Chapter 16 - Letters

Hermione took a deep breath before knocking on Malfoy's door in the darkness of the Slytherin dungeons with her patronus at her side. Her attempt to cast Lumos did nothing against whatever magic prevented her from seeing in that hallway, but her silver otter was quite visible and allowed Hermione to see well enough. It certainly was better than stumbling around in the dark in between stumbling into random rooms as she had done last time. Thankfully, she hadn't encountered anything too disturbing in the process.

Malfoy opened his door a crack, glanced at her, and opened it the rest of the way to let her in. "You have them?" he asked. He studied her patronus as she walked in and dismissed it.

Hermione nodded and patted her bag, which contained her notes from the year in addition to the fireworks. She had returned the books to Malfoy earlier, and the Marauder's map was safely back in her dresser within her room. "I was thinking it might be good if we wrote actual letters to each other on fresh parchment and exchanged them. Then we could transfigure the old notes to match." She held her hands together to still them. She did think this was the best plan, but a part of her wondered if this might also be an opportunity to cross the line from co-conspirators into friendship.

Malfoy grimaced. "I suppose they would look more natural that way." He moaned and dragged his hands down his face in his dismay, and while Hermione was slightly injured that he so strongly disliked the idea of writing her, she couldn't help but smile at how relaxed he had become with her. He would have never let himself appear so uncollected around her prior to the curse.

"I'm glad you agree," Hermione said. She bit her lip. "Now, who should go first?" she asked him.

Malfoy scoffed and put his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the door. "Come on, Granger, which of us do you think would be more likely to reach out to the other?"

Hermione sighed and moved to set her bag down beside his desk while she thought. "Neither of us are exactly the type to reach out without a reason, so the better question would be why would one of us reach out? Perhaps you needed my help with schoolwork?" she suggested.

Malfoy snorted. "I may not be as swotty as you, Hermione, but I'm perfectly capable of holding my own. Besides, if I needed to talk to a swot, I'd reach out to Theodore Nott. He and I may be on uneasy terms now, but he's too smart to pass up the chance of having me owe him a favor. Far better that than risk embarrassing myself with your refusal."

Hermione almost contested the suggestion that she would refuse to help him, but then she recalled how she had felt towards Malfoy even a few days ago. Would she have helped him? She was ashamed to realize she wasn't sure that she would, though normally she helped anyone who asked. "Right, then what would be worth that risk?" Hermione asked him. She stepped closer, crossed her arms, and stared up at him. He had his usual indolent expression on his face, but it did not annoy her like it had in the past. Now, he just seemed tired to her, and she felt bad for him.

Malfoy pursed his lips and looked up as he thought. When his intense eyes settled back on her, Hermione felt warm, as if his very stare generated heat within her. "Protecting my family. Had Potter not already defended my mother to the Wizengamot for her actions in the war, I may well have reached out, but even then, I would have contacted Potter, not yourself. In terms of influence, his voice carries more weight."

"So I would need a reason to contact you," Hermione said. She looked away from him to help clear her head as she thought. The warmth she felt was unexpected, but not very surprising, given that she had started thinking of him more as a friend than as an adversary. She paused, took a deep breath, and shook her head briefly to refocus. She looked back to him. "If I had seen you bullied, I would have intervened."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Intervened, yes, but not written afterwards. I would also rather not draw more attention to the fact that I'm being targeted at school, Granger. It doesn't exactly help my image."

Hermione opened her mouth to object a moment before she remembered how much pride mattered to the Malfoys. Public sympathy was not worth being looked down upon, apparently. Hermione supposed she couldn't completely argue that. After all, she wore a charm to hide the word "mudblood" still carved into her arm. "Then what? It's not like I would ask for your money or your influence for anything," she pointed out.

"No," Malfoy said carefully and smirked at her. "But, I do have books."

"You have books?" Hermione said skeptically. "So do the library and the bookstore."

Malfoy raised his left eyebrow and stepped away from the door, uncrossing his arms in the process. "Come on, Granger. Surely with all the reading you do, you've heard of my family's private library. It's one of the best kept collections of the wizarding world."

Hermione quirked her mouth down, feeling her old antagonism towards Malfoy rise up as she recalled what sorts of things she expected the Malfoy family to value. "I'm not particularly interested in books on dark magic, Malfoy," Hermione pointed out with a stony expression.

Malfoy scowled. "There's a lot more to my family than dark magic, Granger. I won't deny that we have quite a collection of books on that topic. However, we have books on all sorts of things, including the personal journals of several famous wizards and witches."

