is being smart and reporting the truth. Doesn't stop Fudge. I heard from Pomfrey that Shacklebolt's been test six times in the past few days. They're insane. I managed to remove anything important from the Headmaster's personal quarters and office before the officials arrived. McGonagall is acting headmistress, and that may be all she can be for a while. The board of governors is decimated. Most were from old pureblood families that are now on the run. Or a few were Order members that didn't make it. You need at least seven members to install a new headmaster, we have three. And one," he glared at Padfoot, "is too injured to even attend meetings."
Padfoot grimaced, but said nothing. Draco knew he'd barely managed to make the trip to the Burrow. It would be a bit before his muscles regrew. Greyback had taken a massive chunk out of his shoulder.
"Severus, play nice," his mother admonished.
"Indeed," Mrs. Weasley stated, eyeing the potions master suspiciously. "We know you're a double agent. Albus vouched for you before, and Narcissa does now. Doesn't mean the rest of us trust you."
Snape glared at the woman, but pushed on, "The Dark Lord has fled the British Isles with his few remaining Death Eaters. I've been ordered to lie low and be ready at a moment's notice. For what, I know not. But I suspect it won't be pretty. He shares one thing in common with the Ministry, and that is their anger at how quickly Miss Black got an article out after the battle." He aimed a glare at Padfoot, and then Mother, "She should have been healing, not writing."
Mr. Lovegood cleared his throat, "I wrote the rough draft and read it to her. She suggested changes and I did all the work. We did not risk her health."
"Indeed."
Snape did not appear to believe him, and Draco understood why. He'd been woken up to Hermione demanding the quill, wanting to do the writing herself. For a moment he'd thought he'd still been dreaming. It had been a wonderful, if confusing dream where Hermione kept telling him to be safe every time he took a bite of an apple. But when he'd finished the apple she'd smiled and taken the core, transfiguring it into a shield. After that she had demanded his quill and he'd been protesting that he didn't have one. Thinking on it now, he wondered if it had anything to do with the link he'd unknowingly formed with her.
Luckily he hadn't said anything embarrassing when Mr. Lovegood had proven he'd been the one to give his daughter her stubbornness and refused to let Hermione do her own writing.
Mr. Lovegood opened his mouth to supposedly reiterate the fact that he had kept Hermione safe, but Draco saw a very tired Professor Lupin kick him under the table and shake his head.
He'd always thought the werewolf was a smart one.
"Do we know what the current international opinion is on You-Know-Who?" Fred (or George, Draco certainly couldn't tell them apart). Draco frowned. The Weasley twins were holding a notebook that looked remarkably similar to the one he'd seen lying between Hermione and Lovegood.
Something began to prickle at his mind. A mystery he thought it would be in his best interests to uncover.
A dark-haired Asian man Draco didn't know answered, "He's certainly got no allies in Japan. His talk of blood status reminds too many of things that nearly led us to ruin back during Grindlewald's time. We're trying to rebuild ourselves, look to the future, not fall prey to mistakes of the past."
"He's got a few people in France that support him, but they do so very quietly. Public opinion is with Harry and Hermione. They love her articles. My grandmother's been saving every one in a scrapbook. Says she's witnessing history in the making," Alianore said.
Mr. Weasley spoke up, "Most of our international students are quite disgusted nothing's been done about You-Know-Who already. I had a number of them come to me after the Battle of Malfoy Manor and offer their services in any way they can. I think the cincher was the idea of child soldiers. On both sides. Those pictures Narcissa managed to get of the battle really opened some eyes."
"How did you manage to get pictures?" Tonks asked curiously.
His mother smiled one her Slytherin smiles (How had he never realized before what those smiles truly hid?) and simply stated, "I simply, oh, what was that phrase you used Arthur? Bugged the room?"
Draco frowned, when he heard the word 'bug' he thought of-
He inwardly groaned and rolled his eyes. Of course his mother had somehow managed to enlist Rita Skeeter. Hadn't they been in the same year at Hogwarts? Or were they a year apart? Whatever, it was all the same in the end.
And with Lockhart recaptured that meant Skeeter would likely continue Voldemort's 'memoirs', meaning she would be out of most fights and free to pursue all sorts of information.
It did make him wonder where the cameras had been hidden, though.
He heard his name and instantly focused back in on the conversation.
"-Draco and Theodore. There will have to be some changes made in Slytherin if they are to be safe," Snape was saying.
"I believe they're in the sitting room," Aunt Andromeda said. "Want me to get them?"
"No, I shall get them myself."
Draco turned and hurried down back into the sitting room. He earned curious glances from the others as he quickly took a seat on the sofa next to Ron and tried to look like he'd been there all evening.
Snape entered a moment later, "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott, foll-"
"Don't call me that," Theo practically snapped.
The room lost its cheeriness and began to feel a bit cold.
"Excuse me?" Snape practically hissed.
Draco saw trepidation in his old friend's eyes, but he still raised his chin and met the Potion Master's eyes, "Don't call me Mr. Nott. That's the name of the man that tried to murder me."
The two Slytherins stared at each other and the entire room held their breath. Finally, Snape nodded, "Very well. Mr. Malfoy, Theodore, follow me."
He turned and swept out of the room, his cloak billowing behind him.
Draco scrambled to his feet and followed, Theo right beside him.
Snape led them upstairs and they entered a small room that had obviously once belonged to one of the older boys, but had been sort of repurposed as a guest room. Draco guessed the pictures of dangerous looking dragons had been permanently stuck there. Either that, or Mrs. Weasley couldn't stand to tear them down.
The more he thought on the little he'd seen of the woman over the past few days, the more he thought it was the latter option.
Snape pointed at the small, neatly made bed, "Sit."
He studied their faces for a moment and then let out a small sigh and pulled out the rickety desk chair and took a seat. It wobbled dangerously, but held firm.
"I suspect, that the Hogwarts you return to shall be different from the one you left. In your own dormitory you'll find Vincent Crabbe gone. He's currently in Azkaban awaiting trial. There's a very good chance he'll merely be suspended for a year, like Cormac Mclaggen was. He performed no dark curses with his wand and had family pressure. Between this and the fact that Gregory Goyle has disappeared, along with his entire family, means that your dormitory will only contain the two of you and Blaise Zabini. I understand that you, Theodore, are good friends with him, but I want you to be careful. The Zabini family's loyalties have always remained with those that will grant them the most rewards. I want you two to watch your words around him, understand?"
Draco nodded, and could see Theo nodding beside him.
"Now, Mr. Malfoy, if you could go, I need to speak with Theodore. Unless you have a question?"
The Potions Master stared at him, his black eyes glittering dangerously, and Draco shook his head and stood up.
As soon as he was out of the door he pressed his ear to it, but all he heard was a faint buzzing.
Annoyed, he turned to go back downstairs, but was stopped as his arm was grabbed, and, before he could even make a move for his wand he was yanked inside of another bedroom.
He stumbled as he was practically thrown into the room. Somehow he managed to right himself and pull out his wand as he spun around. Inwardly he thought that Alianore would be quite proud of this complicated movement.
Still, she'd likely say he was dead.
Because, standing there, behind a silently closed door, was Hermione. Gone was the look of happy enjoyment she'd had all morning and afternoon. In its place was a very determined look that sent a tingle down his spine.
And he didn't think that tingle was fear, either.
Still, the words out of her mouth surprised him.
"Well, Draco, what did Snape want?"
Author's Note: Yes, it's a cliffhanger, but the good news you only have to wait half a week this time. And, this was a nice, happy chapter.
Right?
A nice break from the last few chapters.