The Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions
Chapter 8: Notice of Decision
Music: Severus And Lily, Alexandre Desplat (Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows, Pt. II)
Long after the otter-shaped Patronus had slowly dissipated in a glittering mist, Draco continued staring at the spot where the glowing animal form had been. His heart was still racing in his chest. Granger had received his message. What's more, her Patronus had almost immediately returned with her response. She had actually sounded relieved upon hearing from him.
"I couldn't believe my eyes when a silver light filled my bedroom and this familiar ferret appeared with a message for me," her Patronus had whispered. "How on earth did you manage to have your Patronus convey messages...?"
She was clearly impressed by his feat, and it had set his heart alight. He'd felt as if they were back in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and Granger was beaming at him at the smallest amount of progress he'd made with the Patronus spell. He'd almost missed the rest of the message, which had definitely sounded more dejected.
"I feel I must apologise to you. Again," the otter had told him in its tinkling voice. "Especially after all the trouble I've already gotten you into, I feel horrible for not keeping in touch. I've been feeling so guilty for what had happened in the drawing room that I was sure you wouldn't want me to bother you again. After all, I had already placed an inexcusable burden on your shoulders with my demand to see the drawing room and then losing consciousness. I surmised that you would not want to be bothered by me anymore. But I was mistaken. You have the right to know how I'm doing. I'm sorry, Malfoy."
Draco's hand had clenched his wand as he'd listened to the otter. He had not been looking for an apology, but to know how she was doing had a balming effect on him. He finally knew she was fine and that was all that mattered.
"After you brought me home, I slept for twenty-four hours and when I arrived back at the Ministry, everyone was led to believe I had been prey to influenza. Of course, Harry wasn't to be fooled," the otter remarked. "But my speedy recovery was enough to satisfy him."
Draco's face had darkened at this. Perhaps it had been Potter who had advised against contacting him. The man was far too protective of the Malfoy family to his liking. The otter had concluded with a compliment on Malfoy Manor's positive inspection outcome. His view to the notice of intention, however, would not have been taken into account in her message, as it hadn't been sent to the right address and it had merely inquired after one of the inspectors' physical condition. Then the otter had disappeared. Its last words had drawn a small smile to Draco's lips. He imagined the amused sparkling in Granger's eyes when she had conveyed this message.
It took only one moment of hesitation for him to summon his own Patronus. There was one last thing he'd needed to know.
The reply had come just before he'd gone to bed. "It's better now. Sleep well, Malfoy...and thank you for..." The otter had paused as it had begun to disappear. Its last words had been a whispered echo as if it had caught Granger just before it had left. "Thank you."
And Draco had gone to sleep knowing a window of opportunity was still left open.
The next morning, Draco woke up early but well-rested, having fallen asleep with the image of Granger's Patronus in mind. As he looked up at the canopy above him, he acknowledged that he hadn't slept this well for a very long time. He felt calm and peaceful, and the pressure behind his eyes was gone. Blissfully relaxed, he turned towards the murky ray of light peeking through the closed curtains. It would soon be dawn. A rare smile appeared on his features as he jumped out of bed. He felt like going on a quick flight across the estate, which he hadn't done in a long time. He should be back in time to join his parents for breakfast.
Perhaps his mother noticed his lighter step when Draco entered the sun room, fresh and alert after enjoying his ice cold airborne version of a morning walk and a quick shower. Narcissa's cool blue eyes followed her son's energetic movements as he sat down and began to serve himself. She refrained from commenting on it, though, leaving Draco be as he engaged in a serious conversation with his father. There were upcoming fiscal benefits for rich wizarding families who donated substantial amounts of Galleons to charity, sums which could either be deducted from taxes due or from the reparation payments that many Pureblood families - including their family - turned over each month. He made himself a sandwich as he quietly conferred with his father on which of the possibilities would serve their interests best.
Narcissa noticed that the conversation smartened her husband up. A glint of interest appeared in his nowadays dull gaze and he sat up straight. He even gave a nod in approval when Draco got up from the table and announced he had to get to work. As the young man downed the remainder of his tea standing, Narcissa decided to not let him go off this easily.
"Did you have a good night, dear?" she casually asked him as she caught his gaze.
To her surprise, he flashed her a small smile. "Yes, Mother, thank you."
He'd already left before she could ask any further.
The rest of the day Draco spent behind his desk, working his way through the remaining applications. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he sometimes underlined sentences, deciding on which of two piles in front of him to put the applications - those worth considering and those rejected. The clock ticking was the only sound to break the silence in his study. Draco was grateful the piles before him were growing much faster than he'd expected. It was amazing what a good night's rest could do. Having been able to speak with Granger through their Patronuses had put to rest an inner turmoil which had haunted him ever since he'd dropped her at The Burrow. It felt as if he could finally breathe again.
A slight movement near the window caught his attention, and when he looked up his heart skipped a beat. But it had only been a flurry of snow whirling down from the sky. Draco's face set. Having found a means of communicating with Granger had awoken a wistful feeling he was surprised to acknowledge and frankly didn't know if he liked or not. But he was drawn to the idea of continuing a conversation through their Patronus and, for the first time in a very long time, the prospect made him actually look forward to something. The corners of his mouth curled up as he bowed over yet another application letter. It was decided. Tonight he would cast another Patronus.
Much earlier than he normally did, Draco bade his parents good night and went to his bedroom. He locked the door, took off his jacket, and created a sound bubble in the room. A small smile appeared on his lips when the silver ferret appeared at his command and sat up, waiting for Draco to start talking.
