DISCLAIMER: the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.
WARNINGS: pureblood!Hermione, OOC, rated M for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; modern.
This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: godisawitchfic dot tumblr dot com. You can also find me as slytherinsauce on both tumblr and pinterest with more content dedicated to this story. Beware of spoilers.
Author's notes: Happy New Year! Another chapter is out of the way and there will be four more before the end of the second part of the story, which will be followed by another interlude. I'm very excited for what comes next and I can't wait for you guys to read it. I hope you don't hate me too much over the first half of this chapter, it's just me giving my personal spin to a trope I never liked. I don't why in FFs, when something seems to be going awry with her relationships, Hermione generally spirals down and starts deprecating herself over her perceived failures or the feeling of "not being enough". That's not the Hermione I imagined. She may be insecure at times, but she's not Moaning Myrtle, is she?
Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy the chapter and spare me two minutes of your time to post a review and let me know what you think! Your comments really make my days. :)) Also, I turned 24 two days ago, so I'm officially older than my main characters ahah!
p.s. I have a new poll in my bio!
p.p.s. I totally recommend you check out the song that titles this chapter! It's by Missy Elliott and it's great!
34.
THROW IT BACK
.
"flip it and reverse it, stupid with the verses,
man, I got the coat and shoes just to match the purses
I don't need rehearsing,
the way I throw it back
I show the whole crowd how I work it"
(Astoria's apartment – Diagon Alley, London, England;
October 25th, 2003, around 11:15 p.m.)
The witch stared at the flames, a blanket around her shoulders and a glass of wine in one hand.
She'd barely had one with Draco, who hadn't been feeling particularly up to drinking that night, but right now she was determined to drink every last sip before finally calling it a day.
Astoria couldn't believe she'd embarrassed herself in such a way.
She'd looked like a fool, and she had no idea how she was going to look Draco in the eyes ever again.
If there had been a chance they could rekindle the old relationship they'd had in Hogwarts it was gone. It had to be.
The woman didn't know what she'd been thinking.
To battle her eyelashes and try to kiss him.
The noise outside her window averted her from her thoughts.
Living in Diagon Alley had its perks, like being at a walking distance from St. Mungo's and near the Mason, while also close to pretty much everything a young witch of her age could possibly need.
A couple seemed to be arguing on the streets, and from the sound of it she wasn't sure they were going to be together for much longer.
"Sometimes you're such a bitch, Karen!"
There was a thud, followed by a silence that was promptly broken by a vibration of her phone.
It was a message from her sister, who wondered if she was still awake and up for a call.
She was promising juicy gossip, but Astoria knew it was an excuse to check on her.
Daphne had been the first person she'd told about the appearance of her biological father.
She was trying to be as positive as she could about the situation - it wasn't that man's fault, he'd been just another one of her mother's pawns -, but deep down she wasn't sure what to think of it.
It sucked enough to know the man who'd raised her wasn't the one who'd fathered her.
Astoria hadn't been ready to actually meet the guy, and she was still refraining from telling Euriphides. So far he'd been his splendid and loving usual self about the whole ordeal, but she still feared how he could react to this new piece of information.
She pressed the call button on Daphne's contact-page.
"Hey, sister", she saluted. "How was your night out?"
"Nothing too intense. I went out for a couple of drinks with Tracey, but since she's pregnant I switched to Pumpkin Juice very soon. It's sad to be the only drunk person at the table", the other replied. "How was yours?"
Astoria finished her wine in one sip and poured herself another glass.
Her sight was becoming fuzzy, but she didn't care.
"Nothing too intense", she repeated. "You know what was? The hospital this morning".
Daphne laughed. "You know how I feel about that, Tori".
Her sister firmly believed her talent - whatever she meant with that - was wasted at St. Mungo's, especially since they seemed keen to keep her as low in the hierarchy as they could, and she often suggested she'd just work full time with her in the family business.
Only recently had Astoria started considering the idea.
"Let's talk about something else. Today just might be day you convince me to leave my job".
"That's actually nice to hear", Daphne quipped. "Seriously, Tori. It's time we have a serious talk about this".
"Not tonight, Daph", the other said, and it sounded very final. From the other side of the line came only a sigh.
Astoria tried to lighten up the mood a little.
"Didn't you call me because you had something to tell me?"
"Oh, yes. Right!", Daphne welcomed her attempt at moving on. "At first I wasn't really sure I was going to tell you, but it's been like, what? Seven years? Anyway, Tracey was told by Gregory who was told by Zabini who actually has firsthand experience of the matter at hand..."
Astoria didn't like where this was going.
"It appears Draco and our cousin are an item now".
Fuck.
"Can you believe it? It's such an odd pair if you think of how they used to be in school".
"It's not so odd if you think of how they are now", Astoria disagreed.
It actually made perfect sense.
She only wished she'd known this when she'd tried to kiss Draco.
The witch needed to re-order her thoughts, but that wasn't going to happen until her sister kept chattering about what a perfect magazine-cover couple they made.
"I'm gonna go now", she announced. "I was thinking I could come to have lunch with you and dad tomorrow if that's fine with you".
"You don't have to ask permission to come to your own house, Tori", Daphne reprimanded her. "You're still a Greengrass, whether you like it or not".
"I hate that the only parent I'm actually related to is Idabelle", she snorted. "Goodnight, Daph. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well".
Astoria didn't wait for a reply.
Dropping the phone on one side, she grabbed her head between her hands.
How was she going to fix this?
