Hallo once again, my dear Readers!
Yeah, finally the next chapter. Sorry for the delay but time is flying in the moment, the first Christmas-businesses are blooming and the days are simply too short. Sigh. But now the next chapter is up and I hope you're going to enjoy it like I did during my writing.
I wish you fun,
have a wonderful 1. Advent,
thank you so very much for the reviews,
yours Lywhn!
Chapter 54 – Changes in Malfoy Manor
The first rays of the winter sun peeked over the horizon and bathed the white landscape in a display of glistening snow crystals. The clear night had been cold, and another beautiful winter day was on its way.
In the main dining room of Malfoy manor, two young people lay asleep, limbs entwined, smiles not far from their lips. The girl began to stir and sighed deeply.
Hermione escaped Morpheus' soft bindings slowly, but something was telling her that her present situation was ... unusual. After last year, she had learned to listen to that inner voice. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she saw two things simultaneously: first, the familiar face of a sleeping Draco Malfoy; second, that they were on the floor - of a very large room. Trying to sort out these images, she became aware that she was enveloped not only in her lover's arms and legs, but also from something… furry? She lifted her head and saw that she really was buried in several pelts.
With another sigh, Hermione lay back, enjoying in the delicious feeling of furs on her bare skin. The air was chill, but the pelts (and Draco) kept her warm. She smiled, remembering the preceding night – the way she and her forbidden lover caressed and fondled each other, the sensation of the furs around them, the crackling of the flames in the fireplace, the ecstasy she had felt in his arms. They had made love many nights since he successfully seduced her after Slughorn's Advent party, and in the hours after the Christmas feast, as their parting approached, they had come together even more intensely, but last night topped them all. They had loved each other with fierce tenderness that had opened them both to new sensitivity and intimacy. She had surrendered completely to him and her feelings, which drove her to him with no way back. And as she straddled him when he rolled himself on his back, taking her with him, she had seen the same sweet surrender on his face – and the strength of the warmth in his eyes. They had forgotten everything around them, even the room that held so much sorrow for them …
She bolted upright, eyes wide, ears straining for a sound. Her head whipped around as she took in their location, and she groaned, seeing that they were – indeed – in the main dining room of the mansion. Naked. And the first light through the windows told her that it was morning.
Morning…
The Malfoys…
Oh NO!
"Draco!" she whispered urgently, "Draco, wake up!" She shook him and earned a moan and a growl. Oh no! That dreadful morning temperament! "Wake up!" she hissed, shaking him more roughly now. One eyelid rose halfway – finally! – he mumbled, "Wha'?"
"Get up, now! We're in the dining room, it's morning and your parents can be here any moment!"
Draco, completely dozy, stifled a yawn. "Just send 'em 'way!" he replied, and moved closer to her and prepared to doze off again, when she snapped in his ear: "Draco Malfoy! Your parents are about to catch us naked – in a love nest on the floor of their own dining room!"
This time, the words penetrated, and yawning, he opened both eyes, blinked at the windows, rubbed his face and looked around him – then sat bolt upright, uttering an oath and almost colliding with Hermione. Taking in his surroundings, memory had returned.
With another oath, more foul than the first, he pulled his lover to her feet, throwing Hermione's clothes at her, before he slipped in his own pants – giving the Muggle born witch a delightful view of his entire form, bathed in sunlight. Despite their situation, Hermione couldn't help but sigh at the sight of his tall youthful ... exuberance.
Draco caught her staring and smirked for a moment. "Like what you see?" he teased and Hermione smirked at the shared joke.
"Yes," she nodded, sliding on her own pyjamas and socks, now being observed with equal appreciation.
"Mutual!" he snickered and held out his hand. "Accio wand!" he whispered and it flew straight into his hand, preparing to undo the transformations about them.
"Where is mine?" he heard her ask.
He sighed in exasperation. "Granger! You and that wand!" He pinched his nose. "That's the first wandless magic I'm going to teach you."