"Granger... I hope I don't startle you. If so, I'm sorry. I just... Would you..." His voice trailed away, unsure how to continue. He suddenly felt vulnerable, which was something that didn't sit well with Malfoys. He ran his hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words to say, reminding himself that this was only his Patronus in the room with him.
"I mean, if you don't mind... I would like to ask you...if it's all right with you...if I were to send you a few more Patronus messages...to practice?"
The ferret took his silence for a conclusion of his message and graciously jumped onto the windowsill. Draco didn't stop the animal. Lowering his wand, he slowly lowered himself in a chair as he watched the Patronus leave his bedroom. The message wasn't his most eloquent ever, but again, Draco was uncomfortable with asking favours from others. All he could do now was sit and wait.
Hours later, the young Malfoy still sat in the same position in the dark bedroom, with his arms resting on his legs and his Hawthorn wand pointing to the ground. His grey eyes were fixed on the window where his Patronus had disappeared. As the minutes passed by, he tried not to give in to the hollow feeling that Granger wouldn't respond to his message, but hope slipped away each time his clock chimed.
"Draco Malfoy?"
It was a familiar tinkling voice that broke the silence in the room, and Draco shot up. Before him swam Granger's Patronus. Just when he had finally lowered his gaze to the ground, the otter had appeared before him with another message. A wave of excitement surged through him. He didn't notice that his face lit up in a bright smile as he drank in the sight of the glowing animal form, pulling up its little snout.
"Hermione thinks that's a very good idea and she's happy to help. Your request reminds her of the old times back in school..."
Draco's smile softened. He'd thought exactly the same thing this afternoon when this idea had occurred to him. And it had worked. The former Gryffindor never denied anyone who sought out her help. The prospect of continuing this conversation with Granger filled his heart with joy and even giddiness.
"So..." the otter started enthusiastically, pulling Draco from his thoughts. "Where to start? I always have this problem when starting a letter, and a Patronus message isn't very different from a letter, don't you think?"
Draco amusedly leaned back in his chair. He could almost hear Granger's thoughtful voice as her Patronus spoke. His eyes glistened as Granger's Patronus started telling about the book she was currently reading. It was a safe subject which he was glad to discuss, as he'd also read and enjoyed this particular book. Among other things, he was pleased to learn she liked it, too.
The following evening, their conversation naturally turned to their childhood years, providing Draco with a glimpse of Granger's life before she'd entered Hogwarts. They were surprised to discover that when they were about eight or nine years old, they had spent the Christmas holidays in the same Alpine village in France. Draco's family had been visiting friends of his parents, while Granger had spent the week skiing. After her explanation of the art of skiing, Draco was ready to admit that this was a far better way of spending the holidays in France than staring out a leaded window in an old castle.
The subject of work unexpectedly offered a glimpse into what she expected of life.
"Basically, working with the Ministry is my only option," the otter stated as it swam before him. "Everywhere else, people worship the ground I walk on. Within the Ministry, there are a lot of people affiliated with the Order and they don't put me on a pedestal...as much. I've learned to handle it, but I never will grow used to it."
Draco's thoughts went to the annual ball of the Order, where every year they all bowed in honour of the Golden Trio. Over the years, it had become a customary token of respect, but to him it held a special meaning. He actually felt the need to express his gratitude for their courage to stand up to defeat the darkest threat of all times. Even Weasley. Granger's reservations about this token of appreciation he completely understood though. She wasn't the type of person that enjoyed being revered.
"It sometimes does come in handy, though," the Patronus added optimistically. "It was easier to get permission from the Minister to create the Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions, because of who I am."
In reply, Draco summoned his own Patronus. "What are you going to do after the inspectorate has come to stand on its own feet? I can't imagine that you've reached your main goal after that."
It was a subtle reference to the conversation they'd had seven years ago when they had been squeezed into a school desk together. The idealistic Gryffindor would never stop striving to make a difference in the world from within the Ministry. As if she hadn't already done so. He picked up his book while waiting for her answer. The habit had come into existence over the string of nights in which they had developed this unhurried Patronus conversation. Neither one of them cared to mention that Draco had become really good at creating messenger Patronuses and no longer needed any practice. For Draco, it had become the highlight of his day. The whole day long, he looked forward to that moment he could close the bedroom door behind him and continue their conversation where they had left off the evening before. He liked to think she enjoyed it as much as he did.
When a silver light filled his bedroom, Draco looked up from his book and sat up somewhat. The otter started to speak. "I agree. I haven't reached my goal until house-elves are as free as wizards and goblins are. This labour inspectorate is merely a means to improve the lives of house-elves until that day comes." The otter was silent for a moment and then continued in a softer tone, "The Minister has asked me to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, when my work with the inspectorate is done. I'm thinking of accepting his offer."
She was struggling with this. Draco sensed it without her Patronus conveying the actual words. Already at Hogwarts she had been very vocal in her opinions about the treatment of house-elves in the wizarding society. Back then her stance had angered him, and he'd seen it as proof that Muggle-borns did not have a place in the magical community. But since then he had started to see house-elves and their position in wizarding society in a new light, and nowadays he could understand Granger's moral indignation, even admired her for her tenacity. Dobby had been extremely brave to defy his father like he had done, but Draco knew he had been a rare exception. Perhaps in the foreseeable future, Granger's efforts would give the house-elves enough courage to stand up for themselves.
He summoned his Patronus. "I can imagine that working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement enables you to draft legislation to force families like mine to set free their house-elves."
His dry tone elicited a quick amused smile from the otter when it returned. "Well, yes, I suppose."
