Chapter 9 - Unexpected Visitor

Hermione's week progressed much the same way. She went into the shop and opened it with her Grandfather, and studied. She studied so much that by the third day she had made it through five of the six tomes. She was incessantly pestering her Grandfather with questions.

Her task today was to attempt to take a wand apart, and see if she could do it without damaging any of the components. She was supposed to meet up with the Slytherin bunch for lunch today, though she doubted they would show up.

Over the past several days, Hermione kept making intuitive leaps when it came to making wands. She would pepper her Grandfather with questions, and then suddenly grasp something she had been missing. It had been going on like this for the better part of the week, and her Grandfather often expressed his pleasure at her ability to learn, and apply her knowledge.

Hermione didn't overcomplicate it. There were certain components that simply worked better together than others, and the Ollivander family had spent years comparing notes and combining different components together. She didn't doubt they had done their due diligence, and that alone kept her from going spare. In the beginning, they had even attempted to assemble wands with their own but had discovered it left an impression of their magic on the figured product. As such, they learned to do it all wandlessly. That, Hermione discovered, was the reasoning behind the runes. It dampened the specific magical signature of the caster assembling the wand. It took longer and required a lot more concentration than it would have otherwise, however, the finished wand was always more pliant and amenable to the intended user.

It was tiring, to be sure. Hermione had done more magic wandlessly in the past four days than she ever had as a witch, but as a result, she also felt more in touch with her magic in general. She could tell when her reserves were running low. She could see that attachment between herself and her wand. And now, she was expected to see how to disassemble a wand without harming the components, refresh the core, and put them back together. This was not the easiest assignment Hermione had ever done, however, it was extremely rewarding.

She had learned all about different cores, wand woods, and their attributes. She had also learned that different combinations often yielded different results. A wand was meant to watch with the magical core and personality of its wielder, and as such, there was always bound to be some trial and error with matching a witch or wizard to their suited wand. It was rather interesting, and Hermione had thrown herself headlong into her research. She was fascinated.

The tomes also indicated that no Ollivander ever matched wands to their new owners in quite the same way. When she had asked her Grandfather about this, he had explained that he simply got a "feeling" about a wand being right for a particular person. Of course, the way to test it was to have them wave the wand a bit, and see what happened. Hermione was very interested in this, because just a day ago she had been watching a new first-year get their wand, and Hermione had seen strands of energy from the witch extending out to different wands.

When Hermione related this to her Grandfather, he had indicated that with enough time and practice she may be able to choose wands correctly on the first try. He also told her that she might be able to see bonds between witches and wizards this way if she worked at it. Hermione filed that information away for another day, having plenty to work on as it was. Her Grandfather had kept her very busy.

She had learned how to properly deconstruct a wand, and how to replace cores when necessary. Her Grandfather told her she would be doing this stage for a while before she began to attempt to fashion her own wands together to sell in the shop. He insisted it was tradition for the first wand an Ollivander made to become the wand of the creator, and Hermione wasn't yet ready to commit to a specific wand. She would rather do more research and be sure she had a solid understanding of wand creation.

Creating a wand was not unlike potions work. There were so many variables at play, and part of it was simply intuition and getting a feel for what she was working with. She had time yet, before she needed to be competent at the creation of wands. She did not, however, have too much time in regards to learning how to set her own enchantments on wands. She would essentially be superimposing her will over that of the wand or the wand owner, and that could become tricky.

Hermione and her Grandfather had not gone back to visit Gabby, they were far too busy setting the shop to rights before the pre-term rush. Hermione had been working on her ideas for getting the wands all categorized and filed away, and she was working on it when she took short breaks between studying or after the shop closed. Her Grandfather had wanted to help her, but Hermione insisted on doing it alone, saying it would be good for her to have to touch and catalog every wand in the shop as a means of "making their acquaintance." Grandfather had looked bemused at the notion, but let her go about it her way as long as she promised to explain the way it worked in depth. Hermione had readily agreed.

