"Hermione!" McGonagall exclaimed with relief as Hermione flooed into the Heads office at Hogwarts. The mismatched chiming of various objects a welcome entry song. "You startled me."
Hermione shook herself off, looking to her headmistress with a cheeky but apologetic smile, and straightened up.
"Let me walk with you," McGonagall said, getting up from behind her desk, and walking over to her quickly. Her expression was flustered, and she looked exhausted. "I have some things I need to go over with you on the way. Telling you will be much easier than my finding the time to do it myself." She explained as she hustled Hermione to the door at the end of her office, slipping her wand into her sleeve as she went.
"Is it important?" Hermione asked, keeping up with McGonagall's bustling pace with little effort, the length of her stride matching the witches as they dodged and stepped over the piles of rubble.
"Yes, I would think it is," McGonagall replied, turning her steely gaze upon Hermione with a fond sparkle in her eye. "First off, I think it is best that I let you know just how much persuading it took Irma- I mean Madam Pince to accept the idea of help with the library. It took her a week to even admit that you would be a suitable candidate for help, and another week for her to write you the letter. Please, I know you will, but follow every instruction she gives you to the letter. Handing over her library to someone who may know it almost as well as she does is a hard thing for her. Do as she says; even if it seems a little…unorthodox." McGonagall sighed, as they passed Filch emptying out drawers from desks. He gave them a withering glance, before going back to scraping pungent green goo off the inside of a drawer. Hermione blushed, a small flower of pride blooming within her chest. She was touched still that it was her that had been contacted, and even more so now that McGonagall was telling her how long it had taken for Madam Pince to come forward.
"Secondly, I have to admit I need to ask for help with the school. There is too much that needs to be repaired and done, and without a several more hands this school will not be fixed by the time term starts."
"I've started reading up on how to fix the walls-"
"Oh the walls don't matter Miss Granger, they will be fixed in due time, enough of the building is intact, thankfully all common rooms that we may start the term without worry. It is the wards that concern me more. I also meant classrooms, getting supplies, fixing everything; the library." She listed, with a sly glance at Hermione. "I need more hands walking about fixing and cleaning everything they see in sight. I must write to Molly; she would be ideal…" McGonagall began to muse, the first sights of stress carving themselves into her features. They passed a missing wall, the hole in the castle now standing out even more as Hermione noticed portraits and tapestries were slowly being put back. Many looked brighter, as if they'd been cleaned, the frames they were in gleaming. The corridors held a sort of breeze that had never been there before, and Hermione looked up slightly, only to see the tops of trees rustling in the distance. The missing stone had never been so obvious before; but as the insides were fixed, the gaps showed.
"I will pass on a message to the Weasley's and Harry, I'm sure they'll be happy to pop in once in a while and do what they can." Hermione said kindly, as they walked past Flitwick, his tiny body panting with exhaustion as the items in the room he was in flew about madly, settling themselves on to gleaming shelves, and sparkling desks. The glass window still cracked.
"I must say, without Mr Malfoy, we could be in a much worse position, but thankfully…"
"Malfoy? As in Draco?" Hermione asked astounded, peering at McGonagall who had a queer expression on her face as if deep in thought, but also repulsed.
"The very same," McGonagall sighed. "He has been a great help in cleaning the potions rooms. There is still a great way to go down there, many repairs to be made, but since his trial he has been helping. Not even court ordered, that was simply giving the school more galleons than it has seen in a long time…" Minerva seemed to have drifted off into a ponderous thought once more, her brows furrowed, and her lips were drawn together. The doors of the library, neared, and from behind them shrieks could be heard. The anguished cries of Madam Pince as she inspected her books drew an amused smile from McGonagall, and Hermione's eyebrows rose.
"If you could let Weasley's know my…plea for help, I would be grateful, and-"
"A first edition! Ruined! RUINED!"