It was that moment they both heard Pipsy's voice in the hallway, discussing the upcoming dinner tomorrow with someone – in an unusually loud voice. Both students momentarily froze, eyes wide on each other, then Draco reacted. "Accio Granger's wand!" he whispered, and threw it at Hermione a second later.
"…Pipsy will be happy to talk to you later about it-" The elf's shouts were followed by a thunderous sneeze, and then the stern voice of Narcissa Malfoy.
Both paused, staring at each other with wildly beating hearts. The lady of the house would be here in seconds ... !
Thinking quickly, Draco turned the furs back to robes, dragging them and his little Gryffindor to one of the windows.
"But the furniture-" Hermione began, and he shook his head.
"No time!" He pushed her behind folds of the long plush velvet curtain and slipped beside her. It wasn't the most inventive places to hide, but it was sufficient. Both of them cast illusion charms just as the lady of the house gasped ...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Narcissa Malfoy woke that morning feeling unusually light, certain that something good was about to happen that day. She felt it 'in her bones' and for a moment, she was tempted to pull the blanket over her head and enjoy it, but this feeling of something interesting lurking somewhere in the shadows wouldn't let her lie there. Finally she could bear it no longer and rose. She slid from the tall warm bed and slipped on her robe, heading to the bathroom to start her day. She cast an affectionate look at her husband when she rounded the bed. Lucius was still asleep, and his long hair was a mess. Sighing, the witch closed the door, and when she reappeared half an hour later – freshly showered and coiffed, and wearing a morning robe – her husband sat up, clearly not yet truly awake. His grey eyes were small slits in the morning light, and he glanced around. He grumbled a 'good morning', shoved the tangled strands away from his face, and looked about, as if he didn't know what to do with himself.
"Sleep well, Luc?" Narcissa asked and got an answer that was typical for her husband in the morning: a mixture of a groan, a mumble and a deep sigh. She smiled – he and his son had so much in common.
Lucius was still very tired. He had lain awake until, well, after midnight, thinking about what Draco and Hermione Granger revealed to him; turning over the riddles, pondering the dangers his son obviously was facing. He'd finally fallen asleep around two, unaware of the girl tiptoeing to the dining room to face her own demons. Now awake, Lucius knew he couldn't sleep again and tossed the covers back. If it was morning, he could do some administrative work he had put off the last few days. He was aware that his wife was wide awake and shook his head. He was the 'night person' and Narcissa the 'morning person'. 'Somehow she always manages to look the lady through and through.'
"Take your time, darling, I'll be in the salon," Narcissa kissed him on the forehead and left the master bedroom, almost tripping over Pipsy who was sleeping in the doorway. Frowning, Narcissa bent over the house elf she had just waked up. Pipsy rubbed her eyes and jumped to her feet, curtsying hastily.
"What ... what are you doing here?" the lady inquired.
The protruding eyes looked up and down the hall before she squeaked: "Pipsy fell asleep, noble Lady, as she wanted to-"
Narcissa waved her aside. "Never mind. Is the tea hot?"
"Almost, Madame," Pipsy responded, following her mistress down the hall. She was quite distressed, twisting her thin hands together. Her young master had ordered her to warn him when one of his parents left their bedroom, and what had she done? Fallen asleep! She fervently prayed that Master Draco was no longer in the dining room with the girl Pipsy had grown quite fond of. If the two were caught, it would be her fault. Her mind raced, only to come up the idea: to talk to her mistress about the upcoming New Years Eve's dinner – loudly.
Narcissa resisted the urge to cover her ears. Not that high-pitched squeal so early in the morning! "Pipsy, we'll talk about it later!" she said over the elf's inane babbling, and rubbed her temple with one hand, as the house elf answered even louder "Of course, noble Lady. Pipsy will be happy to talk to you later about it – " She caught the irritated and baffled gaze of her mistress and her sneeze thundered loud enough to make the windows tremble. Hopefully the young master heard them – if he was still in the dining room, that's it.