She had the shop set up nearly overnight it had seemed, and before her Grandfather knew it, all of the stacks of wands were gone. His shop looked so much larger and open, and he had to admit he found it to be a change for the better. More than once when he had been closing up for the night, he had tripped over stacks here or there. That would surely no longer be a problem.

Friday had come and gone, and Hermione had shown her Grandfather how the system she implemented worked for calling up wands when they got a first-year coming to collect their new wand. Her Grandfather was pleased with how simply it worked but knew the charms and enchantments his Granddaughter had put into place had taken a lot of time, energy, and forethought. He was very happy to have her around. She had managed to bring some joy back into his life when he didn't realize it had been missing anymore. He was also less likely to natter at his patrons, likely due to having company more often than not. Sometimes they were joined by her friends for dinner, and sometimes it was just them. Either way, the witch was a boon to his house.

Hermione was inwardly smug at the knowledge that she had guessed correctly about the snakes not coming by to take her to lunch. She had figured it was all smoke and mirrors, and she had been proven correct. Closing up shop Friday night, Hermione said so to her Grandfather.

"I told you they would never want to be seen publicly with me, even if I am a Half-Blood now," Hermione grinned at him.

"You never know. There's plenty of time before term starts for them to come and gather you from the shop."

"They won't. It was said out of politeness and nothing else."

"I guess we will see, won't we, dear Granddaughter," her Grandfather smiled down at her as they were walking back toward the Floo.

"I guess so, Grandfather. I suppose they could prove me wrong. I'm still learning all these new rules," Hermione quipped.

"Yes, though you certainly don't have to on my account, Hermione." Grandfather had been telling Hermione from the very beginning he didn't expect her to forsake how she was raised, or change her personality. Hermione heard him, believed him, and then set about doing it regardless. She knew it would be better to fit in somewhat, to learn the archaic rules, and become more than the best friend of Harry Potter. She could learn the rules to play nice with everyone and turn them. That's what she needed to do because she certainly couldn't trust anyone else to handle what was coming.

Dumbledore had gone on and on about the return of Voldemort and prophecies since Harry was eleven years old, and she had never seen the doddering old fool do anything to attempt the prevention of his return. Well, suffice it to say, after the death of her beloved parents, Hermione wasn't all too interested in learning what Dumbledore may or may not have planned for her future. Instead, she was focusing on creating the future she wanted, while keeping friends alive and intact. A lofty goal, to be sure, but Hermione wasn't one to shy away from a daunting challenge. She'd found out she was a witch when she was eleven years old, and despite suffering severe culture shock, she had thrived. She could do magic better than some who had been raised on the wizarding side of the tracks, so, obviously being raised magical didn't have too much of a say.

Hermione had had to admit though, even if it was in the privacy of her own mind and she would never utter the words aloud, Draco Malfoy had given her a run for her money when it came to being the top of the class. As studious as Hermione was, it was rather impressive. She had never even seen the git study! It was a bit infuriating, but Hermione refused to relent. She would not. She would take top marks again in the fourth year and Draco Malfoy could keep his second place. She would be fine with that.

Dinner was simply fair, while her Grandfather regaled her with some old family tales. Several of them had Hermione laughing so hard tears were leaking from her eyes. She had to say, as far as being adopted goes, Hermione would not have licked out with a better family member unless it had been Sirius and Remus. Ollivander had been wonderful to her. He had never pushed her to be anyone other than who she was, and any changes she had made had been completely of her own volition. She had plans, after all.

That is not to say, however, Hermione didn't miss her parents. She missed them dearly. The crying fits had been coming less often than they had immediately after her parent's deaths, but she tried not to let it bother her. She tried to feel what she felt in the moment, and then let it pass. She had read somewhere that grief functioned like the ocean. Sometimes the tide was low, and sometimes it was high. The grief hit her in waves, and Hermione was doing her best to cope with what she could when it happened. Thankfully she seldom had these fits of grief around anyone else. It was, of course, when she was alone before bed or in the shower when her brain could meander over everything that had happened in the previous months, and how she missed the way her mother smelled when she hugged her, and how her dad had always seemed to be drinking coffee, no matter the time of day.