How could she explain to Hermione that the man she was dating had been her first love, back when he hadn't been this refined version of himself, and that she'd felt lonely lately and thought perhaps she could try?
Originally she'd invited him because she needed someone that wasn't part of her family to talk about Xavier Selwyn with, but then they'd started joking, and laughing, and having a nice time. She'd felt just like she had back in the day, when they would spend their Sundays making out in the Slytherin common room, and acting on her instinct she'd leaned in and brushed her lips on his.
Astoria wouldn't have done it if she'd known Draco was seeing someone.
It wasn't as if he had returned the kiss, considering he'd pushed her away the moment he'd realized what she was doing and then very hastily told her nothing was going to happen between them, so at least she wasn't an accomplice in cheating.
Just a very sad, very lonely, very stupid girl.
She hoped she could count on Malfoy being discreet on the matter.
Unfortunately, the only thing she could bring herself to care about in this moment, was to stop by the bathroom before jumping into her bed.
The fucking wine had given her a headache.
(Nott Manor: breakfast table – somewhere in Devon, England;
October 26th, 2003, around 09:00 a.m.)
The first thing Theodore did every morning was drinking way too much coffee with way too much sugar, and read the Daily Prophet.
The journalistic level of the paper had dropped visibly over the past decade, but it was a habit he'd picked up when his mother was still alive, and he'd kept it even though it had been born out of imitating his father to get his praise.
The stupid things he'd done as a child.
This morning of October the big issue of the Prophet was Kingsley's political moves since the beginning of his second term, but Theo skimmed the rest of the page for good measure.
Next to the results of the last couple days of Quidditch games and underneath the recipe for Gullible Wrinkles was written in bold the name of his best friend.
*Draco & Astoria! Split... and together again! by ***Rita Skeeter, read at page 6.
"Many of my dear readers already know the young Mr. Malfoy (23) for his past misdeeds as a follower of You-Know-Who or the recent (failed) attempt on his life. Perhaps you're just interested in the mystery of his half-muggle daughter, but what I've got for you today has to do with nothing of that.
Today we talk about the dating life of Death Eaters. Unluckily for us, it doesn't seem to be eventful.
Draco Malfoy dated Ms. Greengrass (21) from his fourth to his sixth year at Hogwarts, when he allegedly broke up with the poor girl as he worked on his assignment from the Dark Lord: plotting the death of his Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
Many years have passed since then, and after getting himself a child from an unknown woman, it seems as if the heir of House Malfoy has fallen back into his ex girlfriend's arms.
However, it is too soon to tell if the flame is destined to burn much longer. The two also haven't made their first public appearance as a couple, yet, but I expect we'll hear about them again very soon.
Astoria really seems to be the perfect match for Mr. Malfoy, though someone might say he's perhaps a bit too lucky. Young, accomplished, beautiful, the woman is currently training at St. Mungo's to become a Healer. Perhaps her selfless tendencies will balance Draco's darker ones?"
And with that was a moving picture of just a couple of frames of his cousin placing her lips on Draco's.
Theo blinked at the Prophet and read the article again.
He couldn't believe such an amount of bullshit could have been printed on such a restricted area.
A waste of paper, in any case.
The wizard picked up his phone and looked for Draco's name in his chats.
09:07 a.m.
To: Draco
"WTF, Draco? Read the bloody Prophet."
Theodore was pretty sure nothing was really going on between his friend and Astoria, but he needed to hear it from him before he could be totally convinced.
There was a chance, although very small, that his sister could be hurt by that article.
What if it was true?
What was he going to say to Hermione after he'd promised her Draco was trustworthy?
Then he remembered who the source was, and he felt a bit more relaxed. Rita Skeeter was famous for making up lies just to sell more copies.
But it wasn't only the woman's writing. There was a picture, too, and that could be interpreted in just one way: something had happened.
He just needed to find out what exactly.
Hermione's voice startled him.
"Good morning, Theo. How come you're brooding so early in the morning?"
She'd spent the night at the Manor because the two of them had been up until late reading their father's journals, but he hadn't expected her to come down so early for breakfast. She usually woke up extremely late when she didn't have to work.
"How come you're not still in bed?", he retorted. "Good morning to you, Hermione".
The witch took a seat in front of him, helping herself with some tea and biscuits.
She snuck out her tongue at him. "I've got some errands to run".
Theodore nodded and the conversation paused.
As he sipped his eyes kept falling on the copy of the Prophet half-hidden beneath his arm, where he'd casually placed it when Hermione had arrived.
She eventually noticed.
"What are you reading?", the witch asked.
"Quidditch results on the Prophet", he muttered.
"Mh, I see. Mind if I check them for myself?"
Theo paled, but gave her the paper anyway.
There was no point in delaying this. The sooner it started the sooner it ended.
He just had to hope it didn't end in tragedy.
The sound of cutlery falling on the porcelain of the dish felt worse than nails on a blackboard.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?"
Hermione produced more noise than it was actually necessary as she raised from her seat barely two minutes after her arrival.
"Where are you going?", Theodore asked her.
She was already at the door when she answered. "Don't worry. I'm just going to kick her ass".
Splendid - he thought, curious to know whom exactly she was referring to by "her".
Rita or Astoria?
This problem had to wait. In less than a hour Theo had to be at the Ministry to file his official request for the Nott family's Wizengamot seat.
About that, he was excited.
(The Daily Prophet Headquarters – Diagon Alley, London, England;
October 26th, 2003, around 09:20 a.m.)