"What's holding you back, then?"
If a Patronus could sigh it would be the soft, melodic sound the otter made when it reappeared in his room. "I don't know. I guess I find it difficult to leave the inspectorate behind. It feels like a betrayal, although they have already proven they can handle the task perfectly."
After a moment of consideration, Draco instructed his own Patronus. "You will make the right decision. A little word of advice - don't be afraid to close a chapter when it's ready to be closed. Otherwise, you'll inevitably become embittered by the very thing you want to remember fondly."
He had been telling this to himself when he had started adjusting to his life after Hogwarts, but he'd always known that for him it had been a decoy, a way of trying to forget about the emptiness inside. He had been far from ready to close the chapter that was Hogwarts when the school year had ended. Instead, he'd felt a longing for it to be reopened ever since he'd held Granger in his arms during that fateful night of the inspection visit. And he simply couldn't deny the excitement he now felt during their magically supported conversation.
This time he had to wait longer for her Patronus to appear. "I haven't yet thought about it this way, but I see you're right... I guess you're speaking from experience?"
Draco gave a bitter nod at her perceptiveness, something his ferret couldn't convey to her. He knew she would heed his advice, though, and continue to make a difference in whatever position she would be given in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
He sat up when her Patronus appeared again. "You know, sometimes I wonder how my life would have been had I not entered the wizarding world. I would probably have gone to university, earn a degree..."
As the otter dissolved in a gentle glow, Draco summoned his own Patronus. "What's a university?"
The otter reappeared immediately with her answer. "A university is an institute for academic learning on the highest level, following the completion of a school like Hogwarts. It's something the wizarding world sadly doesn't know. I would probably have continued reading Law at a university if I had stayed in the Muggle world."
Draco pensively rested his chin in his hand. He knew next to nothing about the Muggle world she came from. The notion of going to a university actually appealed to him, and he understood why Granger regretted the absence of one in the wizarding world. It struck him that he'd been so accustomed to Muggleborns wanting to live in the wizarding world and the feeling of superiority he'd been brought up with that it had never occurred to him that she would actually miss the world she'd given up when she was admitted to Hogwarts.
"I never thought about it before," he told his Patronus after summoning him. "But now I realise that you were asked to make a very grave choice when you were only eleven years old. At such a young age you couldn't possibly foresee all of the consequences."
Upon its return the otter said wistfully, "You're right. As a child, I was merely excited about entering this new and fantastic world. I guess it's a bit like emigrating to another country. And while I've never regretted it, I only realised later on that I've left something behind too... But, on a different note..."
The Patronus changed the subject. Granger was curious about his work for the foundation. She wanted to know how he chose the charities to support and what kind of requests he received.
Draco crossed his legs and told her all about it. To amuse her, he included a dry recount of some of the strangest applications he'd ever seen. When the otter returned with her response, he could almost hear her laughter ring through its words. "But you didn't tell me if you granted those requests."
Glad that he'd made her laugh, Draco summoned his ferret and asked, "Would you have granted them?"
Although his question was half in jest, he was actually interested to hear what she would say. The reply turned out a lot more serious than he expected, though. "To promote peace, I would support any initiative; even the Witches' Institute organising a world record of house witches singing Celine Malvaria songs..."
Draco silently nodded to her words. It was just how he felt about it, and it made his heart lighter to know that she agreed. But the otter was not finished yet. "There's one thing more, Draco Malfoy," it said as it had looked at him attentively. "Tomorrow, the inspection results will be published in The Daily Prophet. The paper has been very eager for them to be disclosed. Expect the press hounds to arrive at the Manor very soon."
Draco didn't know why the remark made a shiver run down his spine, but as the otter disappeared, he forgot about the foreboding feeling and got up to close the curtains for the night.
"You look rather cheerful today."
Draco looked up. It wasn't often that someone used that qualification to describe his mood, but judging by Theodore Nott's indulgent smirk, his old friend was serious about it. He shot Theodore a sardonic look as he leaned back in the creaking, old chair and took a sip from his wine.
"It's almost Christmas, Nott. Aren't you supposed to be cheerful these days?"
The Leaky Cauldron was filled with witches and wizards taking a break from their Christmas shopping, and even through the din in the barroom, Draco could hear the carol singers outside. The pub itself was decorated in an uninspired way with dusty old garlands haphazardly hanging from the decayed balconies. Tom the bartender, however, seemed very happy with the result of his creative outburst - every once in a while he looked up with a satisfied, crooked grin on his face.
Draco and Theodore shared a small table in the corner of the cafe - their favourite spot when they met at The Leaky Cauldron. Theodore was still in his work robes, having come straight from work at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was a tall man whose build had lost its stringiness over the years and, despite his still-weak chin, his eyes shone cleverly as he thoughtfully studied Draco. Unlike the Malfoy family, the Notts had been sorely financially tried after the fall of the Dark Lord, and Theodore, who had been shaped for a life of freedom from care, had to start work for a living. He hadn't been daunted by it, though. He was very happy working as a liaison officer for the Ministry.
"Astoria has invited you to her family's Christmas dinner, hasn't she?" he probed. "No wonder you're smiling all the time."
"Don't waffle, Nott," Draco responded, though he couldn't help the grin from breaking through his normally so impassive features. "But you're right, of course." The very prospect, in fact, left him cold, but it was better not to delve into details. Not now. At Hogwarts, Draco had actually considered his Slytherin classmate an equal and sometimes somewhat cleverer. They had become close friends when Theodore, unlike so many other Slytherins, didn't turn his back on Draco after the end of the war, but instead had made a similar choice - to not let himself be fooled this badly ever again. Kindred spirits.