"If you could just…do exactly as she says I can have her help with the rest of the school much sooner. Thank you Miss Granger. Oh, and try; please try to convince Irma to let go of the feather duster. She needs more than that to sort out the mess." McGonagall smiled, placing a gentle hand upon Hermione's shoulder, a trace of pride within her expression. Hermione smiled back, as McGonagall retreated with surprising speed up a staircase, her face set in its stressed, grim gaze, and vanished. Hermione pulled her wand out, summoning her otter and sending it to Ginny, justifying her frivolous use of the messaging with a patronus as practise. It was also the fastest way to send a message that she knew would definitely get there. She turned; about to open the door to the library when Professor Vector's surprised face swam into view. She smiled sheepishly at the woman who was directing a repaired portrait back into place, and pushed on the door; only to gasp with a mixture of horror and despair.
The library was in ruins. Glass littered every inch of the floor; desks were missing legs, or smashed up altogether. The lamps were ruined; some looked melted, whilst others were missing heads. The chairs were in the same state as the desks and the shelves…
Hermione stared; slack jawed as the ceiling high shelves were now at an angle. A domino effect had occurred, much in the same way as the hall of prophecies in her fifth year. Only instead of destroyed glass orbs; books had piled up in between, their pages splayed; spines split.
Madam Pince sat on the floor behind the shattered remains of her desk, rolls of parchment about her, her large hook nose bent over a large leather bound tome that looked like it was from the stone age. Hermione stepped forward tentatively, her feet scrunching broken glass loudly. Madam Pince looked up, her eyes wide, and Hermione stifled a giggle when she saw her famous feather duster tucked behind her ear. A quill was dipping itself in ink, before scrawling away once more on a roll of parchment.
"Miss Granger!" Madam Pince gasped, scrambling to her feet in the most ungainly way, she stumbled forward, and Hermione was stunned by the look of grief that hung behind her eyes.
"You said I could help?" Hermione tried, peering at the library's mistress curiously.
"Indeed, indeed; I just…I don't know where to start other than what I have done!" She exclaimed, and Hermione felt uncomfortable about the woman's lack of her familiar strict personality. It had unnerved her to see the library so disordered, as the woman famed for her rules and regulations to protect the books had apparently completely forgotten what to do.
"What have you done?" Hermione asked curiously, peering at the huge jumbled piles of books that lay most likely destroyed between the shelves.
"There are three empty classrooms Minerva- I mean Professor McGonagall has given me to put things in, one is now filled with books that are acceptable to be placed back on the shelves; the second is filled with books that need to be repaired; I will have to send them off to Flourish at some point, and I have been making a list of books that are…destroyed beyond repair." She explained, a strangled sob escaping her as she, gestured to the quill and the book she had been bent over, which now Hermione studied it, looked as though it was simply the charred remains.
"That's good at least. What can I do? The desks, chairs and lamps ought to be fixed at least." Madam Pince looked at her, dabbing away at a stray tear with a look of irritation; and Hermione remembered what McGonagall had said to her.
"Mr Malfoy has ordered us new chairs, desks and lamps." She sniffed, looking mildly unimpressed, and Hermione assumed it was due to the change that would have to occur in the library for them to be placed with in it. A strange emotion soaked her as she realised that the idea of Malfoy helping to fix the school; beyond what he was court ordered to do was giving her a queer thrill.
"I think Mr Hagrid is to have all broken furniture, he is to make them into firewood for the school." Madam Pince continued explaining, placing her handkerchief into her pocket.
"And the lamps?" Hermione prodded, sensing that she wasn't going to be given any information willingly; a much more recognisable personality trait from the woman, Hermione considered remembering all the times she'd had to hunt down a book herself.
"Gone beyond repair, to be thrown out." She almost snapped, taking her wand out. She sighed, and looked at Hermione almost apologetically, and flicked her wand. Books began to fly out of the library, and Hermione ducked, gasping.