The building that housed the infamous and dishonest paper she hated with a passion was nothing impressive, but quite menacing.
It was a single grey block with very little ornaments, rebuilt from the ashes of the old office.
Barely five years after the fire who'd erased it the first time, The Daily Prophet's facade already needed a touch up, though Hermione really couldn't tell if its state was due to the city's merciless weather or to the shortage of money the Ministry had been suffering since the end of the war.
The agreement between the paper and the government had been signed shortly after The Battle of Hogwarts to prevent situations like Harry's fifth year to arise again, but so far she thought of it as a failed attempt.
They were still printing theories rather than facts, prying into matters that weren't their concern and feeding lies to their readers about whatever scapegoat they hated at the moment. It was even worse, now, as the control over it the Ministry was clearly forgetting to put into action made it look as if it endorsed whatever stupid thing they decided to write.
She realized the Minister had more pressing issues to deal with, but surely he couldn't have not noticed what was going on ever since Rita Skeeter had returned to the Prophet. It was below him not to realize what kind of influence the press had on the public opinion, so there had to be something else.
It was why she'd refused to meet him with him privately ever since her return. The wizard had invited her many times to come to his office, or even to his house, to catch up over some tea, but Hermione was dead set on avoiding the man she'd thought of as a mentor until he started fixing the mess wizarding Britain had become and undid some of the injustices he'd allowed the Wizengamot to pass over the last years.
She could have gone to the Ministry this very morning and discussed her current problem with him, but instead she'd opted for tackling the issue at its very root.
It was unfortunate the two apes at the main entrance were refusing to let her in.
"We cannot let you in without written permission from the editor, Ms. Granger", the taller guard repeated for the umpteenth time, making her feel as if she was back in Hogwarts and walking the hallways way past her curfew. "Step back, now. Please".
There wasn't an Auror badge on their uniforms, but a bow was woven into a circular background in twin patches on the black fabric that covered their elbows.
The Prophet had hired private security. She made a mental note to ask Harry about the symbol they'd sported as soon as she got the chance, then shot daggers at them with her eyes before she finally walked down the steps that from the main entrance brought her into the buzzing Diagon Alley once more.
Not the type to brag, in her humblest opinion WizVille topped the historical venue.
The wizarding neighborhood she'd personally designed had nothing to do with crumbling buildings, and it was an ode to the finest muggle art and architecture, a work of rational design she'd spent a lot of time on with the help of only the best magical constructors in the world.
As much as she enjoyed Diagon Alley, now that she'd grown out of her childish enchantment for magic and begun to think of it as just her nature, it was difficult for Hermione not to be painfully aware of its many flaws.
For starters, too many small lanes and courts flowed into it, providing many strategic escape routes to any witch or wizard whose intentions were not of the best kind. The shops were small, the buildings were probably not equipped to face fires and honestly it didn't surprise her it had been one of the Death Eaters' favourite places to attack.
It was so fucking easy.
As Hermione was reaching the bottom of the stairs, the noise of steps behind her distracted her from her musing, and instinctively she turned around, jaw dropping when met by a familiar face.
"Good morning, Professor", was the only thing she managed to say.
Technically Minerva McGonagall was Headmistress now, but Hermione still thought of her as her favourite teacher.
The older witch was wearing her distinctive plum autumn robes and had her long, grey hair tied up in a tight chignon.
She was just like she remembered her, and that applied to her smile, too.
"What an unexpected and welcome surprise, Ms. Granger", Minerva greeted. "Or should I call you Ms. Nott, now, perhaps?"
Her cheeks flushed a little. The witch's habit to go straight to the point hadn't disappeared either.
"Hermione will be fine", she suggested, although sheepishly. "For now. I'm afraid I'm currently in between names".
The Headmistress quirked an eyebrow, showing interest. "Perhaps something you'd like to discuss over a cup of tea?"
The brunette looked at the watch on her wrist before she nodded her consent.
"That would be lovely", she said. "I know a place not far from here that serves excellent pastries".
McGonagall tilted her head on one side, as if pensive.
"What about having tea in my office at Hogwarts?", was her counter-offer.
A grin spread spontaneously on the witch's face.
And so to Hogwarts they went.
(Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland;
October 26th, 2003, around 09:20 a.m.)
The two witches floo-ed directly into the Headmistress' office from the Leaky Cauldron, but that didn't stop Hermione from rushing to the nearest window as soon as she was out of the fireplace.
Just as she'd suspected, the sight of the castle was extremely beneficial, even from the inside, and for a moment she forgot about everything that wasn't it.
Memories came rushing back, and for an abundant five minutes she stood there and admired the view, replaying in her mind the best and worst experiences of some of the most intriguing, despite everything, years of her life.
Back when she'd been so innocent about what kind of hustle life really was.
McGonagall cleared her throat.
"Please, take a seat", she invited her, albeit a bit awkwardly.
"Oh. Of course". She rushed to the chair in front of the desk.
Normally she wouldn't sit with her back facing a door, and therefore threats, but she couldn't possibly ask the Headmistress to give up her seat in her own office, could she?
She tried to distract herself by roaming the door with her eyes as the other witch produced a pot and two glasses and started pouring tea for both of them.
Minerva McGonagall seemed to like doing it with her hands rather than her wand.
She found it sweet for some reason.
Once they were both sipping from identical porcelain cups, the Headmistress eventually decided it was time they talked.