Draco took a sip from his drink and threw a sidewards glance at the civil servant sitting next to him. "And what about you?"
Theodore shrugged. "Oh, the usual. Fancy dinner here, Christmas dance there. I'll be glad to be actually home for Christmas."
For Theodore, home was his small flat in a narrow street off Diagon Alley. His father still had some time in Azkaban to spend, and the Nott family home had been sold to a distant cousin.
Draco knew what he meant. Christmas always was the busiest time of the year for the liaison officers. "Any interesting receptions this year?"
"That depends on the food being served. I've got Togo and China this year. Not too bad, I would think." Theodore smirked and took a sip from his wine. "So..." he added casually. "Has the Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions already notified you about your inspection outcome? I hear Malfoy Manor's results have turned out quite good."
Draco let out an amused laugh. His friend had a knack for knowing what was supposed to remain a secret. "Which you shouldn't have known at all, no less confront me with it," he countered. "Do you need me to remind you of your oath of office?"
"No need. Sound bubbles can do wonders." Theodore shrugged before taking another sip of his wine.
Draco grimaced. He'd thought he'd felt a strange sensation suddenly cloaking him a while ago. Theodore never cared enough to let people know he'd them under a spell.
"So, are you satisfied with the results, then?" Theodore asked, naturally ignoring Draco's displeasure.
The first time Draco had seen Theodore after the inspection visit, he didn't even need to tell his friend about what had happened during this visit. Theodore had of course already known about Hermione Granger having fallen ill at Malfoy Manor. But the clever Slytherin had not been inclined to believe the official version the inspectors had put forward. Carefully and without revealing too many details, Draco had outlined what really had happened to the supervising inspector, knowing that he could trust Theodore. Shaking his head, Theodore had advised Draco to request physically stronger inspectors for the next visit.
"I am satisfied with the results. They are very good, indeed," Draco now established. "It's a good thing for the family name to be associated with something positive."
"Don't you mind all the extra work because of this new labour inspection thing?" Theodore looked at him searchingly, but Draco shook his head.
"It has been rather interesting, in fact," he observed. "Though the elves have given me a hard time convincing them, it's quite fascinating to see them eventually become more satisfied because of it."
"You are taking this far too seriously, Malfoy." Theodore shook his head. "You've become soft."
"No, I'm just noticing the differences," Draco repudiated. "And they are considerably enhancing the atmosphere at the manor."
This made Theodore swallow the snide response and settle for a thoughtful nod instead. For a moment, both men remained silent until Theodore said casually, while studying his glass, "Do you know who looks particularly cheerful at the moment, too?"
"Haven't got the faintest. Do enlighten me, please," Draco responded dryly and let his eyes rest on two scrawny and possibly thirsty wizards opening the door and trying to push an enormous Christmas tree through the door, much to the dismay of an agitated Tom. The corners of his mouth curled up and he stretched his legs before taking a sip from his magically refilled glass.
"Hermione Granger."
Draco's heart stopped but he put down his glass with a deliberate movement, feeling Theodore's sharp gaze on him. As Theodore had already expected, Draco's face remained unreadable, and when he turned to look at Theodore, there was a carefully cultivated expression of proper confusion in his eyes. "I fail to see why this particular piece of information would be of any interest to me?"
Theodore merely shrugged, a vague smile playing around his thin lips. "I thought you would be interested."
In response, Draco raised his eyebrows in a meaningful way, apparently convinced that Theodore must have lost his mind. "What gave me away?" he replied jestingly.
Theodore only smirked at him and as they burst out in laughter, Draco suppressed a relieved sigh before downing the remainder of his wine. At that moment, Theodore nodded at a point before him and said dryly, "The way you're looking at that picture of her on the wall over there."
Draco choked in his wine. A violent cough ripped through him as the burning liquid exploded in his lungs and nose. A feverish colour shot through his pale cheeks, but Theodore had a hard time telling it came from the lack of oxygen or something else.
"You're welcome," he replied in advance as he handed Draco a handkerchief. Then he scrutinised his friend as Draco regained his composure and shot him a deadly look. Theodore's grin widened. "Care to tell me about it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco replied as stiffly as he could with his hoarse voice. It hurt to speak.
Theodore shook his head at this and put down on his glass. "Pity. I was really interested in knowing how that poor little inspector had gotten home after she fainted in your house. You conveniently left out that part of the story, earlier. Though I'm suspecting that your chivalrous character has something to with it..."
When Draco only fixed him with a hard stare, he shrugged. "Very well. Whatever suits you. When you feel ready to tell me, you know where to find me. Though I must say my curiosity has risen to new and very high levels now."
Draco looked positively murderous by now. "I don't..." he started to repeat himself, trying to forget about the fact that once or twice his gaze indeed had been drawn to the young woman in the picture flanking The-Boy-Who-Lived, but Theodore cut him off.
"Yes, yes, I know... Sadly, it's time to go or Tracey will kill me. So, the inquiry will have to wait until...Thursday."
Draco allowed himself a wry smile as he and Theodore said good-bye. The civil servant grinned and tightly wrapped his Ministry-scarf around his neck. "Don't forget to bring that 200 year old Firewhisky you've been bragging about. See you then."