"I will take these, and continue looking through them, and ordering them, you must…see this place back together somehow. Everything must be cleaned. Minerva wants a very fresh start for the school." Madam Pince said emotionlessly, as the books continue to stream over Hermione's head, her librarian's voice now coming from out of the doors. Tentatively, as the piles of books seemed to diminish after several minutes, Hermione felt comfortable enough to stand up straight again. The lack of old parchment and bound paper in the room made the place seem eerily empty and her footsteps echoed. Window's that had been blocked by the books were now free to flood the room with light, and Hermione flicked her wand at them; letting them open by themselves, and the wind from earlier began to blow the stuffiness out of the library. The fresh air letting Hermione pull herself together; the shock of how large a job she had now seeming to vanish with the charm that had taken the books away. She pulled her wand out, and banished the furniture to Hagrid's; hoping the pile of desks and chairs wouldn't be too much of a shock, and ran to a window to see if she could check; only to spy an already massive pile of broken items by his hut already. A small pile of wood the other side of it. She smiled to herself, looking back at the hall that now seemed emptier, as distressed footsteps came to a skidding halt by the double doors.
"Oh! Hermione!" McGonagall gasped for the second time that day, staring at the room in flat shock. "I see you managed to get through to Irma," she said, her eyes wide as she regarded the hall with awe. She recovered quickly, and waved her wand, and the tapestries and portraits came away from the walls, the suits of armour pulling themselves to attention and striding out the room. "I'll send you some house-elves." She finished, turning to scurry away after the library's decorations. Hermione pursed her lips, not too pleased with the idea of elves, and turned her attention to the lamps with the glass; only to realise they had vanished. Deducing that McGonagall must have done it she sighed, smoothing her hair back with her hand, and staring at the usually, dark, but welcoming room that she called the library. There were now only ceiling high shelves with in it. She twirled her wrist, and covered her ears as the ear splitting cracks of wood scraping and slamming onto stone echoed about the room. The shelves pulling themselves up, and standing to attention, as several cracks snapped about her ankles.
The house-elves had arrived, and they set to work immediately, spreading about the hall with various mops, dusters and buckets of water. They began clicking their fingers, and Hermione stood hypnotised as extra cloths were charmed into scrubbing the walls, the shelves, and the floor, as the house-elves somehow appeared at the top of the shelves, scrubbing them with all the strength they had in their arms. She was startled out of her daze as a short cough came from behind her.
"Having fun there Granger?" She spun instantly, ignoring the thrill of butterflies that built in her stomach the moment she heard that voice, and smiled.
"Surprisingly; yes." She replied, studying Draco's smirking face, his wintery features somehow bright in the sunlight.
"Well; you are Granger after all." He smirked, stepping forward, and Hermione only then noticed his tail of house-elves, struggling under the weight of desks. "I've a delivery," he drawled, taking note of Hermione's disapproving gaze.
"Put them in the corridor, I don't think I can let anyone place new things in here without the floor being so clean you can see your reflection in them." She said, and the house-elves instantly turned and left, gentle thuds coming from those at the very back as chairs were stacked, and desks placed down, metallic clinks as lamps met the floor. He sniggered, and withdrew his wand in a languid motion, his long fingers wrapping about the handle almost delicately.
"I'll help," he said, pointing his wand at the floor, and a thick fan like shine started to span out from its tip.
"What spell is that?" Hermione exclaimed, staring at the floor in admiration, her own face peering back at her wide eyed.
"Jealous?" He asked cleaning the floor by the doors absently, as the house-elves worked their way down the shelves. Hermione squirmed slightly, and Draco chuckled, the area he had cleaned spreading much wider than Hermione could have imagined, his wand deftly going over where the house-elves had been.
"It's better than house-elves." She found herself saying, and Draco scoffed as a couple of elves over heard her, and looked at her wide eyed in confusion.
"This stupid S. E. W. stuff again?" He sneered, as Hermione turned red.