Narcissa stopped and turned to face the little one, fists akimbo. "Stop that noise, you stupid thing!" she snapped.
The helpful sprite looked up with her most innocent looks. "Pipsy caught cold," she said, feeling the pain of lying to her mistress, but her love for her young master was stronger.
Sighing, Narcissa waved her off. "Then go to bed and cure it."
Pipsy raised her eyes to her mistress, then bowed deeply. "Thank you, Lady! Thank you for allowing Pipsy to take resting!"
Narcissa sighed, throwing her hands into the air. "Elves!" Narcissa proceeded down the corridor, her slippers silent as she walked down the hallway, smiling as she noticed the clear day through the windows. She passed the entrance to the dining room and threw a casual glance into the hall as she did every morning, before she continued her way and…
And stopped dead exactly three steps later.
Had she seen it right? A green carpet? Black and white marble on the floor? In the dining room?
Eyes like saucers, she turned back. Had she imagined it ... But there it all was. She took in the changed room – the strange furniture, the new carpet, the different look of the floor… even the chandeliers had been redesigned.
Disbelieving, she moved over the threshold, glancing around. Where the heavy complicated Tudor style had been, the straight and classical, upright style of two hundred years ago now dominated. The walls and the ceiling, as well as the curtains, were the same, but the room had a completely different ambiance. It was still exquisite, costly, but easier on the eyes, less dark. She found the flower arrangement on the long table, the pale covering of the seats and armrests, then examined the carpet and the white and black marble …
Someone walked up behind her. It was her drowsy husband, clad in his black morning robe, the hair pulled into a loose tail. He blinked several times and looked around him. "Nice work," he mumbled and yawned behind a hand.
Narcissa could only look at him. 'Nice work'? That was all he had to say to… to that? No, no, certainly not. She knew in seconds, Lucius would be fully awake and enraged.
The lord of the manor glanced around and nodded – more to himself than to her. "About time," he said, and rubbed his face to chase away the sleep. "Delightfully tasteful as always, my dear, but next time, let me know when you decide to redecorate." He turned around and left, not even noticing the baffled expression of his wife, who looked at him as if he had grown another head.
She shook her own. As if she would do such a thing without speaking with him in advance! Of course she knew, who was responsible for this. There was only one person who would dare such a thing without asking permission. And she would have a long conversation with him about it! Couldn't he have discussed it with her before he gave in to the urge to demonstrate his transfiguration skills?
Once again she looked about the hall. Well, the new style was a positive change. Best of all, she couldn't see the inhuman face of Voldemort at the head of the table anymore. Truthfully, the white and black marble with the carpet matched well the family's emblem, but she was indeed amazed by Lucius' lack of reaction to the change, done without his permission. But, again, she noticed he was acting a little strange over the last days. She didn't know what was troubling him, but troubled he was. She knew her husband inside out – like her son.
She turned around to walk to her salon, but a soft snoring brought her back. Glancing at the two portraits, she found them sound asleep. Odd! Usually they were awake and chatting long before she or Lucius rose. Stepping closer she addressed one of them several times, then sighed as she realized that the portraits were suffering from a sleeping spell. She reversed it with a soft flick of her wand.
'Just you wait, my son, we have much to talk about!' she thought and left the dining room; missing the faces of the two young people peeking out from behind one of the curtains; relief written all over them.
Hogwarts' two Head-Students darted back to their rooms, guided by Pipsy, who had waited for them behind a large Chinese vase in the hallway. With a look of apology, she had signalled quiet and crept ahead of them down the corridor, startling at every sound. But, oh wonder, they made it back to their rooms without being caught.