That got Hermione's attention. "Like who?" she asked, stepping closer in her interest. Malfoy smirked, and Hermione realized he had made his point. There would be no backing out of this now. Hermione took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay, Malfoy. You're right. I might reach out to you for books I could get no other way." Hermione pursed her lips. "But which books?"

Malfoy shrugged, put his hands in his pockets, and tilted his head to the side. "Doesn't matter which books. Anything should do, so long as you can't easily find it elsewhere. Just pick something obscure you would read, claim you heard I have a copy, and write out a request for it. That's how you want to start this, right? With one of us reaching out to the other? Well, go on," he said, taking out a hand to gesture to his desk.

Hermione frowned at him, frustrated that he had so neatly come up with a solution that required her wanting something from him after making it painstakingly clear she had nothing to offer him. It hurt her pride, and it made her feel that much more pathetic for wishing they could be friends. "Right," she finally said, shoving her hurt and frustration aside to deal with the task at hand. She needed to do what she could to clear the suspicion on Malfoy. Her reasons may have shifted, somewhat, but not her objective.

Hermione sat down at the desk, pulled out the necessary parchment and quill, set the quill to the parchment, and froze. How did she address him? Hermione chewed her lip and realized she was overthinking this. She should address him the same way she did in person.

Malfoy,

I understand your family library contains many books that cannot be found elsewhere. I am interested in learning more about how house-elves became servants of the wizarding community, and I wondered if you might help me in the matter.

Hermione paused there. The house-elf idea had come easily enough. She had been looking for such records at one point and been unable to find them. However, the note seemed off without some kind of acknowledgement of her history with Malfoy. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her head in her hands.

"What is it?" Malfoy asked, walking over to read what she had written.

"You wouldn't have bothered responding to this," Hermione groaned.

"Interesting, Granger. Last I checked, I was the one who decided what I would and would not do," Malfoy drawled. He picked the parchment up, scanned over it again, and looked to her. "It's passable. I'll respond."

Hermione peered up at him with wide eyes. "What?"

He frowned at her and waved the paper at her. "It's passable. I'll respond. However, I'll need my desk to respond, so unless you expect me to sit in your lap, you'll need to move."

Hermione lurched out of the chair so quickly she toppled to the ground with it. When she found herself awkwardly sprawled on the floor, she wondered why she had such a strong reaction to what was certainly said in jest. "Sorry," she mumbled with red cheeks as she scrambled to set the chair straight and stand up. She risked a glance at Malfoy and found him staring at her slack-jawed. The eye contact jarred him though, and he straightened up with a sneer.

"Seriously, Granger?" Malfoy said and crossed his arms in front of him. "I was joking. It's not like I want to touch you. You certainly don't have to hurt yourself and my furniture to escape me."

"Right," Hermione said, blushing more fiercely now and feeling fully mortified. She backed up against the wall and tried not to watch Malfoy write. Her heart pounded in her chest with anxiety. Even knowing this letter-exchange was a farce and it was in his best interests to respond favorably, she was afraid he would shoot her down or mock her as he had in the past.

"Done," he said after a moment.

Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. "Already? But…"

Draco raised an eyebrow at her and stood up, pulling out the chair for her. "Relax, Granger. Just read and respond."

Hermione nodded and sat down, noting with surprise that Malfoy pushed it in for her. She looked down at the message Malfoy had left her.

What's in it for me? - D.M.

Hermione blinked. Stared at it, and blinked again, shaking her head. "What's in it for…"

"You can do this, Granger," Malfoy said. He was stretched out on his bed now, tossing a replica snitch in the air and catching it. Granger's mouth twisted with frustration that he could be so at ease, but then she saw his jaw twitch, and she saw how tense he was underneath the relaxed activity.

"Of course. How do you think I should respond?" she asked him, hoping for some guidance on the matter. Her impulse was to chew him out for needing a motivation to help her and a marginalized species out, but she didn't expect that would have gone over well in reality.

Malfoy glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the snitch. "Just be yourself."

Hermione took a deep breath and faced the blank parchment again. "Alright then." She squeezed her eyes shut and thought about how she might have reacted. Indignant and frustrated. "I can do this," she said. She heard a murmured agreement of support from behind her and smiled at how preposterous her situation was now. To imagine that Malfoy would be encouraging her in, well, anything.

Hermione wrote.

Seriously, Malfoy? Must everything have a price? You know I would return any books you loan me in perfect condition. Unless you simply object to my helping house-elves, you have no reason to stop me. - H.G.