"It's S. P. E. W! Actually, and yes, I think it's awful the way we treat house-elves like slaves!" She began, placing her hands on her hips as a couple of house-elves visibly stepped away from her; causing Draco to splutter with his amusement.
"For someone with the title, 'Brightest Witch of her Age', you aren't half a bloody insult to it." He said absently, still pointing his wand at the floor, seeing how far the range was with the spell out of mindless interest. "I bet you read up on house-elves, and then totally disregarded what it said deeming it biased, and therefore completely wrong; because you're Granger. How could an entire race of beings actually enjoy house-work and chores?" He mocked, his hand in his suit pocket, his eyes far more interested in his spell than her reaction.
Hermione pursed her lips, biting back a stinging retort, not wanting to fight. A fatigue began to sink into her bones, and she remembered why he'd been so pleasant to her the time before; she'd asked for a truce about Teddy, and it was with shock she realised she wished it was a truce all the time, the desire to actually get to know him had formed in full. He wasn't just a curiosity anymore.
"If you want, I can lend you a book on house-elves, there is even two sides to the argument." He offered, and Hermione paled slightly, trying to search out the sting to his words, the mocking note of laughter; only to find none.
"No, that's ok, you're wrong about why I don't like house-elves working so much." She began quietly, eyeing Malfoy carefully, "I hate how they punish themselves, and how we punish them. They deserve better living environments. I've grown up a bit since I was fourteen, and I understand a lot of what I thought then was wrong, but we still treat them awfully." She defended, her tone level and easy, and Draco smiled slightly.
"I understand." He said simply, and Hermione waited for the mocking to happen, the insults, the baiting laughter.
"Do you?" She asked him curiously, her eyes narrowing at him. Darkness flitted over his eyes that Hermione assumed had nothing to do with house-elves and he nodded, his blond locks falling into his eyes as he looked at her.
"Yes. I understand it's not the way to be, treating another like scum because of what they are." He admitted, and Hermione wished he was talking about muggle-borns desperately, she bit her lip and nodded, realising he'd cleaned a large amount of floor whilst they had been speaking. She picked up a lone mop, and dipped it in water as Draco began to wander off, his wand ahead of him, and his house-elves now slipping in between the Hogwarts ones, cleaning everything they could get their hands on. The top shelves now had a bright gleam to them, the bottom part of the walls somehow bright, as if the paint had also been touched up. She found the cleaning of the library oddly cathartic, the swishing motions of her wand and mop a calming blend for her turbulent emotions, and seeing the floor become shiny ahead of her made her rather proud.
"McGonagall said you're helping fix the school ahead of what you were court ordered." Hermione spoke out of nowhere, turning to look at Draco who was intently staring at the floor.
"Yes," he replied, looking at her defensively, "I have re-stocked the divination classrooms, bought several healing potions for the hospital wing and as you saw earlier, new furniture for the library; I'll be buying new ingredients for the potions store cupboard, as well as new cauldrons. I've also told McGonagall that I will buy all the furniture needed for the eighth year dorm and common room, and the Heads rooms and sitting room. The last part more so that I know where I'll be staying this year is decorated in an acceptable manner." He admitted, but Hermione's jaw had once again fallen open in shock. She'd always known that the Malfoy family was rich, but she'd never really considered the sheer extent of his wealth. He'd treated the fine of three million galleons as if it were nothing, and was now paying thousands more galleons in something he didn't have to do for the school.
"The heads are getting their own room and sitting room?" Hermione asked, suddenly realising what Draco had said, her eyes widening with delight; but slight dread as she wondered who she would have to share the room with.
"Want to decorate your room yourself Granger?" He asked, the smirk re-appearing, "I can organise that." She blinked, hardly registering what he'd said other than hearing it as a confirmation.
"No, no, I'm sure you'll do fine; I'm just more surprised at the head's getting their own space." She told him, still in a little daze. He looked at her, still smirking but without the malice that had been behind it for so many years previous.