Draco's thoughts trailed back to the conversation with Theodore when his Patronus hopped out of the window as he had been doing for the past two weeks. Theodore was a very observant person, but even he couldn't fathom the ongoing and highly personal conversation between him and Granger through Patronus messages. By now they had reached a level where they were discussing life expectations and hopes and dreams for the future. Draco was shocked to learn that Granger seemed to be as lonely as he was, and now he understood the forlorn look in her eyes at the Order ball earlier this year. Had it been only weeks ago that he'd wished for an opportunity to speak with her and tell her that he was there for her if she needed him?
He took in a deep breath and summoned his Patronus. "Sometimes it helps to talk about it."
"I know," the otter admitted when it appeared before him. It blinked and Draco knew this meant that Granger had looked away to compose her thoughts. But then the Patronus suddenly disappeared.
Draco immediately summoned his Patronus, cursing himself for having been this blunt. "I didn't mean to put pressure on you. I only want you to know that I'm here if you wanted to say more on the subject. In the meantime...do you intend to go to the Christmas ball of the Wizards' Service Organisation, too?"
And the affirmative reply made him go to bed a happy man after all.
The following evening, a question popped into Draco's mind when he was about to send away his Patronus with a reply. "What Patronus does Potter have?"
He added the question on impulse, and the ferret jumped away before he could rethink his words. Surprised, Draco stared at the dark night sky as he wondered where the question had come from. It certainly hadn't been on his mind before. Many minutes passed, and Draco had already begun to doubt if he would hear from her again for the night. But then the otter appeared before him. Perhaps his question had surprised her, too, but she refrained from commenting on it.
Instead the otter's melodious voice answered, "A stag. Harry's Patronus is a stag."
Draco considered this piece of information. A proud animal, he found. And very appropriate for the heroic Gryffindor. A bitter smile tugged at his lips for a moment as he summoned his own Patronus and the ferret appeared. But as the small animal looked up at him expectantly, he remembered what Granger had said to him seven years ago in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. 'The ferret is related to the otter.'
His features softened. Somehow, it felt right that his Patronus resembled Granger's. "And the Weasel?"
The otter returned soon with her reply. "It's Ron Weasley, Malfoy, and his Patronus is a Jack Russell terrier."
Draco nodded, ignoring the reprimand. Stubborn, loyal, and overly impulsive. Also an animal prone to hunting otters. Sounded like the Weasel to him. He hesitated, reluctant to let go of the subject, to let go of her for tonight, though it was almost time for bed. He summoned his Patronus one last time as he searched his memory for people he expected to possess even slightly interesting Patronuses, but above all - would tempt her to keep on talking. A memory drifted to the surface and he hesitantly instructed his Patronus. His question sounded strangely subdued. "What about...Snape?"
Perhaps it was only his imagination, but it seemed like the otter took a little while longer to arrive with the answer. "It was a doe."
Draco blinked in surprise, before sending off his Patronus. "A doe? That doesn't sound much like Snape."
He didn't know what he'd expected, but not a deer. The notion actually intrigued him beyond his initial objective to keep Granger talking some while longer. He started to wonder about the circumstances.
Granger's reply, however, was as mysterious as it was sad. "He loved her very much."
"Who?" She had lost him there.
"Lily Evans Potter. Harry's mother. Her Patronus was a doe."
Draco's eyes widened. Potter's mother? Professor Snape, Professor Severus Snape had loved Potter's mother? He sat up in his chair. The young Malfoy had the feeling that he had touched upon something very important. Something he had never understood about Potter before. He began to summon his Patronus to ask Granger about the specifics when the otter already appeared before him.
"It's a really sad story," the animal softly explained. "They knew each other from before Hogwarts. It was Professor Snape who introduced Lily, who was a Muggle-born witch like me, to the magical world and explained to her why she could do such strange things. They were the best of friends even after Snape was sorted into Slytherin and Lily into Gryffindor."
The otter paused for a moment and as he rested his elbows on his knees listening to Granger's Patronus, Draco found that his heart was pounding in his chest.
"That was," the animal continued, "until Snape got obsessed with the Dark Arts and destroyed their friendship and whatever possible future they might have had together. He turned her down and called her a Mudblood, even when she tried to protect him from Harry's father and Sirius bullying him."
Her quiet words had his head spinning. All of a sudden, many things about Potter became clear to him, such as Snape's fierce hatred toward the boy, which had always come in quite handy but which Draco had never really understood. Until now. He sent off his Patronus for the last time to bid Granger a good night and went to stand by the dark window. There was so much information in Granger's explanation that he felt the need to think it over. The former Gryffindor had used only a few words to point out that many escalations during the war had actually resulted from strings that had been woven long before the beginning of that very war. And he realised how little he still knew about these connections both his parents and the Dark Lord had left him in the dark about at the time.
As he closed the curtains, Draco also couldn't help but notice a certain awkward similarity between Snape and Potter's mother and Granger and himself. Hadn't Granger's words sounded a bit wistful when she told him the story of their estrangement? And hadn't he himself, at a very low point in his youth, called Granger a Mudblood? But whereas Snape and Potter's mother had started out as friends and had grown apart later on, with him and Granger it was quite the opposite. Draco shook his head, reminding himself that history often repeated itself, but never quite the same.
"Mr. Malfoy. Very pleased to find you home. I'd like to congratulate you on Malfoy Manor's recent laudatory inspection outcome. May I ask you a few questions about that?"
Draco grimaced when he heard the eager voice magically sound through the hallway and secretly thanked Granger for warning him beforehand. Today was the day the inspection results were published in The Daily Prophet, and the newspaper's response was immediate. He instructed one of the house-elves to let the reporter in and take him to his office, where he gave him a cool welcome. Clearly overwhelmed by the splendour of Malfoy Manor, the man lowered himself into one of the elegant armchairs in Draco's study and conjured his questions from his titbit worn robes. Draco surveyed his movements with resignation, but when the man started asking the questions on his list, he answered them politely.