Her silence up until now had not surprised her. Hermione knew the older witch hated small-talk, and couldn't really disagree. She didn't enjoy it either.
"It was bizarre to meet you in front of the Prophet", she prompted. "Were you there to protest the rubbish they label as journalism as well, dear?"
The brunette laughed at that. "Well, yes. They're getting ridiculous and they're getting away with it".
"This morning they printed the names and faces of some of my students", Minerva shared. "They committed a crime and they will be punished accordingly. I managed to convince Kingsley to take the educational approach and let them serve their sentence here at Hogwarts, keep this thing away from the spotlight. Now the board wants them in Azkaban".
Hermione was flabbergasted. She could sense her interlocutor thought of the whole ordeal as unfair, but she needed more information before she could form her own opinion.
"What kind of crime have they committed?"
If she didn't know better, she could have sworn the Headmistress was blushing.
McGonagall took a generous sip from her tea. "Some of the students had a sort of Pepper Up racket going on. It appears teenagers are getting high on that, nowadays. They started by selling the potions to other students, even the first years. Apparently it's been going on since the summer and they did their deliveries by owl, but things got tricky when the term started".
"How did you find out?"
"Ingredients started disappearing from the greenhouses and Professor Longbottom noticed. Wise boy, that one. He came directly to me", she answered. "Then I asked Horace if perhaps something similar was happening in the dungeons, and he admitted he'd been finding himself misplacing stuff way too often lately to pin it on his age".
Hermione was actually sorry for the students caught up in the Pepper Up mess, which in turn made her feel extremely weird: the girl she'd been would have been appalled, but the woman she was just thought of the ordeal as something vaguely amusing.
It was obviously very wrong to steal from the school, produce illegal potions and sell them as drugs, especially to the younger students, but still it wasn't something worth of Azkaban.
They were just misguided kids.
"I can only assume you were there to protest", the witch said. "May I ask how you managed to get inside the building?"
The Headmistress chuckled. "It wasn't easy. But a permission from the Minister seems to be enough to overrule that of a chief editor. It was pointless, though. The editor wasn't there, so I just gave to their secretary the complaint I presented to the Wizengamot this morning".
Hermione nodded, impressed.
Now more than ever she remembered why she'd been so fond of the Transfiguration teacher.
Perhaps it was time she had that meeting with Kingsley, after all.
"I won't let those sorry excuses for writers to ruin the lives of my students before they even begin".
Hermione had an awkward five minutes while trying to explain why she had wanted to go into the Prophet. She mumbled something about the Prophet dragging dirt on her brother and herself all summer, and from there they shifted topics.
"So, speaking of your brother", Minerva started. "I was rather surprised when you made your announcement over the summer. It must have been quite traumatic to discover you are the daughter of a convicted Death Eater".
"Traumatic might just be the perfect way to call it", she conceded. "When I returned their memories to my parents after the war, the spell that Cantankerus Nott placed on them came undone as well. They cut all ties with me after that. Then I woke up one morning and my eyes were blue. Five years later I discover I have a brother, someone I went to school with but who used to hang out with the people who bullied me. It's been a lot to take in, but I'm managing".
She added a smile.
It was the truth: as much as her head had been spinning over the summer with all the new truths she'd uncovered, finding out about Theo was one of the best things that had ever happened to her.
She wasn't alone in the world, anymore, and it gave her an inner peace she'd craved for a long time.
It was like her life was finally coming full circle, so she wasn't going to complain about that.
"I'm glad to hear that", the Headmistress smiled back, setting her cup down on the desk. "I must admit that I was a little intrigued when Mr. Nott came to my office and asked me to set up a reunion for the people of your school year".
"I still can't believe he did that", Hermione replied. "He spent years tracking me down".
"You must be very important to him", the other suggested. "Though it turned out to be an excellent idea for all of us. The castle is finally back to its old glory. It wouldn't have happened if you former students hadn't come and participated in the auction".
The night of the reunion had been common opinion that the school should have already been fixed five years after the war, and they were disappointed with the way the Ministry had dealt with the issue.
Been tight on money wasn't an excuse to leave the future of wizarding society to itself.
"I suppose a special thank you is in order", the Headmistress continued. "The money you donated really made a difference. We were able to conclude the reparations before the beginning of the term".
"I'm happy to hear that", she admitted. "But you don't have to thank me. Money is not a problem and I think of Hogwarts as a great investment".
Minerva was about to add something else when one of the portraits hung behind her started calling her quite excitedly.
"Headmistress! Headmistress!"
He was an old man whose robes clearly placed him on a much older century.
"Two students are dueling on the third floor!"
Professor McGonagall sighed. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short".
"You need not to worry, Headmistress. I'd like to take a walk around before I leave, if it's not too much of a disturbance. I really missed the castle".
"But of course you can", she smiled fondly. "Take all the time you need. Just perhaps try to be discreet, otherwise I'm not sure you won't be followed everywhere by the students. I can't do much to reign in those who have their free period and a passion for the so called Golden Girl".
Agreeing that she would avoid the side of the castle where most lessons were held, Hermione and the Headmistress left the latter's office together, and greeted each other where their paths divided.
The brunette took the stairs on the left, the ones which changed, heading for the Great Hall, while McGonagall proceeded in the direction of the second floor.
"Hermione?", she called back when they were barely at a couple feet of distance.
"Yes?"
"You can call me Minerva".
After a long stroll around the Black Lake and a brief detour to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hermione gave one more look at the castle from afar before stepping outside the gate.