Dinner had passed pleasantly and Hermione had done her evening lesson with Dotty. This time, it had been about having proper posture, which she had aced. Dotty had pursed her lips as Hermione took several turns about her room with a book on her head, the epitome of grace. A long argument ensued between her and the house elf because Dotty had accused her of cheating somehow. Hermione was indignant at the claim, explaining she had taken ballet as a child and her Mum had always insisted on keeping her back straight. Dotty eventually relented when Hermione huffed and performed a flawless pirouette for her single audience member. Only then had the elf agreed the witch could get some much-needed rest.

Having been excused by her night time niceties tutor, Hermione went about her evening ablutions. She climbed into her bed with a grateful sigh, happy the week was over, and quite excited about her day tomorrow. She was a bit nervous, too. It would be the first time she had seen the Weasley's since Hermione had stormed out in a fit, though thankfully she would be able to avoid Molly for the time being. Hermione couldn't; she was ready to see the interfering woman yet, unwilling to hear apologies, and she certainly would not be willing to grant any amnesty on behalf of Molly Weasley. No, rather not. Hermione was still quite miffed at the treatment she had received from the Weasley matriarch. Her ire for Dumbledore had not yet abated, and it was unlikely to do so. In fact, Hermione often wondered if she would be able to look at her Headmaster without wanting to hex him ever again. Probably not.

Sighing at herself and her incessantly working brain, Hermione started to recount the ingredients in Polyjuice Potion forwards and backward. When she had finished her recitations, she mentally ran through the procedure for brewing the potion, and at some point, she had fallen fast asleep.

Hermione was grateful today was a Saturday. She'd spoken to her Grandfather, and he was perfectly fine with her going to the World Cup with the Weasley's. She was set to meet up with everyone in Diagon later this afternoon to gather all of their school things ahead of time. Apparently, the game could really drag for the World Cup, and last days. Her Grandfather had kindly volunteered to ensure her trunk would make it to the train, should that be the case. Hermione could take it with her, but she didn't feel like worrying about it if she didn't have to.

Hermione decided to dress as befit her new station, mostly because it would reflect well upon her Grandfather and it would also be the perfect opportunity to enact her very sneaky plans. An outing such as the World Cup would draw a lot of Pureblood families, and it would be her first real foray into the public as an Ollivander. *mention skeeter's article here*

Hermione had not neglected her pursuits to learn from Dotty. She was adopting some of the more Pureblood mannerisms and niceties, but slowly. She wouldn't be thought to be trying too hard. The balance she was going to have to walk would be very delicate, indeed. Too much and she would remain just as ostracized as she had before. If she didn't do enough to assimilate she would be thought to be shirking all of her newfound Pureblood duties. She sighed, exasperated at the prospect. She was resigned to this course of action, however.

Hermione had come into the store with her Grandfather, even though she knew she would be far ahead of the Weasley's and Harry in getting to Diagon. She liked to spend time with her Grandfather and wanted to help him open the shop. She knew better than to start back into her assigned reading today, though. As soon as she fell back into her research mode she would absolutely miss out on this time with her friends, as she would likely ignore them when they came to collect her.

To keep herself busy, Hermione flitted about the storefront, putting some final touches on her wand indexing system. She had created it just for Ollivander's. The system would respond to the commands of the wandmaker to bring forth the specified wands which might call to a witch or wizard. All magical signatures were unique, and the wands which might suit them were just as varied.

All of the wands were neatly cataloged in a magically enhanced set of cabinets. The cabinets were linked to the area behind the front desk, so, no more dangerous and unruly stacks of wand boxes strewn about the store. It was as clean as she had ever seen it, and with the tripping hazard managed, it seemed to increase in size. Pulse, there would be no way to knick a wand. The only way to access the store of wands was with the Ollivander magic, and nothing else would suffice.