What his reaction had been when he heard Malfoy Manor had come out on top of the Ministry's list.
"I wasn't aware of this being a competition," Draco mildly reprimanded the reporter before underlining that he recognised the importance of improving the working conditions of house-elves. The reporter bowed his head under Draco's cool gaze and went on with his questions. They were unremarkable and easy to dodge. How the house-elves were doing – good; how they liked the new Ministry's nosiness on their behalf – you should ask them; and the reporter began to realise he wouldn't be getting any juicy quotes out of Draco this way.
He paused and then changed his tack. "This is a level of meddling in your affairs by the Ministry you probably haven't experienced before. What's your opinion about that?"
Draco silently watched the reporter, gauging the scrawny man's intentions. It was clear that he was looking for a Pureblood sneer at the Ministry, and the Malfoy heir didn't like it. Did this press hound really think that this transparent question would make him put the fragile reputation of his family on the line? His face set as he responded with a politically correct, noncommittal response. The reporter's quill wrote it down, but of course he wasn't satisfied. Three other fruitless attempts at eliciting an interesting answer from Draco followed before the reporter finally gave up and thanked him for the interview. He let his notes, taken with a hexed quill, disappear and stood up.
Draco followed his example, glad that it was over. His thoughts trailed to Granger and, though the evening had yet to come, he longed to discuss the reporter's visit with her now. Caught up in his thoughts, Draco returned to his desk and didn't notice when the reporter lingered at the door.
"There's one more thing, Mr. Malfoy. This whole thing is an initiative of Hermione Granger, who's famous for striving for equal rights for Magical Creatures. She's one of your former classmates from Hogwarts, isn't she?"
Draco remained standing behind his desk and rested his fingers on the leather blotting mat, his eyes narrowing. 'She's famous for a lot more than that, you insolent little...' he thought as he looked at the man with disgust. There was no point in denying the obvious though, except -
"I don't see where this is relevant." Draco's already cold voice turned freezing at the reporter's question, but this time the man was not daunted.
"Other families tell that she has been part of the inspection team. Did she visit Malfoy Manor, too?" He squinted his watery eyes, looking back at the young Malfoy to see his reaction. He got nothing, though, as Draco's features remained impassive.
"Hermione Granger was part of the inspection team," Draco confirmed formally, "but as I said, I don't see where this is relevant to the subject at hand." A little vein near his temple started to pulsate, and his voice took on a warning tone. "If we're done-"
Anybody else would have taken the hint, but not this reporter from The Daily Prophet. The uninviting prospect of returning to his shabby office at the newspaper without any interesting quote made him bold. And he felt that somehow there was something about this story that spiked his attention. The reporter narrowed his eyes. "I believe this the first time your paths have crossed since you both repeated your seventh year at Hogwarts. I've been told you hung around quite a lot with each other that year even though you were the admitted opponent of Harry Potter during the war."
Draco's eyes flashed with anger and his hands tightened around his desk. Noticing Mr. Malfoy's reaction, the reporter smiled. He got something. "Isn't it so that Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were held hostage in this house by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Was it because of this that she came back to the house?"
Draco clenched his jaw and drew on all of his restraint to not throw the reporter from his office. This was first class muckraking journalism. The scrawny man was sticking his nose in things he didn't understand. Draco didn't know where his information came from, but he did know that he had to get rid of him as soon as possible.
Reeling in his fury, Draco straightened to his full height. "I'm sorry. I believe I've answered your questions on the inspection results to your satisfaction. I can confirm that Hermione Granger was part of the inspection team, and I suggest we leave it at that." Menace dripped from his authoritative tone, and the accompanying glare could have curdled milk.
The scrawny reporter swallowed, knowing it was his cue to leave. All in all, the interview had taken less than half an hour, and now Draco stood at the window, looking down on the man walking toward the gate with a dark expression on his face. Then he turned around and determinedly spoke the incantation. "Expecto Patronum."
"Draco Malfoy."
Draco gulped and shot up straight at the tinkling voice jolting him back to reality. Next to the chair in which he'd fallen asleep floated a silver otter, looking at him serenely as it waited for him to recover.
"Hermione," he sighed and raked his hand over his face to clear his thoughts. He took a peek at his watch. Eleven thirty. Almost midnight.
"Hermione is sorry for the late reply to your message. She summoned her Patronus as soon as she got home from work. If she woke you, she hopes you can forgive her." The animal tilted its little head and looked at Draco expectantly.
"Of course," he mumbled a little curtly. His grey eyes shone with anticipation.
"Hermione wishes to thank you for the message. She says that it's clear that some things will never change for the better, like The Daily Prophet."
Draco's lips curled in a smile, but the otter bowed its little head. "Hermione isn't surprised about the questions asked, though. Her private life has been subject to speculation for a while now."
Underneath the otter's ethereal voice, Draco could hear the sadness of her words. He knew what she was talking about. Lately, The Daily Prophet had run quite a lot of features on the possible break up between her and the Weasel. He wasn't surprised. From what little information the otter had given him on their relationship, Draco had gathered that they were beginning to pay for the differences in intellect and interest between them.
The otter came closer. "In the end, it seems that we're trying to meet what life expects from us, rather than fulfil our own expectations of life." The otter sounded incredibly lonely, and Draco's face darkened. He had resigned to this realisation a long time ago while working his hopes and dreams around it. Only during his repeat year at Hogwarts had he felt as if the expectations of the world and his own expectations had aligned.