In the perimeter of the school apparition was not permitted, therefore she needed to get to Hogsmeade before she could leave Scotland.
As much as she would have liked to stay a bit longer, maybe spend a couple hours in the library and have a look at the Great Hall, not to mention the Room of Requirement, which she'd always wanted to study, right now she had more pressing issues to face.
Like the article who seemed to be placing horns on her head.
She knew there had to be a perfectly logical explanation for the picture she'd seen on the paper (she didn't even bother reading the full article), but she needed to hear it from Draco.
Seeing the Prophet at breakfast had been a huge blow at her confidence.
So she was bracing herself for what happened next, but she wished not to delay it.
MagiTech's big event was just around the corner, and she had to deal with potential problems before the moment came and she needed to giver her full attention to it.
As soon as the first row of houses was in sight, Hermione turned on her spot and dis-apparated.
She landed outside the main gates of Malfoy Manor.
The wards seemed to have been adjusted recently, because they opened on their own, as if they recognized her.
They seemed to be different from those in her family's ancestral home, or the ones at the Burrow.
Walking fast on her heeled boots, the witch lost just a second contemplating Lucius' albino peacocks, who were currently refreshing their feathers in a small lake on one side of the garden.
They didn't seem all that elegant as they tripped over each other to get to the water.
She was at the main door in a matter of seconds, where a fully-clothed House-Elf welcomed her to the house and asked her to wait for a moment. The little creature reappeared after a minute or so, saying he'd escort her to the room where the Masters were having their breakfast.
She winced at the word Master, but thought better than to say something about it.
The Malfoy Elves were some of the more stubborn she'd ever met, which made Dobby, the black sheep, all the way more dear to her. As if saving her lives and that of her friends wasn't enough, mind you.
"Hermione, what a welcome surprise", Narcissa greeted her as soon as she set foot in the Manor's family parlour.
"Please, come take a seat", added Lucius.
The witch smiled nervously, fidgeting on the spot. "Actually-", she started, but the words died in her throat as she noticed that Harry was at the table, too.
He appeared to be busy with his bacon and eggs, but she could see the little smirk shadowing his lips. "Is there a problem, Hermione?", the Auror asked.
"No, nothing like that", she shook her head, and only then she noticed the copy of the Prophet laying on the table next to his forearm. "I was just wondering if perhaps I could speak with Draco?"
Averting her eyes from The-Boy-Who-Lived, the witch looked expectantly at Lucius and Narcissa.
"My son hasn't woken up yet", the blond wizard said. "I'm sure I can get one of the Elves to go fetch him for you, but may I ask what's the emergence?"
Lucius' expression was dangerously similar to Harry's, and she wondered if perhaps the man already knew about his relationship with Draco. He acted as if he did, though that was technically impossible.
She knew for a fact Draco wanted to wait a little before telling them.
It was the first time he had a serious relationship, the first time there was the possibility to introduce a girl he was dating to his parents. The thought terrified him and she couldn't really blame him: as aristocratic as they looked, Narcissa and Lucius could be a little embarrassing when it came to their heir. Sweetly embarrassing, but still.
"There's just something I need to talk him about", she answered, vaguely. "Mind if I wake him up?"
The Malfoy matriarch seemed a bit startled by her request. She was probably thinking it wasn't good manners, or something along that line.
Lucius smirked again, and her cheeks blushed with anger. "Be my guest".
Harry downright laughed at her when she excused herself and exited the room, looking for the proper set of stairs that would lead her to Draco's private chambers.
The thing she hated about Manors was that they were simply too big for an average of three people living in them.
It took her almost ten minutes to finally reach her destination, but when she did she wasn't so sure she was up for the confrontation anymore. Taking a deep breath, she knocked.
(Malfoy Manor: the East Wing, Wiltshire, England;
October 26th, 2003, around 10:15 a.m.)
Having missed his alarm, Draco woke up a little later than he'd intended to that morning.
The night before he'd returned to the Manor as soon as he'd set foot outside of Astoria's apartment, still a bit fazed, and most part of the night he'd spent it disregarding his medicines and having a go at his father's personal stash of liquor.
As he opened his grey eyes and squeezed them shut again because of the vibrant light filling his bedroom, his first thought was that it hadn't been a good idea, to which followed a muttered curse when memories from the night before flowed back into his mind.
He couldn't believe Astoria had tried to kiss him.
The blond had already tried to make a mental sum of the possible reasons that could have led the witch to make a move on him, and once more he came up empty-handed.
Of one thing he was sure: his friend's failed attempt hadn't been the reason she'd summoned him to his apartment.
He wouldn't have gone if he'd suspected such a thing.
Astoria had been approached by her biological father, a man she knew it existed but never thought of as real, and Draco had done his best to try and offer some comfort about her unlikely situation.
She'd always been a light drinker, so perhaps that was something he had to keep in mind as well.
With the way he'd treated her, there was no way she wanted to get back together.
But then why had she tried to kiss him, putting him in such a position?
Nothing had happened, he'd pushed her back and told her he wasn't interested as gently as he could, but that didn't mean things could just go back to normal now.
What would Granger think if she was ever to find out?
Was there really a chance he was going to sound credible when telling her?
Draco conjured a mental picture of the conversation.
What was he supposed to say... it's not how it looks?
He thought of the excuse as the perfect way to get himself landed in St. Mungo's, only this time in the obituary.
Hermione Granger wasn't the type of woman you messed around with, voluntarily or not.