Draco grinned as they reached their hallway – "Victory!" he whispered, and winked at her before he slipped into his own room, to dress for the day. He felt the familiar and welcome discomforts in his body, results of last night's sweet activities. Opening the curtains with one flick of his wand, he turned to Pipsy, who was nervously asking forgiveness because she had fallen asleep.
"Pipsy will iron her hands for letting young master down and…"
That got his attention. The image was shocking to him. Before Hermione, he'd never thought about the helpful house sprites, but after witnessing the cruel barbarity during the war, the thought of allowing someone to torture themselves made him shudder. He gulped to think what his sweet Kitten would think of him if one of the house elves would punish herself during her stay. Interrupting Pipsy's mea culpa, he dropped to his knee and took her tiny shoulders in his hands.
"Listen, Pipsy, and listen very closely. You didn't let me down. Rather the opposite! You helped Hermione by waking me up last night. You did your duty and alerted me before my mother got here. So there is no reason whatsoever for you to punish yourself, do you understand?"
The large eyes were filled with tears by now and the chin quivered. "B-b-but Pipsy lied to the lady!" she sniffled, and Draco smiled.
"I'll bet you didn't. I'll bet you never even mentioned Hermione or me or the dining room, did you?" More tears leaked as she shook her head. He cocked his. "And you did a fine job. Brilliant idea to sneeze like that. Without your warning, we would have been caught." He rose. "So, no hurting yourself, understand?"
As expected, the house elf burst into tears, sobbing loudly, "Thank you, young master!" Draco sighed, and asked himself for the first time what kind of spell or curse forced the elves to hurt themselves as soon as they thought they weren't loyal to the families they served. Maybe – just maybe! – Hermione was right, that something should be done about that law concerning house elves. To control them like this was wrong and -
Draco caught himself. Here he was, pondering about the moral legality of enslaving house elves as they had for centuries now. Someone should whack him on the back of the head. Dismissing the grateful, still weeping Pipsy – and blessing the silence she left behind – the Head-Boy threw himself on his bed, just to rest his eyes. He thought back on the dining room and how it looked now in the sunlight with the new décor. He liked it, and obviously his father did, too, which was good.
His father …
Draco was blown sideways by Lucius' reaction. He had expected a detonation from the older man, a fit that would have led to several ... um ... uncomfortable actions, but what had happened? Lucius complimented the new look, mumbled something Draco couldn't understand, and walked away. Regrettably, he had missed the face of his mother, but he smiled crookedly as he imagined her expression: shock written on her beautiful face, mind in turmoil. And not only because of the transformed hall, but also about her husband's reaction. Draco grinned. If his father really liked the new style then they would keep the room like it was now – something he looked forward to.
A soft slap followed by tapping on the window attracted his attention. Turning his head he saw an owl watching him through the glass. Muggles would have found it incomprehensible that someone could read the expression of a bird, but in the case of this bird, even the most insensitive Muggle could not fail to see that this owl was in bad mood. Sighing, Draco rose and let the bird in – a barn owl – and offered a cracker from the desk to the feathered messenger, as he untied the letter. The owl eyed the treat, took it and made itself comfortable on his desk, putting its head beneath one wing. (It had arrived last evening, but gotten no reply from inside the house, so it had to wait until it heard voices from inside and announced itself again – this time with success.)
Draco unfolded the scrap, took his wand and whispered a charm, and found himself holding a two-page letter in his hand a moment later. Frowning, he glanced at the unfamiliar handwriting turned to the signature on the second page. Luna Lovegood? Since when did Looney write to him? He began to read and the expression on his face turned from curious to tense. So, Abdelghani and Layla had been active lately? And why did Layla …
There was a knock at his door, and startled, he hastily folded the letter, shrank it again and put it in the waistband of his pyjamas, before he called, "Come in!"
It was his mother who entered, and lifted a brow. "Good morning, Draco. Still in bed?"
"I just got up," he answered, telling himself that this was almost the truth. After all he only got up a quarter hour ago. He placed a kiss on her cheek, returning her glance before hers shifted to his throat, then back to his tousled hair and finally found his eyes again.