"Hermione, the shop looks perfect! Stop fussing," her Grandfather advised.

"Yes, Grandfather. I apologize, but I am rather ill-suited to a state of idleness," Hermione grinned at him.

"I'm sure they will be here on time. Why not take a seat, and help the next few customers who come into the store? I think you could try matching someone to their wand. You have a solid grasp of the theory, and I'll be here if you get stumped," her offered with a grin.

Hermione's eyes were alight with excitement at the prospect. "I would love that!"

She had mostly been doing all of her projects in the back, eager to learn as much as possible. She had watched her Grandfather pair a few new students but hadn't actually done it herself yet. She would very much enjoy finding the wand match for a witch or a wizard. Hermione remembered what that moment had been like for her when she received her first wand. The idea of giving that to someone else? That would be amazing.

Her Grandfather chuckled at Hermione's excitement, " I thought you may! I'm going to go and grab some tea. Mind the store, then, and holler if you need anything." He winked at her conspiratorially before leaving the front desk area and making his way to the parlor.

Hermione took the seat her Grandfather had recently vacated and waited anxiously for a customer to come inside. In the meantime, she could study the old ledgers. She quite liked the idea of finding out how much she actually knew. Knowledge and research often differed from practical application. She had figured that out early in her quest to know everything she could about magic.

Hermione had lost herself in studying the old ledgers, which marked down which wands witches and wizards had been paired with. There were so many records, she doubted she could commit them to memory. The bell above the door chime sang out to announce a visitor, and Hermione looked up from her ledger with a smile.

Before her, stood none other than Draco Malfoy. Her smile slipped a bit, as they eyed one another in a bit of shock. It wasn't entirely rare for a witch or wizard to need a new wand. Sometimes they broke due to an accident, and sometimes it was discovered the wand was not a good fit after some kind of emotional upheaval on the part of the wand bearer. Generally, witches and wizards took very good care of their wands, though. Their wands were an extension of themselves, so it was odd to see Draco Malfoy in front of her.

Hermione remembered herself, clearing her throat lightly before she addressed him. "How can we help you today, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Er- Hello Miss Granger-Ollivander. I seem to have broken my wand. I could use a new one before term starts," he replied, with a sheepish look on his face.

Hermione gave him her best professional smile. "Of course, I can help you with that. Up! On the platform to get your measurements, if you please." She said gesturing to an area off to her left.

Draco nodded, looking around the shop as he stepped up on the platform. Hermione grabbed the enchanted tape measure from the countertop and walked over to him. With a wave of her wand, she took his measurements, which were automatically recorded in the ledger behind the counter.

"The shop looks nice. Your influence, I take it?" Malfoy asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Hermione met his eye and smirked. "I've never been one for mess. My Grandfather allowed me to do a bit of tidying."

"I can see that. It looks more homey, somehow."

"Thank you," she accepted with a nod of her head. "Okay, follow me, please."

Hermione glided back behind the counter and checked his measurements. Placing her hand on the countertop, she called several wands out of storage that seemed interested in the wizards magical signature.

"What was your old wand? It will help me to determine a good match for you," she explained.

"It was a hawthorn and unicorn hair, ten inches," he supplied.

Hermione pursed her lips in a moue. A hawthorn wand with unicorn hair would not suggest a wizard prone to the Dark Arts. Hermione found that to be very interesting, indeed. She stole a glance at the wizard standing before her, interest plain on her face. She would have to file this information away for later. Hermione followed the blue strips of magic extending from Malfoy's magical core and pulled several wands to try. She wondered what he would end up with, this time.

"Try this one. It's a dogwood and unicorn hair, ten and a half inches," she said handing it to him. Draco flicked the wand, and it emitted some sparks, but it didn't seem to have found it's home.

"Hmm. No. Let's try this one instead." Hermione handed him another wand and took it back nearly immediately. "No, not that one either. How about this?"