Groaning in his pillow, Draco raised to a sitting position and grabbed his phone from its spot on the nightstand.
There was a message from Theo from roughly an hour before, to which his best friend had sometime later attached a picture of the paper's article he was mentioning in the text.
09:07 a.m.
From: Theodore Nott
"WTF, Draco? Read the bloody Prophet".
Draco couldn't believe his bad luck.
Beneath the title in bold characters, at the sight of witch he grimaced, was a picture that was painstakingly easy to misinterpret, a picture of Astoria with her hands around his shoulders as she tried to lean in for a kiss that had never happened, faintly brushing her lips over his.
How did that end up in the Prophet?
He couldn't believe there was a reporter so hellbent on ruining his life to follow him to a friend's home to shoot photos from outside a window, but when he glanced down once more at the screen and read who'd signed the article, the blond's surprise deflated all at once.
Of course it was Rita Skeeter.
Ready to get up from the bed, have his breakfast and find a way to disentangle himself from the mess, Draco thought better than to send Granger the usual Good morning text.
She normally didn't read the Prophet, so there was a slimy chance he could at least tell her what had happened himself, rather than having her finding out from the papers.
His hope evaporated as there was a knock on his door, followed by a familiar voice.
"Malfoy? Are you awake?"
She didn't sound particularly angry, so maybe she didn't know yet, but it could also have been just a tactic to get him to open the door and feast on his guts.
He'd learned a long time ago not to underestimate this particular witch.
"Come in", he sighed, resigned to his fate.
He prayed every illustrious Slytherin he knew not to lose her over Astoria's unpredictable whim.
The door opened in one swift movement, as if propelled by a spell, and when Hermione finally entered his bedroom her magic was cracking wildly around her.
She leaned on the doorstep and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Granger", he panted. "I swear it's not how it looks".
Only the little dignity he had left prevented him from slapping his own face as the words left his mouth.
Taken by panic, he'd said the very thing he'd promised himself not to.
He was surprised when the witch let out a small laugh.
"Trust me, Draco. I know it's not how it looks", she provoked. "You wouldn't be still in one piece, otherwise".
A lump formed in his throat, but the wizard managed to swallow it down.
His next move was going to be logical in the hopes she'd appreciate the honesty, so he resorted to merely share his account of the previous night with her in glistening detail.
There wasn't much else he could do with the Prophet forcing him to come clean about something he had yet to understand for himself.
"Like I told you yesterday, Astoria asked me if I could go to her place to talk over something that was clearly bothering her", he started. "Which she did. Her biological father showed up and she needed someone to talk about it with, so that's where most of our meeting went".
Hermione tapped her foot on the floor. "I'm currently more interested in how you got to snog her".
"I did no such thing. You have to believe me, Granger", he pleaded. "We were laughing about something when suddenly she became all serious and, well, then she tried to kiss me. I pushed her back as soon as I realized what she was doing, but obviously they wouldn't bother taking pictures of the part where I reject her".
"I see", the witch said, half-heartedly. She didn't sound too convinced, but she finally left her spot next to the door and walked to the bed, where she sat on his side. "They are following you".
"I thought so, too", Draco admitted, not daring to reach out with his hand to grab hers even as he was dying to do so. He needed to know things were fine between them before he tried to do that. "But I can cope with that, as long as they don't manage to take you away from me".
He sounded more dramatic and borderline sappy than he'd intended, but at least he was being honest.
The last thing he needed in his life right now was to lose her.
The Slytherin was pretty sure no Australian Healer could fix him if that happened.
"It takes more than Rita Skeeter fabricating gossip to pull me out of your orbit, Malfoy", she reassured him, and this time the smile she gave him reached her eyes.
Squatting a little closer to him, Hermione grabbed both his hands and eyed him seriously.
"But I do feel like maybe you should talk to Astoria. You two were together in our fifth year, weren't you? It was longer than that", she tried to remember, frantically. "Oh Merlin".
Draco wasn't exactly following. "What?"
"Do you think my cousin's still in love with you?"
Someone cleared their throat at that point, but Granger was too taken by her musings to notice, while her boyfriend was too busy trying to find the appropriate answer.
"Tell me I'm not the evil witch-bitch who stole you and broke her heart", Hermione pleaded.
She seemed rather concerned with Astoria's feelings on the matter, rather than the fact he'd been photographed as he allegedly - allegedly being the operative word - kissed someone else.
Draco didn't know if he should feel lucky, impressed or offended.
"You're not an evil witch-bitch who stole Draco and broke my heart".
Just when they'd thought their breakfast couldn't get any more eclectic than it already was, the fireplace in the family parlour roared again, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were startled by yet another unexpected appearance.
"I'm so sorry to be bothering you, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy", the newcomer greeted them, a nervous smile on her lips as she rushed into a poorly executed curtsy.
Narcissa's gaze lingered on the witch: her dress robes were wrinkled and her hair uncombed, but what really stood out the most were her red, puffy eyes. From the opposite side of the circular table, Lucius sent her a questioning glance, to which she replied with a subtle shrug.
"You're not bothering us, dear", she welcomed her guest. "But may I ask what brings you to the Manor in such a state of distress?"
Astoria bit her lip and glanced at Harry, who was still seating at the table with them and pretending to be particularly interested with the bottom of his cup of coffee.
Feeling three different sets of eyes on him, the Auror finally looked up and cleared his throat.
"Well, it's best if I start working", he announced. "Thank you for the breakfast".