"Tell me," the otter whispered. "Why do I seek support from someone who's not my friend in any sense of the word, rather than the one who has known me for years?"
Draco grimaced, though he knew that she didn't regret their conversation by messenger Patronus. And it was true. To the outside world they were acquaintances at best.
The otter's voice softened. "Sleep well, Draco Malfoy. Hermione is sorry to have bothered you with this question."
The next moment, the otter had disappeared. For a moment, Draco watched the spot where Granger's Patronus had floated in the air as he massaged his temples. Then he picked up his wand from the floor and spoke the incantation. "Tell her...it's because I understand."
The following morning, Draco determinedly set course to the kitchen, hoping to intercept today's newspaper before it would be sent up. The house-elves looked up in surprise when Master Draco appeared in the kitchen and took the ironed The Daily Prophet from the silver platter. His face was tense when he opened the newspaper and scanned the headlines. Then his grey eyes came to rest on the article on page three. A single strand of pale blond hair fell over his forehead as he bent over to read the piece on the Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions. It was a relatively small article, and an old picture of Malfoy Manor crowned the headline: "Results First House-Elves Labour Inspection Made Public". A smaller headline underneath it stated "Excellent Reports For Hogwarts And Malfoy Manor".
So far so good, Draco thought as his wary eye caught the inset that contained an official Ministry picture of Granger and a brief history of the new labour inspectorate. His eyes sped over the lines and stopped when the journalist introduced Mr. Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune and known philanthropist. What followed was a surprisingly faithful account of his answers.
Draco slowly straightened up and, relieved, he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. This was not nearly as bad as he'd feared. Perhaps the journalist had taken his unforgiving attitude as a warning. And rightfully so. He made a movement to close The Daily Prophet when he felt a small tug on his sleeve.
"Master Draco, Sir. Squeaky has ironed the newspaper for the Mister and Mistress," the house-elf piped. "And Squeaky saw that things are written about Master Draco in the newspaper today."
"You're right, Squeaky, but it's only the interview I gave the other day," Draco responded favourably and turned to leave the kitchen when a leathery hand stopped him.
"Not in the home news section, Master Draco," the house-elf said with more emphasis, his large eyes looking at him pleadingly. "But in the gossip section."
The swear word escaping Draco's lips made the house-elf bow its head in regret. Assuring him he hadn't done anything wrong, the young Malfoy hastily and with a foreboding feeling opened the gossip section. Then he paled. Amidst a loud collection of articles on showbiz wizards and witches, he saw an article that made his heart sink. It was introduced by an ominous headline in underlined chocolate letters: "Could It Be Possible...?" Underneath was a group photograph taking during a ball he and Granger both had attended some two years ago. What followed was a long piece on their troubled past and their repeated seventh year at Hogwarts. The journalist had dug up a few former students of Hogwarts who had been willing to state that they had seemed rather close that year, which hadn't even been possible since the only times the other students had seen them together had been those few times in Potions Class, when Ginny Weasley had been unable to attend.
Draco looked at his own picture in dress robes as he stared into the lens seriously, before the image's gaze was drawn to the radiant witch in a beautiful dark blue dress, standing in the row below him. Though his gaze had been indifferent enough, he imagined that readers must see the yearning dripping from his features. His horrified gaze came to rest upon the closing sentence of the wretched article: "Have Miss Granger's Good Intentions For The Improvement Of Elfish Labour Conditions Turned Into A Means Of Getting Back In Touch With Her High School Sweetheart?"
Draco scowled as he forcefully closed the newspaper. This was bad. Really, really bad. He couldn't care less about what people might think after reading this article, but it was Granger's reaction he feared the most. What if she cut off their hesitantly-renewed contact after reading this? He had left school in acceptance of the knowledge that their hesitant bond had only been temporary, but the moment she'd appeared on his doorstep asking for help, he'd realised how much he'd missed her company. By now, he couldn't imagine life without the frequent visits of her Patronus anymore.
"Master Draco." The house-elf's squeaky voice pulled him from his thoughts. "A letter has arrived."
He looked up to see the owl jumping from the windowsill and fly away.
"It's from Miss Astoria."
Granger's Patronus arrived only two hours after Astoria's letter, carrying the message he had feared the most. Disappointment, fury, and sadness were raging inside him as Draco resignedly listened to the Patronus. He clenched his fists as the otter's words sank in. Of course, he had expected as much. It was only natural. The accusing gaze of the entire world had come to rest upon Harry Potter's friend, who seemed to be cheating on her boyfriend with none other than their former nemesis. And her response was utterly understandable. She had some serious damage control to do. Protect the vulnerable, new inspectorate she had created, restore the trust of the world in the brains of the magical Golden Trio, and save her relationship with the moronic redhead. It couldn't be more clear. For one irrational moment, he had hoped that she wouldn't give up on him, wouldn't care about what impression that press hound had given of them both in his poisonous article, but she did after all.
"Hermione is very sorry about this, but she sees no other way," the Patronus said regretfully. "Patronuses can be intercepted, and it's too much of a risk to stay in contact with everyone watching her every step. Please, do know that it hurts her deeply to do this and that she will miss seeing the silver ferret more than you'll ever know."
Then the otter disappeared. For a moment, Draco kept staring at where the otter had been floating before him, an empty look in his eyes, but then his features contorted with anger and grief. He blindly grabbed a precious vase within his reach and with a silent cry threw it into the wall. The sound of porcelain breaking into a thousand pieces was heard throughout the entire manor.