Draco had a bemused look about him. No doubt being fitted for a replacement wand by his former nemesis would be rather hilarious from his standpoint. Draco wrapped his fingers around the wand, and she could tell this would be the right one. He flicked the wand, and golden sparks emitted from the tip.

"This feels good," he said with a pleased smile.

"It likes you. What you have here is a cedarwood and dragon heartstring wand, eleven inches. I believe, as the old adage goes, the wand chooses the wizard. Are you happy with this one?"

"It feels good in my hand. Can you tell me a little about it?"

"Certainly. Cedarwood wands generally belong to those who are loyal, possess strength of character, and are shrewd in their judgments of others. The dragon heartstring core is, of course, the most powerful, but can be a bit temperamental. If I might suggest such a thing, practice with it a bit before we return to school. It will not be easily won to you, but it will not do you a disservice once it has been," Hermione rattled off quickly. This wand seemed to suit him just fine. Loyal, check. Shrewd, check. There had never been any doubt in Hermione's mind that Draco was an intelligent and powerful caster.

"Thank you. I will do that. The requisite twenty galleons?"

"Of course," Hermione smiled at him.

Draco passed over the galleons to her, and Hermione tallied everything in the ledger for her Grandfather. With a wave of her hand, she banished the rest of the wands back to their homes, for now.

"You seem to really have a knack for this," Draco commented.

Hermione looked up at him and smirked, "Well, of course, I'm an Ollivander."

Draco chuckled lightly and slid his new wand into his holster. "I'm meeting my mates for lunch, would you like to come and dine with us? We did promise you a meal."

Hermione was taken aback by the invitation. She cast a quick tempus, and seeing it was only half eleven, saw no reason not to go to lunch with the snakes. Aside from the fact they were snakes, that is. Her friends weren't due to arrive until nearly one, so that should be plenty of time.

Hermione flashed a smile at Malfoy and replied, "Sure. Give me just a moment to let Grandfather know I'm not going to be minding the shop. A witch needs to eat."

"Of course, I'll wait for you out front," Malfoy replied with a smile of his own and left the shop. Hermione went to the parlor to inform her Grandfather she had been invited to lunch by Draco Malfoy.

"Well, I'll be. I can't believe they followed through. By all means, go and get some lunch. I've got the shop. What did he need to stop by here for?"

"He broke his wand, somehow, I didn't ask. I thought it would be unprofessional to snoop," Hermione supplied.

"Interesting. What did he end up with?"

"A cedarwood and dragon heartstring, eleven inches."

"That's quite interesting, but seems to suit him. I'll see you in a bit dear, go and get something to eat. I told you they might surprise you," he said with a knowing smirk.

"Thanks, Grandfather," Hermione rolled her eyes but grinned at him. "I'll see you soon!"

Hermione grabbed her small bag and transfigured it to match her robes, adding a strap for good measure. Since she was in casual witch's robes, she didn't have any pockets. Checking to make sure her wand was firmly in its holster, she left the shop to dine with the serpents. This would be interesting, of that she had no doubt.

Hermione emerged from the front of the shop to find Draco Malfoy waiting for her, just like he said he would. When she opened the door, he had turned around to face her. "Hey. Ready to go?"

He smirked at her, "Of course, Granger. I was waiting on you, remember?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "I am aware, and it isn't as if you were waiting for long. Where are we going?"

Draco extended his arm for her, and Hermione dutifully tucked her hand daintily into the crook of his elbow. "There's a new place; it's called Caro Tesero. It's an Italian establishment, so naturally, Zabini must test it out. Of course, he will only be disappointed and will likely dress down the chef for his incompetent cooking methods."

"Mr. Malfoy, did you just make a joke?"

"I may have, Granger."

"Stop calling me Granger. If the last name is too confusing for you, stick to Hermione," she snarked at him.

"Did you just make a joke?"