She looked over it and sighed. "Your turn," she said simply and stood up. Malfoy rolled off the bed without a word, passed her the replica snitch, whose wings flapped without making it fly, and sat down at the desk. Hermione stared at the snitch in her hands with some confusion.

"Toss it. It helps pass the time," he said after he got in position to write.

Hermione's entire forehead lifted in surprise at the small gesture. "Er, thanks," she said, and experimentally tossed it a few inches and caught it. She had never done much with sports or any physical activity, really, beyond what was demanded to survive during the war. It was strange, playing with the snitch. It felt unnatural, but she was so shocked and thankful that Malfoy had thought of her comfort at all that she didn't want to turn her nose up at the suggestion by refusing to do it.

"Done," he said, getting up again. He stood up, held out a hand for the snitch, which she passed to him, and then pushed in her chair again for her as she sat.

Actually, I do have some objections to your notion of helping house-elves. I'm well aware that the Hogwarts elves live in horror of you. However, I suppose helping you learn that their enslavement was on their terms and for their protection may spare the poor creatures from your continued misguided good intentions. - D.M.

"You can't possibly expect me to believe that they asked for enslavement," Hermione said, looking back at Malfoy, who sat on the edge of the bed studying the snitch.

"I have the books back at the Manor," Malfoy said. "Unfortunately, I cannot easily provide them or the time to read them tonight, so you will have to trust me about their contents."

Hermione frowned. "Why would you have read them?"

He looked up at her, paralyzing her with his silver eyes. "I looked up a great many things when I came to regret my part in the war. Wizards were culpable of many horrific crimes against other species, Granger. The house-elves, however, came to us willingly. Their immense power and servile natures made them the victims of many. I don't care to go into a full discussion on the issue this moment, Granger, but they asked for the oldest of the wizarding families to enslave them. In exchange for giving up their freedom, the wizards would swear to keep them in obscurity and together, so that the house-elves could live peaceful lives with their families intact." He paused a moment as Hermione took this in. "There's a reason you've never seen house-elves used in the wizarding wars, despite the ancient families having power over most of the house-elves. That was part of the agreement."

"But Dobby participated…"

"Dobby was a freed elf," Malfoy reminded her. He shuddered. "Imagine if all elves were able to break through wards like that whenever they wished to do what they wanted. No one would be safe, Granger, and the elves would be faced with awful responsibilities. The elves prefer things this way. They want to be forgotten and enslaved. Trust me."

Hermione trembled as she considered this angle. She felt like her entire foundation was crumbling as she realized she couldn't argue this. If they sought enslavement and obscurity specifically to avoid being targeted for even worse things… "I've been fighting for their rights for years, Malfoy," Hermione said in a shaky voice.

"I know, Granger," he said in a tired voice.

"It shouldn't be this way. They shouldn't have to live in fear of their power…"

"I know, Granger."

"It's not right, Malfoy!" Hermione complained.

"Write it out, Granger. That's the point of this exercise… to establish a correspondence in the past. Write it out like you would if you had read the book and needed to tell someone who knew the truth, even someone you found as detestable as myself."

Hermione swallowed her objections as she remembered why they were even discussing the house-elf rights in the first place. "Right, you're right," she said, but then frowned, tilting her head as she looked up at him. "You're not detestable though."

Malfoy scowled at her. "False flattery doesn't become you, Granger."

"It's not false, Malfoy," Hermione hissed. When he gave her an affronted expression, she sighed, letting go of her pride. She avoided his eyes and fiddled with the pleats of her skirt. "I did think you were pretty awful before all this happened, but you've been kind. At least, kinder than I would have expected." She faced him. "You're not bad."

Malfoy sneered at her for a moment, then looked away and scoffed. "I've bullied you into deceiving your friends about our relationship just to save my own skin. How is that kind?"

Hermione shrugged. She couldn't exactly tell Malfoy that she was far more furious with Ginny for being so closed-minded about the possibility of Malfoy changing. If Malfoy were still the old Malfoy, then convincing her friends she felt something for him would be genuinely horrifying, but as is? Well, Hermione did enjoy his company, strangely enough. He had been more understanding and thoughtful in their brief time working together than Harry and Ron usually were. Malfoy was still a prat in many ways, but her pride stung far more from his utter lack of interest in her than from having others perceive her interested in him.

"You're not bad, Malfoy," Hermione repeated in a defeated tone, and she got to work on her next letter to him.

Merry Christmas! :D You'll still get a chapter on Friday this week too. :)

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