"Yes, I can understand that you were still in bed. It must have been a ... stressful night for you." She moved past him and for a moment, he nearly panicked, then he calmed himself. His mother couldn't know about him and Hermione and their activities last night. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully. She sat down in one of his armchairs, gracefully crossing her long legs.
"The work you did in the dining room is lovely, and certainly long past due." She saw him blushing, and looked again at his neck… a love-bite? – and continued: "Your father was duly impressed with your choice of style, but would you explain to me please why you did it at night, secretly, without asking us about it?"
Telling the truth would be easy now. He was sure his mother would understand, for she had endured shame and humiliation there as well, and would have known how Hermione felt, but an inner voice warned him not to bring up Hermione just now. So he took a deep breath and answered: "I thought I could surprise you."
Narcissa eyed him a moment, then she snorted. "That you did, son, in spades. I'm still bewildered by the fact that your father took it so well." Draco raised his eyebrows at his mother – for this was supposed to be the first he'd heard about it. "Oh yes, he seemed quite satisfied with it when he saw it. Why the Empire style?"
Draco shrugged. "I like the style. It's ... lighter, I guess, not heavy like the other furniture, and I thought it would fit the room." He sat down on the edge of his bed, trying to stay as close to the truth as possible. "I always saw him sitting at our table, mocking and threatening, stealing father's wand. He was always there– like a ghost haunting the house."
Narcissa looked thoughtfully at him, then she nodded. "I know what you mean. I felt the same and I'm sure the same goes for your father. Perhaps the change will chase away the ghosts of the past." She rose, her expression grew firm. "But the next time you want to redecorate, please ask us first. Lucius thinks that it was I who performed the transfiguration, and I didn't bother to correct him, because I do think you are already in enough trouble regarding that silly trip to London and what came of it. But please share your intentions concerning the house with your father or me." She lifted one hand as her son opened his mouth and continued. "I can understand why you did it. I had thought about a rearrangement of the room, too, but I would have liked to have some say. And, one thing more - when you put the portraits to sleep the next time, please lift the spell when you're done. I think your great great uncle will be upset that he was not able to watch the sunrise. You know that he ordered his portrait to be hung at that special spot in the dining room to greet the morning every day."
Draco resisted rolling his eyes and nodded instead. Uncle Carlisle and his sunrises…
Narcissa walked to the door, but stopped before exiting. "And Draco? Be sure you put an illusion charm on your neck. I don't think your father would appreciate to get a proof of just how 'close' you and Miss Granger are working."
Draco's hand flew over the spot. Blood rushed into his face and for just a moment, he was lost for words, stuttered: "A ... a mosquito bite."
Lifting a brow, his mother glared at him. "Really? In December?" She looked pointedly around in the room. "Perhaps I should ask one of the house elves to find the little beast. It must be ancient by now, after two or three months indoors, and certainly easy to find." Her narrowed eyes told him that it would be better if he just kept his mouth shut. Swallowing nervously, he watched his mother leaving, then sighed deeply. Not a good start to the day.
It got no better when he and his guest entered the private salon half an hour later, where his father sat reading the Daily Prophet. He was still wearing his morning robes like his wife, and glanced up at them as they entered. Draco took it as a good sign they felt comfortable enough around Hermione to 'dress down'. But Lucius' expression was tense.
"Good morning," he greeted them, waited for the polite exchange, and cleared his throat. "I regret to inform you that your little trip to London has rocked the boat more than you anticipated." He offered his son the newspaper.
Draco took it and scanned the headlines. And then his jaw dropped. "WHAT?"
Hermione was at his side and now reading over his shoulder. And there it blared off the page: 'New attack on Malfoy Manor – Son lifted wards to protect Head-Partner…' Quickly both read the article, wide-eyed and shocked. Then they stared at each other – not good! – and finally at the parents. Draco blurted, "This is completely nonsense!"