"Not at all. I am simply aware that you're easily confused. Evidence suggests my supposition is correct because here you are escorting me to lunch. With your friends. In public, no less."

"Ah, well. Things change, Hermione," Draco replied with a chuckle. Hermione looked over at him and smiled, and of course, a flash of light went off not too far away.

"Lovely. Media darling, yet again!" Hermione commented bitterly. She fought to keep the smile on her face, though, as it wouldn't do for the Prophet to have actual evidence of her hexing cameramen.

"I think tomorrow's paper will be rather interesting," Draco said, sneering at the photographer. It was nice not to have his trademark sneer directed at her, for a change.

"Unfortunately paparazzi are all a part of this circus," Hermione commented sagely, face turning serious.

"Papa-what? What's a circus?" Draco asked, looking over at her. Confusion was evident in the furrowed eyebrows. Hermione took particular notice of his eyes, grey and alight with the query.

"It's a Muggle thing. Paparazzi is a term for photographers who often trail their prey rather doggedly. They're not journalists, they're all like Skeeter. A circus is essentially a big...party, with a tent and games and animals. Maybe I'll take you sometime," she waved her free hand around her as if to say it wasn't important, "but Muggles often refer to something as being a circus when it's a mess. A complete cock-up. A total disaster," Hermione explained kindly. She had forgotten who she was speaking to.

She had also completely forgotten to pay attention to her surroundings. They were being watched, rather pointedly, by anyone in the Alley who could see them. She looked away from Draco to see they were nearing the restaurant. They still had a fair way to go, though there was a crowd gathering on the street, much to Hermione's irritation.

"I see," Draco commented, "so Skeeter and her minions would be the paparazzi, and the circus would be this?" Draco asked, waving his hand around him.

"Inclusively, yes. This is all a circus," Hermione said with a chuckle. "It really is ridiculous. Is it like this all the time? Can you really not go to lunch with your friends without being gaped at and followed by cameras?" Hermione asked him, seriously. This was something she had not been prepared for. She and her Grandfather spent their time in the shop, or at home. They didn't go out often at all.

"Well, yes and no. I am a Malfoy, and you are Hermione Granger. Best friend to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. News has broken of your adoption and parentage, but, this is rather a spectacle for them," Draco replied seriously.

"So it's not that it's you, it's that it's you and I taking a leisurely stroll to a restaurant?"

"Got it in one. The Wizarding world is small, and you are...different now. Just wait until school starts," Draco grinned.

"I'm actually rather dreading it," Hermione said honestly. "Why are you being so nice to me, anyway? I'm just Potter's mudblood, right?"

Draco didn't speak for a moment, and she could see his face had closed down while he was in thought. His eyes were bright with something that Hermione could not name, but she felt she would be alright on a very public and crowded street in Diagon. She inwardly howled in triumph while she fought to keep her facial expression confused, and wounded. Some of the hurt was real, though Hermione had a very specific intention behind the question. She wanted to make Draco Malfoy and all of his friends think for themselves, for a change. So what if she had to play the part of an ignorant newbie to do it? Hermione would do anything for Harry.

They were nearing the restaurant and Hermione was beginning to wonder if she had overplayed her hand, when Draco cleared his throat, "I think you will find you have a rather difficult tightrope to walk, though I think you'll manage it just fine. I will say this now, to you, because I am able to do so. I have never been permitted to be nice to you. I could not show you kindness, even if I had wanted to. There are things...that are expected of me and I have no choice but to live up to those expectations. I am sorry, truly, for calling you...that."

Hermione took a moment to gather her thoughts, while Draco led her inside the restaurant and told the host the name of the reservation. She had an inkling, of course, that Draco Malfoy and all other purebloods had a strict set of rules to follow. That was only confirmed after she had begun her training with Dotty. Whilst she was thinking, the host was showing them to their table, Malfoy guiding her with his hand on the small of her back. Hermione also found that move interesting but decided to file that away for later.