"Congratulations on a pleasant living space Granger, any idea who you'll be sharing it with?" He smiled, and Hermione shook her head, chewing her lip with nerves.
"My bets on Longbottom." He told her, nodding his head knowingly. "You don't just behead the snake of the most messed up man this century and not get head boy." Hermione laughed, relieved at the idea of sharing a living space with Neville, but not at the idea of being with him as joint heads.
"As wonderful as Neville is, I don't think he's head boy material, and I think he'd agree with me."
"Alright, who are you hoping for then Granger?" he retorted, but kindly, and Hermione smiled at him as she thought about it properly for the first time since being asked to be head girl.
"You know…I really hadn't thought, I mean, I don't know who is coming back, or who was a prefect before, and what- oh Merlin, what if it's a seventh year as head boy. I mean too many people to wonder about. It's going to be a surprise." She replied as Malfoy looked at her as if she were mental, an amused smirk on his face.
"Who do you think would be the worst person to share a place with then?"
"Goyle." She replied instantly, almost as if she was again under the influence of vertiaserum. Mafoy's eyebrows rose in surprise before he doubled over laughing, a sound so free of his spite that Hermione double took, staring at him with a rush of joy and she grinned at him.
"Why?" He gasped, struggling to get the word out between bellows of laughter.
"I don't think he knows how to function without a babysitter, or exact instructions. I think I'd have to write out how to leave his dorm every morning, along with things like how to wipe his backside. Oh and the mess… I can't even imagine the mess…" she trailed off as Draco stood up to look at her properly, his laughter subsiding, and a flattered expression on his snow white features.
"You're not wrong Granger," he acknowledged, "I'm surprised though, I would have thought you would say me." He said, as Hermione began mouthing in thought, as if realising she hadn't said him. She twisted her mouth, meeting his silver gaze with her own chocolate eyes.
"I would have done a few months ago." She admitted eventually, and Draco nodded in acceptance, not pressing the matter further, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. "Do you think you'll be head boy?" She asked him after a while, and Draco looked at her in shock.
"Seriously? Me? No, won't happen. I managed to scrape my way out of Azkaban, can you imagine how it would look if I were head boy?" He asked her, and Hermione felt something suspiciously like disappointment slip down the back of her throat, over turning her stomach.
"Hhmm, never say never," she replied, turning her watchful gaze to the house-elves who seemed to be relieved that Hermione and Draco were wrapped up in their surprisingly easy conversation, and were cleaning with a speed and magic Hermione had never witnessed before. A quarter of the large hall was now sparkling, the shelves in that quarter almost completely clean, the wood shining from the varnish, and the stones so clear Hermione could fix her hair in them.
"We ought to put in a few desks at least," Draco said, watching her stare at the elves with barely masked amusement.
"Yes," she agreed, following him as he walked out to the corridor. He walked to the first desk, an overly large ornate oak desk, which had been polished into a deep brown colour. She stared at in awe, taking in the tiny owl carvings on the legs, and the intricate swirls for decoration.
"Madam Pince's new desk," Malfoy explained, as Hermione reeled at his wealth once more, staring at the desk with such reverence Draco smirked. "Whenever you're ready Granger," he said finally, his hands tucked under the desk ready to lift it.
"Sorry," she replied, copying him, and together they hoisted the heavy desk into the library, gingerly placing it by the door, exactly where the old one used to be. Striding out of the library, shaking his arms off, he returned moments later with a large; just as ornate chair in his arms. He placed it behind the desk, walking out once more to return with a pair of lamps, one for the desk, and one for just behind the elegant chair.
"You alright Granger?" He asked her, as he set up the lamp on the desk, the deep purple shade matching the chairs satin exactly.
"Exactly how rich are you Draco?" she asked him, ignoring how right his given name tasted as she said his name, her surprise at his buying a desk and chair that fit the feel of the old library so well over riding her senses, and the sheer skill of the carvings of the chair and table making her reel.