"Ohhhh, I hope the Weasleys don't get the Daily Prophet where they are," Hermione moaned.
Draco frowned. "If the Weasel gets nasty again, I'll send him back to Detention. He's your smallest problem."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, scanned the article again and hissed when saw the signature beneath it. "I knew it. I knew it! Of course, that ... that harpy again!" Two pairs of eyebrows raised at her and she growled: "Rita Skeeter! That awful, nosy, self centred hateful woman! She loves stories like this and twists the facts so badly you don't recognize your own words anymore, let alone the event she writes about!"
Lucius sighed. "I know. I made a statement before Shacklebolt's office, but I don't recognize any of it in the article."
Narcissa watched the young witch. "I remember what Rita Skeeter wrote about you four years ago-"
"It was a complete fabrication! Nothing more!" Hermione growled, her face flushed in anger.
"So … you and Mr. Potter were never … well … a couple?" Narcissa asked, ignoring the pointed glare of her husband and looked curiously at the girl.
Hermione blinked. "Excuse me?"
Mrs. Malfoy gave her a half smile. "Well, all those articles during the Triwizard Tournament about you and Harry Pott-"
"Not a word about them was true," Hermione replied indignantly. "She made it all up because I wouldn't give her an interview about Harry. She made him look like a pathetic teary-eyed orphan. Her questions were far too personal, and when I refused to do an interview with her, she paid me back with that garbage!"
Narcissa lifted a brow. Again she saw that you couldn't get to this girl by pressuring her. She saw her integrity was secure. And, for the first time, she could imagine herself in Hermione's place. "I know what you mean. I suspect I would have shut her up before she knew what hit her."
"Eventually, that's what I did," she shrugged. "I thought I had silenced her, but it seems I will have to remind her to report truthfully about me and my friends!"
Not noticing the bemused glances between the adults, Draco asked, "She wrote a lot of trashy stuff about you, and then, suddenly stopped. What did you do to her?"
"You noticed that?"
"Of course, Kitten." (His father's nose twitched while his mother pursed her lips by hearing this pet-name.) "Give me a little credit here. I know that you and Potter are good friends. I have eyes. I watched your little trio for years. Saying that about you and Potter was rubbish!"
Hermione sighed and lowered her head.
Lucius had unwillingly gotten interested. 'So, Miss Granger-Goody-Two-Shoes managed to gag the gossip reporter and has been successful for four years? That is… interesting.' "What you did to stop Rita Skeeter? I've never known anyone who could shut her up."
She bit her lip and finally answered: "I… learned a secret about her she doesn't want to have published and … well … we both made a deal that she stopped writing about us and I keep my mouth shut." She found herself the focal point of three incredulous gazes. "What?"
It was Lucius, who answered: "I never thought I'd see the day a Gryffindor would blackmail someone to gain an advantage."
Hermione's face flushed even more, and Draco chuckled with a sideward glance at her: "I already told you that you have a lot of Slytherin in you – but you hide it well."
Nearly sticking her tongue out at him again, the young witch huffed and took the newspaper from him, checking the articles. And while Draco now looked over her shoulder, Narcissa exchanged another look with her husband. The girl was impressive. And Narcissa was increasingly convinced that her son saw even more in her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Hermione is WHERE?"
Ron had forgotten to eat, which spoke volumes.
Harry dropped the Daily Prophet to the table and rubbed his scar, a habit now. "She's at Malfoy Manor. Listen:
This reporter's unimpeachable sources have confirmed that the son of the family – Draco Malfoy, also a final-year student at Hogwarts – lifted the wards to allow his Head-partner, whom he visited in London, access to the house. This reporter has discovered that Rabastan Lestrange and his fellows pursued Malfoy minor and the well-known war hero, Hermione Granger, from London to Wiltshire. The resulting combat brought new destruction and injury to the family that was known to be loyal to the Dark Lord. As before, a house elf informed the Aurors and they arrived in time to save the family and their unexpected guest.