Hermione paused before sitting at the table, turning to look Malfoy in the face. "I'll make you a deal, Mr. Malfoy. I'll give you a clean slate, if you never utter that slur again, even in anger. I will forget the slight against my person, against my house and family. I will offer forgiveness instead of strife because you were a hateful child. A child brought up to hate and fear Muggle-borns, no doubt. Pretend we've never met, because we haven't really, and treat me like anyone else you're allowed to speak to. Show some of this Draco Malfoy at school, be this person, within reason to your self preservationist ideals, and I will forgive you."

Malfoy looked stunned. Polite, concerned, and considering her words. His grey eyes were a tempest, just waiting to cut loose his thoughts and emotions, while his face remained placid. You could throw a boulder at it, and Hermione was fairly certain you'd not see a hint of a ripple. "Think on it, if you must," Hermione granted, turning to see the others looking at them.

Hermione didn't let on as she allowed Draco to push in her chair for her, annoyed that they stood when she had approached the table. Such an out of date mindset, but, they believed they were being polite. This is how they were raised, Hermione, it's not as if you're their best mate. Hermione smiled at everyone and told their waiter she would be having water for the moment until she decided on a meal. Draco sat down next to her, still rather taken aback by her proposition if his face was any indication.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long, mate," Blaise commented, looking over the menu. "I see you've brought us a Gryffindor to dine with."

"Hush, or I'll sick Gabby on you," Hermione teased lowly with a smirk.

Blaise blanched at the idea of his Nonna hearing about any sort of mistreatment towards a witch on his part. He was seemingly amused at her antics, however, because he snarked, "Why do you seek to destroy me?"

Hermione looked up at him innocently, "Why, I'm only taking Gabby's advice. She explicitly told me to come to her should you misbehave in regard to my person." Theo, thus far, had been quiet but was failing at concealing his laughter at Hermione's remark.

"Alright there, Nott? Has something untoward transpired?" Hermione queried, shooting her innocent look in his direction, placing her menu on the table in front of her.

"Not at all. How are you today, Miss Granger-Ollivander?"

"Tsk, tsk, Theo. Didn't we discuss this last time? It's Hermione," she said with a mock frown.

"Oh of course, how could I forget? So sorry, Hermione," Theo soothed.

"Far be it from me to dissuade you of that notion. Granger-Ollivander is simply too many syllables for me," Blaise commented blithely.

"I am inclined to agree with you, though it has sentimental value," Hermione said, a little more testily than she had intended. Hermione felt a pang in her chest at the thought of her parents but fought the urge to cry away. She would not cry in public, and especially not in front of these wizards.

Blaise cleared his throat, "Sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to upset you."

Hermione looked at Blaise with a wan smile, seeing that he did appear to be genuine in his sentiments. "It's alright." Hermione knew she had a way in, there. Now was not the time, but she filed this instance to bring up with him later.

Draco Malfoy, of all people, was the one to put a hand on hers, consolingly. Hermione looked over to him, a question plastered all over her features. Had she not been studying him for his intentions, she would have missed the subtle nod he had given her. Hermione smiled at him, genuinely, for the first time.

Maybe her plans were not so daft after all. Maybe, just maybe, they would work. Maybe all these people needed was a chance to be forgiven, to change, to be different. Hermione and Draco were so focused on the silent affirmation of her deal, they didn't notice the expressions of the others with them at the table. Theo and Blaise eyed them searchingly, trying to discover what had just happened right in front of them. They shared a look with one another, before masking their faces once again as the waiter sauntered up to their table.

"Now then, do you lot know what you would like to order today?"

Draco squeezed her hand lightly, before pulling his hand back to his menu. Hermione was inwardly dancing. She was jumping up and down. She was ecstatic at her ability to plan things. She was beside herself with joy, but she reminded herself she had two more snakes to woo before this lunch was over. She was determined to plant the seeds of doubt before the plates were cleared, and anyone he knew Hermione Granger-Ollivander knew better than to get in her way when she was on a mission.