Potter kissed Narcissa on the back of the hand, as Andromeda had taught him was proper, quickly nodded at Lucius and feigned a smile in the young witch's direction.
With that, The-Boy-Who-Lived went on his merry way.
He swore on Godric, breakfasts at the Manor were the best.
As soon as Harry was out of the room, the young Greengrass seemed to regain some of her confidence, and she straightened her back before she spoke again.
"I really need to talk to Draco".
"I can't say I am surprised of your visit", Lucius, the only one of Draco's parents who'd already read the Prophet this morning, drawled. "Though your timing may not be the best".
Narcissa was little taken aback by her husband's statement: there was something he knew which she ignored, and it didn't sit well with her very curious self. Eager to rectify the fact, she raised a hand and indicated the hallway.
"He hasn't come down for breakfast yet, but Hermione came here with a very similar request not too long ago. I'm sure he's up and dressed already", she said.
"Jingle!", Lucius called for one of the Elves. "Show Mrs. Greengrass the way to Draco's room. Please".
The Lady of the Manor beamed with pride.
Her husband still struggled to adjust to their new way of living, which mostly entailed being honest people and respecting the law, even those who were at the other end of the spectrum from the education they'd both received as Purebloods.
To watch him spontaneously being kind to an Elf made something in her insides squirm with delight.
Her son was so not right about Lucius. He was redeemable.
"I- Thank you, Lord Malfoy. I'll- I'll be on my way, then", Astoria bid them goodbye. "Lady Malfoy".
She was gone before either of them could reply.
Narcissa turned to face her husband, arching one brow.
"Is there something you would like to share?"
Lucius smirked before he passed the paper he'd been reading earlier to his wife.
There was sheer amusement in his grey eyes when he talked.
"Page six, Cissy", he instructed. "It appears our son isn't as hopelessly celibate as we thought".
It took only two minutes for the witch to read the entire article, twice.
Draco's romantic life was something the couple was discussing more and more since their son had passed his twenties and Lucius had finally returned home, but what little clues they'd recently put together thanks to the small changes in his routine and behaviour did not point at Astoria Greengrass. At all.
"I don't understand", Narcissa professed.
Lucius nodded, somewhat solemnly. "Me neither".
Although Draco had never personally told them about his affair with the witch as a teenager, they knew the two had had a relationship: they'd started suspecting it after he'd retrieved from the Malfoy vault an old heirloom they'd then seen on the girl's ears during the Summer Gala after their son's fourth year, and then they'd found the couple snogging in her gardens a couple hours later.
He'd told her about it only years after they'd broken off things, but from what she knew and had shared with her husband, it wasn't very likely the two could ever backfire.
"Well, I don't really fancy being kept in the dark...", Narcissa trailed off, suggestively.
Lucius studied her expression for a moment. In his wife's eyes there was a gleam that reminded him of their time in the Slytherin dorms, where she'd seduced him with her cunning even more than she'd done with her exceptionally good looks.
Whatever she was plotting right now, he wanted in.
"What do you suggest we do, dear?"
The woman shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps you could escort me to the small library, my love. I'm almost positive I have forgotten one of my favourite novels there".
He knew for a fact Narcissa walked into that room less than twice a year, preferring the main library on the ground floor, but it happened to be in Draco's wing of the Manor.
Now understanding what his wife was hinting at, Lucius rose from his seat and offered her his arm.
Gracefully, the witch accepted the proffered arm and nudged him outside of the family parlour, from where they rushed through the hallways of the Manor using a route only someone as accustomed to such a large house as they were could come up with.
It wasn't the shortest, but it was the one that granted them discretion.
They didn't want to be seen sneaking around their own home by the Aurors, but at the same time they also didn't wish to cross paths with Astoria and Jingle, or to be caught red-handed by Draco as they meddled and pried into his personal life.
Their course of action proved to be the right one, because as they turned the last corner and arrived from her left, they managed to notice Mrs. Greengrass' hiding spot behind a column, and to find one for themselves.
A voice, Hermione's, removed their focus from Astoria and brought it to the scene unfolding before their eyes.
"Do you think my cousin's still in love with you?"
"Well, this is bound to be interesting", Narcissa whispered in his ear. "Seems like someone's about to buy me that tiara we've seen in Manchester".
The two had on-going bet that was based entirely on their mutual conviction of what a great couple Draco and Hermione would have made.
According to Cissy they were already past the stage of underlying sexual tension and something romantic had definitely happened between them, while her husband was more cautious in his judgement: as much as he believed the two were well-suited and had undeniable chemistry when not at each other's throats, with their past and the animosity that sometimes still re-emerged when their opinions diverged, Lucius believed it was going to take some time before they got there.
"Should I remind you it's crass to cheer before victory, dear?"
The woman stamped on his foot. He was about to retort when Astoria, who'd left her hiding place, cleared her throat and stepped into Draco's bedroom.
"Tell me I'm not the evil witch-bitch who stole you and broke her heart".
As Lucius mentally prepared to say goodbye to four-thousand-sixteen Galleons, one Sickle and two Knuts, Narcissa hid her chuckle on his shirt, wondering if she could get him to buy her the matching necklace, too.
Her daydreams of jewelry were interrupted by what was said next.
"You're not the evil witch-bitch who stole Draco and broke my heart".
It was their cue to leave.
Now that they knew their son wasn't hopelessly celibate, as Lucius had put it, and that no girl was getting her heart broken inside of Malfoy Manor, it was time they stopped being concerned parents before they turned into stalkers.