In this context, we must ask ourselves: are the attacks of Death Eaters in the Muggle museum – the story very competently reported by the Daily Prophet above – and the pursuit of the young Malfoy and Miss Granger connected?
Additionally, inquiring minds must ask, why was young Malfoy visiting his Head- partner at all? What's going on inside Hogwarts if students from Slytherin-House and Gryffindor-House – whose House enmity is legendary in this country – are suddenly paying each other visits outside of school?
Albus Dumbledore, who still is still regarded as the wisest wizard of our times, always maintained the vision of House unity regarding all the houses of Hogwarts. Now we are wondering if his wish has finally had come true – at least between this year's Head-Students.
Classmates of Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy revealed to this reporter that the two worked together with obvious enjoyment to organize the Christmas ball at Hogwarts and witnessed dancing intimately with each other; and now visiting each other while on holiday, and possibly being a part of the chaos in the Muggle- world. And, as I personally learned from Mr. Lucius Malfoy, Miss Granger will remain as a guest at the family home until the end of the Christmas holiday to ensure the safety of her and her parents – address unknown.
We must ask ourselves if our heroine, Miss Granger, has now changed sides, turning her loyalty towards a young former Death Eater, whose family followed the Dark Lord for decades? Is it the temptation of the forbidden, or something more?
Rita Skeeter.
The entire room was staring at Harry as he finished the account. Ginny spoke up first. "That sensationalist gossiping hag! She has to put her nose in everyone's business and drag it into the dirt! Draco and his family are protecting Hermione. She should write about why it was necessary for the Malfoys to help Hermione instead of looking for double meanings!"
Harry dropped the paper and glanced at her. His expression gave nothing away, but Ginevra knew her boy friend well enough. Harry sensed what was happening, and realized that Rita Skeeter was probably seeing the truth this time without seeing it.
Ron gulped down his tea, leaned over the table and tore the newspaper from his friend's hand, almost knocking over the teapot. With reddening cheeks he read the article again, biting his lips. Harry was certain he would see steam coming out of his ears.
Arthur reached for the marmalade. "If I understand her correctly, then the attack on Muggle London reported yesterday had something to do with our Hermione and the young Malfoy." He hesitated. "What were they doing together in Muggle London?"
Harry had a very good idea: she and Draco were at the Museum. Rita Skeeter was right, the two had been at the British Museum and Lestrange had attacked there. And he knew why Hermione and Malfoy had visited the exhibits: they were tracking the 'Egyptian riddle'. He had no clue how Lestrange found them there, but was certain Malfoy had taken Hermione with him to his home. It was there that all of them had fought off the Death Eaters and Hermione was now with him. And Harry had some firm suspicions as to what the two students were doing in Malfoy Manor.
Ron seemed to share his opinion, throwing the newspaper beside his plate and crossing his arms.
Fleur lifted a brow. "At least she is safe," she said softly, and Bill nodded.
"Yeah, old Lucius will be on his best behaviour. He and his family are still under observation."
"Maybe he sees a chance to prove he is rehabilitated, if he helps Hermione now," Arthur nodded. He pointed at the newspaper. "She made the right decision, not returning to her parents. Knowing the Death Eaters, they would have followed her, and the Grangers would be history now."
"Do you trust Malfoy?" George asked.
His father made a thoughtful pause, then shook his head. "No, not Lucius. I know him too well. Yes, he has probably discovered that he can't stay true to his old ways anymore and maybe – just maybe! – the war and Voldemort's visits at the manor have taught him something, but this man is calculating to his bones. If he welcomes Hermione – a Muggle-born and best friend of Harry and Ron – in his home, then he does it with ulterior motives. He is a very practical man." He caught curious glances and explained: "How do you think the wizarding world will take the news that Lucius Malfoy is giving shelter to a Muggle-born whose parents are in danger from Death Eaters? It will certainly raise his reputation."