The days and weeks following the publication of the article in The Daily Prophet went by in a blur as Draco worked to keep other reporters at bay and appease a furious Astoria. He thankfully found some distraction in his work for the foundation, which provided him with some much needed stability in his life.
Meanwhile, a string of new publications fuelled the speculations on the assumed relationship between him and Granger. Each and every article led to new and reproachful glances from his mother. The worst thing was that he had to undergo it while having lost contact with Granger. He often couldn't sleep at night and developed a habit of conjuring a Patronus to distract himself. He would keep the ferret around until he grew tired from performing the advanced magic and imagined sending it off to Granger. Pathetic, but it helped him get some semblance of a night's rest. And while it hurt that Granger seemed to have given up on him so easily, Draco suspected that things would be worse for her. He knew he had the luxury of awaiting the end of the storm in his secluded house in the countryside, his reputation already in shambles as it was, whereas for Granger there was no hiding from the attention nor the judgment.
Knowing that he couldn't do anything to support her except keep his head down, Draco stuck to his daily routine and tried not to think of Granger. This was essentially impossible, since the first article had only been the beginning of an endless stream of follow-ups on their suspected relationship. Every day, Draco came across old pictures in the newspaper of the two of them having been coincidentally photographed together, most of the time while attending a social event with a larger group of people. They had even managed to dig up pictures from their school days at Hogwarts he didn't even know existed. Such as the blurry picture of their fourth year Yule Ball. At that time Hermione Granger had even Draco Malfoy looking at her wistfully when fate had put them in that blasted choral dance together. The image actually struck a melancholic chord with Draco. The photographer had captured the moment where her hand had left his to move up to her next dance partner and his gaze had followed her moving away from him instead of focusing on the Hufflepuff girl turning in. They were both so young in the picture, she had looked so beautiful and he had been so stupid.
A far more unpleasant surprise were the pictures taken during their eighth year at Hogwarts. Of course, he had never taken into account Dennis Creevey, the younger brother of that small Gryffindor who had died in the war. The equally small boy had still been in school when both he and Granger had returned to Hogwarts for their eighth year. And apparently he'd taken up photography as a hobby in his brother's memory. The scrawny Gryffindor had taken a picture of them when they had been on their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom for Patronus lessons. In violation of his bedtime curfew, he must have been secretly following Granger, whom his brother had adored.
The moment he'd first seen the picture, Draco's breath caught for a second. It depicted them standing next to each other in one of the corridors close to the Ravenclaw Tower. Mysterious moonlight, filtered by ancient dust, highlighted Granger's pretty face angled toward him, her eyes level with the Slytherin badge on his school robes. They were standing rather close to each other, and Draco's hand seemed to be resting on Granger's back as he looked down on her gleaming curls with an expression of infinite peacefulness on his features. Their eyes would eventually meet in quiet understanding. It was an almost ethereal scene in the stately, historical corridor - a Slytherin and a Gryffindor seeking each other out on neutral grounds. Above the photograph the headline read "Is This Why Hermione Granger Picks Draco Malfoy Over Ronald Weasley?" Another one of Dennis Creevey's photographs was published underneath, showing Draco and Granger during Potions class with a steaming cauldron in front of them. This picture Draco recognised. It had been taken for the school newspaper, but in this particular context the image gained a totally different meaning.
The next day, The Daily Prophet reported Weasley and Granger's break-up.
When Draco read those lines, he gritted his teeth and had to fight off the urge flaring up inside of him to summon his Patronus and reach out to her. The last thing she needed now was more trouble on her hands, but Merlin, he wanted to seek her out and comfort her so badly. And also apologise to her for unwillingly remaining under the lee of her protecting shadow.
"Master Draco, Sir," the house-elf piped up hesitantly, hands wringing nervously to the sound of a bell ringing. "Mr. Malfoy's asking for the newspaper, Sir."
The looks his father and mother gave him over breakfast Draco endured with feigned indifference, but when his father had one of the house-elves discard the newspaper in the litter bin, he took his wand and cut both pictures from the gossip section.
The days following the publication of the school pictures the newspaper were flooded with letters to the editor from witches arguing whether Granger should either choose him or Weasley. They turned Draco's stomach. Finally, after weeks of speculation but finding nothing worthwhile to base their theories upon, the press grew tired of writing about the supposed relationship between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, and their attention shifted toward the pregnant lead singer of the Wicked Witches who had betrayed her husband with some professional Quidditch player. The storm was over.
Five weeks had passed since Malfoy Manor had received the inspection team from the Ministry and, as the media storm was dropping, the winds of the weather grew tired too. Instead, a freezing cold entered to see off the old year. It was one week until Christmas, and the Malfoy family received a notice of decision on the discontinuation for at least two years of further inspection visits from the Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions. The two pages long letter confirmed in dry officialese what Draco in his heart had already known - she really wasn't coming back. The blow had been expected, but Draco's hands started to tremble as he stared at the lines with unseeing eyes. His last hope of seeing her again had been crushed. A small, pained groan escaped him as he faced the inevitable, the excruciating hurt ripping through him leaving his ears ringing. It took several minutes to calm his ragged breathing, while a new expression of disgust settled on his features.
"Enough." His voice sounded strange to his ears as if coming from outside of him and with decisive movements, he folded the letter and filed it, his face becoming a mask of impassiveness once more. Enough was enough.
A/N: As always many thanks go to my beta Crimson Eyed Sakura for her wonderful work on this story. Thanks so much for reading!