The wizard smirked. "Off to Manchester, I suppose. Shall we?"
"You're not the evil witch-bitch who stole Draco and broke my heart".
Astoria drew a sharp breath and smiled nervously at the two people in the room.
It was more of a grimace, but they were too startled by her sudden appearance to really notice.
It took them a moment to react: Draco was the first to recover, and he looked at her with widened eyes.
"Astoria", he called. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, cousin", Hermione greeted her as well, albeit awkwardly.
He supposed it was only fair: the fact she had a forgiving nature didn't mean she wasn't one pissed off witch.
"Hermione, hi", the Greengrass replied, her cheeks now red.
As much as she'd known she was about to face them both before entering the room, the woman was now realizing just how difficult this conversation was really going to be.
What could she possibly say to justify her actions?
Truth be told, she wasn't aware of their relationship when she'd made her move on Draco, having not been present when the news had been shared with their circle of friends, but she still felt terrible about what she'd done.
Her older cousin's friendship was one she'd grown to value just as much as she did Theo's, while Malfoy was one of her oldest friends and she'd stopped loving him romantically a long time ago.
The night had brought her advice, and her time with Pansy that morning had helped her shed some light on the current situation, but that didn't mean she wasn't embarrassed to share what she'd found out with them.
It made her sound positively pathetic.
"I am so, so sorry", she started. "And I apologize, with both of you".
The two were still sitting next to each other on his side, their hands intertwined, and Astoria was surprised when she noticed it didn't hurt her in any way to see them like that.
Her only wound was the one on her pride, but she had only herself to blame for it.
"I hope you believe me if I say I had no idea you two were a thing", the witch continued. "Otherwise I swear I would have kept my hands to myself".
Hermione's expression softened a little at that.
"I know that", she said. "I know you would never hurt me on purpose, Tori. We may have not been acquainted with each other for long, but I think I know what kind of person you are. That's not at all what I'm concerned about".
The Slytherin witch gaped at her. "It's not?"
"Nope", the other confirmed, lingering on the p. "I've been debating for some time if I should have talked to you about my, uh- Relationship with Draco. I knew you had history, but it's been some time now, and we were trying to keep it under wraps. I'm afraid I was a bit selfish in my choice".
On her side, Draco snorted. Under normal circumstances she'd have swatted him on the arm, but she knew she'd deserved this type of reaction: he'd never seemed bothered by the idea of other people finding out about them.
She, on the contrary, had done everything in her power to keep it a secret, but he couldn't really blame her for her trust-issues, either, now could he?
"You were absolutely entitled to your privacy, Hermione", Astoria rebuked. "I should have just bought myself The Monthly Basilisk like any normal witch with urges to tackle without a partner".
If possible, she looked even more flushed and flustered now that she had at her arrival.
Her eyes were stubbornly focused on the tip of her shoes, and her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her dress robes. Standing in front of the double-poster bed, shoulders hunched, she looked exceptionally small.
"I may be entitled to my privacy, but I still wish I'd talked to you about it".
There was a tiny bit of guilt in Granger's voice, a sentiment the wizard had a hard time trying to place correctly.
Then he remembered how much Gryffindors were prone to masochism.
Of course she would try to soothe Astoria's conscience by taking some of the blame herself. His theory was confirmed just moments later.
"I'm sorry if my involvement with Malfoy hurt you", she apologized. "I never meant to".
At that Draco almost fell from bed, while Astoria erupted in laughter.
"Oh. My. Circe", she sputtered between giggles.
Granger turned to him with questioning eyes only to find hilarity on his face as well.
"Care to explain what's so funny?", she asked to no one in particular.
It had been ingrained in her that when people were laughing and she wasn't it had to a case of mockery, and this time there was no difference. Now it was Draco's time to feel guilty. He'd helped immensely to achieve that.
"I was thinking, and so was probably your cousin, that it's positively Gryffindor of you to try and ease her sense of guilt by placing the responsibility of what happened on yourself", he said.
Astoria nodded. "Really, you don't need to. I feel guilty because I made a mess, but you're not hurting me by dating Draco. Now that I think about, you're actually quite the perfect match, and I wish you guys all the best. Again, I'm sorry I unknowingly jeopardized that".
"Your apology is accepted, but unnecessary", Hermione smiled at her. "You didn't know we were together, and I can't certainly call myself a feminist if I berate another woman for making a move on a man she thinks it's available".
The air was less tense now, and the younger witch tried to crack a joke.
"I'm not sure I wouldn't have berated myself, though", she said before turning her eyes on the wizard. "No offence here, Draco, but had you been single and something happened last night, I'm positive I would have regretted it immensely".
"None taken". The blond raised his hands, gesturing things were fine between them, but Tori wasn't done yet.
"Like I said, my life has been particularly tumultuous lately, and last night I felt exceptionally lonely. Draco just happened to be there", she explained. "What happened between us when we were kids has been long put in my drawer of memories, and I never wished to re-open it. It was just a momentary slip. The boy I was in love with has very little in common with the man you're dating now, cousin, and I do really wish you all the best".
"Then that's sorted", Hermione nodded. "I'm glad we talked about this".
Rising from the bed, she walked the distance between Astoria and herself and hugged the witch.
"Now, wouldn't it be a perfect time for you to kiss", teased Draco, hands propped behind his head.
The only sound that was heard next, besides from two witches giggling, was that of a body who got levitated with magic and dumped on the floor.
All was well what ended well. Sort of.