"Yeah, and the Ferret can wind his web around her mind even more," Ron growled.
His mother blinked. "What do you mean, Ronald?"
His angry eyes found hers. Ginny groaned and Harry sighed. "What do I mean?" His voice rose slightly. "I mean that that slimy git is seducing her, pretending to be the hero now by standing up for her and flattering her."
Molly frowned. "Ronald, I think we've heard enough about that subject. You already overdid it back in Hogwarts and-"
"You didn't see 'em, Mum," he interrupted her. "During the Christmas feast! They barely left each other's side, dancing and flirting with each other. Or the way they slow danced during lessons. I swear, any closer, and they would have made love on the dance floor."
"Mon Dieu!" Fleur rolled her eyes. "W'at a sin: dancing with the 'ead partner!"
Arthur refilled his teacup. "Hermione and the young Malfoy – together? Nonsense, Ron!"
"You haven't seen them, Dad. They-"
"Ronald Weasley, if you continue to spread gossip and lies about her, you can't blame her if she turns away from you," Molly snapped.
"But Mom -"
"If the young Malfoy really is trying to win her, then you can't hold onto her by playing the pouting little boy or by screaming at her like a lunatic, but by being better than he is. A woman has to be won with romance, trust and love, and not with yelling, accusations and sulking," Mrs. Weasley snapped, then she shook her head. "Really, Ron, you still have to learn a lot about women, it seems!"
"I'm more interested in why Hermione and Malfoy were in London at the museum. Did she tell you about her plans before you left Hogwarts?" Arthur attempted to change the subject before a full-blown argument ensued.
Harry shrugged; knowing that he had to be careful now. "She told us that there is a large exhibit from Egypt in the British Museum, and she really wanted to see it because of our guests."
Arthur's interest was piqued. "So… Muggles have information about ancient Egypt, too?"
Harry nodded. "Yes. They deciphered the hieroglyphs and found many, many artefacts in the old tombs. I can imagine that Hermione was investigating them."
"But why invite Malfoy?" Fleur asked, folding her napkin.
Harry groaned, wishing she hadn't brought him up again. He took a deep breath. "I don't know. Maybe they met there by accident, or Draco wanted to go, too and arranged with Hermione to meet him there. Don't forget, he was raised without any contact with Muggles. If he tried to visit the museum alone he would be lost."
"But why should he want to learn about it at all? – thanks, Mom." Bill took the plate of bacon his mother offered him.
"He is the Head-Boy this year and responsible for our guests, like Hermione is," Ginny answered. "Perhaps he thought he could get some background for them. He and Hermione have teamed up because of their duty – and they do a really good job as senior students this year!"
"Yeah, they make a really 'good team'," Ron growled and his two brothers sighed as they saw the snow his magic was fluttering down on him, revealing his bad mood.
Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ginny; he knew that something was going on with Hermione and Draco. Something that was connected with the strange events in and around Hogwarts. And he could only bide his time until he could learn firsthand from the Head-Girl why she and Malfoy really had been in the British Museum and what they discovered…
TBC…
Well, it was clear that the rest of the Golden Trio and the Weasleys would learn about Hermione's whereabouts, wasn't it? And that our sweet bookworm is slowly but steadily succeeding to make the Malfoys see more in her than 'only' a Muggle-born was something I loved to write – exactly like the scene when Narcissa discovers the re-decoration. Just imagine the shock you would go through by developing that your dining-room is completely changed within one night (love, it would spare a lot of work, if we could do such magic).
In the next chapter our two Head-Students are going to do some exploring and will stumble over something that was lost to the whole world. Humor, excitement and thrilling moments are laying ahead, so you can look forward to the next installment.
I would love to get some more reviews, so please, please leave some comments.
Once again: Have a beautiful 1. Advent,
love from Germany,
yours Lyhwn!