"The Malfoy line is very old. When we first came to England with the Norman invasion, we were granted land in Wiltshire from the King, so I think that will tell you all you need to know about what we haven't had to pay for. Also says we were rich when we came here already, not everyone gets to cosy up with a King. Give it a few centuries of wealth just gathering interest, and being in a royal court, and we've more money than we care to think of. As…honest as it is, my fine would have barely dented the Malfoy coffers." He admitted, being far more open to Hermione than she would have expected, and by the way Malfoy was now blinking, his brows slightly knitted, he was feeling the same.
"Huh." Hermione replied, staring at him with surprise. "Next desk?" She continued, and he nodded, almost grateful for the distraction. Together, they moved several desks into the gaps left for them, picking up chairs each with satin cushioning and sliding them in to place, putting lamps at on every desk, just as they had been before. Hermione admired all of his effort; feeling pleased that the library wouldn't look too different, everything had just had a quality upgrade. His thoughtfulness made Hermione think, considering if he'd actually make a great head boy, and if she really was able to get to know Draco Malfoy. Her stomach fluttered with excitement at the thought, and she twisted her mouth curiously. A nagging thought that he was definitely able to challenge her intellectually in a way Ron and Harry had never been able to manage swam about her thoughts. Her thoughts had been constantly swamped with the thought of Draco Malfoy, and she didn't want it to stop. Eventually, they caught up with the house-elves, and the placement of new furniture had to stop, as Madam Pince's orders had been clear. Nothing to be done until the whole place was clean and pristine. Hermione clapped her hands together, as Draco told his elves to continue until the whole hall was clean, and they could have the day off tomorrow once they returned to the remains of the manor. Hermione almost gasped in surprise at that, and the elves began chattering between themselves, their work speeding up.
She turned to him, ready to say goodbye, until he spoke first.
"Granger." He said, looking her in the eye with such a serious piercing expression that Hermione gasped, meeting his questioning gaze tentatively.
"Malfoy." She answered, determined to not shiver under his searching eyes.
"Every time I called you mudblood, how did you feel?" he asked, and she gasped, staring at him wide eyed. His expression didn't change, he watched her, and glued to her every reaction and Hermione blushed.
"The first few times, when I learnt what it meant, it hurt, it upset me, then as I grew older I realised I am who I am. I can't change that, I have to accept it, and when your insult never really made sense to me anyway, it stopped hurting, but not only that, I changed too. You're a bully Malfoy, or maybe you were a bully, you seem…friendly now, but bully's bully usually because they're jealous, or they've been bullied themselves and it's all they know, or because their trying so hard to make something of themselves and this is the only way they can figure out. Bullies have nothing of their own to be proud of. So, you became nothing to me. Why on earth would I allow nothing to hurt me? I stopped caring; I also had more important things to worry about, but…really, you were nothing to me." She shrugged, gauging his reaction as she spoke. His eyes had widened, and he'd become paler than usual, the snow white of his skin becoming a slight grey. He looked as though he'd been sucker-punched, and Hermione felt sympathetic towards him, even though he'd asked her. She smiled kindly at him, and he relaxed slightly.
"I seem friendlier?" he asked eventually, and her smile widened.
"You do, you've barely insulted me, and look at how much time we've had together." She retorted, raising a disapproving brow jokingly, "you're slacking Malfoy, ten points from Slytherin."
He laughed, surprised once more, and grinned.
"Don't abuse it Hermione." He replied, her name sounding like a siren song on his tongue.
"I need to go," she said, feeling ever so disappointed at the time, and he nodded, the sparkle in his eyes dimming.
"I'll see you later." He said almost hopefully, the nagging feeling that he'd been nothing to her causing him to feel rather sick, and for some reason unbalanced. A feeling he couldn't quite fathom filling him with a twisted relief when she said he was friendlier.
"I'd like that," she answered with a coy, curious smile, and left the library.