Chapter 5
She hadn't said anything to anyone since that day when she saw Malfoy leaving the bathroom.
Not that she was sure what she would say to anyone. It wasn't that she knew anything definite. Or that was anything to even say. Just because he looked shocked coming out of the bathroom was hardly suspicious. Hell, there were several number of things which could cause him to be stressed. They were in school after all, and Merlin knew she spent the majority of her time stressing about something or the other.
It certainly didn't help his case that his father was in Azkaban, and that his mother was left alone at home. Especially from what she gathered of pureblood traditions, it would make Malfoy the acting head of his family for the time being.
She certainly had no sympathies for Lucius Malfoy, not after his part in the attack on the Ministry in sixth year. But Draco was a different story. He was a prat, yes. A prejudiced prat who probably wouldn't hesitate to curse her if given the chance. But he wasn't a Death Eater; he couldn't be.
It wasn't as if she were talking to either Harry or Ron; they weren't fighting per say, but she felt tense whenever Ron was around. Years of unresolved tension between the two of them, combined with his jealousy over her past relationships made it difficult for her to be around him without the two of them breaking out into a fight.
At times she wondered if it was worth it. A relationship with Ron almost was expected with their history. She did care for him enough, they had a friendship after all. And she certainly didn't feel the same way for him as she did Harry, whom she viewed to be a brother-like figure to her. But when they fought, she wanted to hex his brains out. She got so angry with him, that she wished she never had to see him again. Especially when he seemed to be unreasonable.
Wasn't it almost better to stay away from him, and from a chance of a relationship? Their friendship was fragile enough as it was, was a relationship really worth it?
She sighed to herself, as she tried to concentrate on the lecture, but her eyes kept drifting over to where Malfoy was sitting. She couldn't help but wonder what was going on with him. Something was eating away at him, and she couldn't help but be curious as to what it was. He wasn't the same as the person they had known in the past, that much was for sure.
She hadn't made any attempts to contact him over their pending assignment. What was the point when he had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to work on it separately? She knew better than to push someone who wanted nothing to do with her.
She had maintained a peaceful relationship with him in the sense that neither had hexed each other yet this year, and she certainly didn't want to push that now. Not with everything else that was going on in both of their lives.
She figured that she could always just do the assignment herself; it would hardly be the first time she had completed a group project because her peers had left her with all the work. It was hardly the first time someone had expected her to do everything and let them ride on her grades.
She knew Ginny wanted to talk to her later, and she had a feeling the youngest Weasley needed help in her pursuits of Harry. Thankfully the girl seemed to have grown up considerably from the young girl who idolized him, so talking to her wouldn't be difficult. Not when all Ginny would have to do was treat Harry like a person and not a celebrity as the rest of the female population kept trying to since his name had been cleared by the Ministry. She hadn't had many female friends growing up or at Hogwarts, and it was almost nice to have someone to talk to who weren't boys.
At that moment, Malfoy glanced upward, and his eyes met hers. She dropped her glance quickly, realizing she had been caught staring. When she looked back up, she met his eyes once more, and his expression was unreadable.
Hermione took a deep breath, as she looked up at Professor Vector, forcing herself to listen to the lecture, and not stare at the blond who seemed to be staring at her now.
Draco sipped his cup of earl grey as he glanced at the reports in front of him. He closed his eyes, wondering just how long the day would drag on until he could go home.
His mind had been restless since the night before when he and Hermione had talked about their pasts, and he couldn't concentrate, no matter how hard he tried to do so.
The two of them had barely talked about their relationship after the war; he had been so busy trying to turn his life around, and the last thing he wanted was to begin a relationship with the war heroine, knowing how it would make him look; like he was trying to put on a good image and chance the public perspective of him. And she deserved far better than that. She deserved someone who would love her and provide for her; someone who would care for her unconditionally without any hesitations. So when she had gotten together with Weasley, he hadn't protested; didn't she deserve happiness after everything she had gone through? He could accept it as long as she was happy.
It was probably why all his relationships had failed since then; how could any succeed when he was still in love with her? When he probably always would be?
But he could settle for being her friend if it meant having her in his life. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn't give her up completely. Not when seeing her made his heart soar; not when she meant everything to him.
But she was married and had a kid, so he knew just of little of a chance he stood with her. He didn't expect her to magically come running to him after leaving Ron, saying she was wrong and he was the only one for her. He wasn't that delusional. Hell, he'd have to get his head checked at St Mungos if he were.
He picked up the next report from one of the several confidential informants they had on the street as he glanced through it. The confidential informants were meant to bring them any news of what was happening in all the back alleys so that the Ministry could keep tabs on all of it. It had been something instated by Kingsley, trying to ensure that they never got to the level Voldemort had ever again because the Ministry of Magic was playing dumb so they didn't have to deal with the consequences.
Looking over the report, he found his eyes narrowing, as the paper mentioned several references to rumours of a darkness spreading. There were mentions of dark curses being used, paired with murmurs of bringing back the society that the world "should have had, and will have in the near future"; mentions of a pureblood dominant society.
That paired with the dark magic they had encountered in the Forbidden Forest could not be a coincidence. Draco knew better than that to hope otherwise.
He frowned as he stood up and wordlessly passed the report to Harry, to allow his partner to read it and share his thoughts.
"This isn't good," Harry said, as his eyes moved over the pages of the report, "This isn't good at all."
"Merlin knows that several of the prominent Death Eaters evaded capture," Draco said softly, "They could have been biding their time, waiting for the Ministry to be less on high alert. We're far harsher with uses of Dark Magic now, yes, but you have to admit that we've relaxed on the search to capture all the outstanding Death Eaters."
"I know," Harry let out a stream of air, "If this is right, it means that it's probably not random. Something big is going to be coming our way. We need to be ready for it."
"I'll alert the Minister of Magic," Draco said, rubbing his eyes. It was going to be a long day, and if they were right, work would become especially tense over the next little bit as they attempted to figure out just what was happening in the Wizarding World, and who was responsible. They had finally reached some sort of peace where people were no longer afraid to leave their homes, and blood purity was hardly something that people would bring up these days. The last thing any of them wanted was to go back to an era of terror like when Voldemort had ruled.
The last thing he wanted was for people like Hermione to be in danger once more.
Kingsley frowned as he glanced at the report that Draco Malfoy had dropped off in front of him, knowing fully well what it meant. It was at times like this where he sometimes questioned why he had accepted the job when it had been offered to him. He had never expected that one day he would be Minister of Magic, and with Voldemort rising, he had no such thoughts of the matter.
If someone was attempting to use dark magic, then the results couldn't be good.
He wasn't ignorant enough to believe that dark magic itself was the cause of their problems. Dark magic had been deemed dark due to the barbaric seeming nature of some of the spells, such as the use of human blood, or the affect it can have on others. It was magic that was used for the purpose of harming others directly, or for further gains in their own life. But the magic itself was just magic. It was the user who carried the actions of the spell and released it.
And if someone was attempting dark magic, using magical creatures, and trying to gain an underground following, it wasn't all that much of an assumption that they were using the magic for purposes that were most likely impure.
He wouldn't be able to hide what was happening for long, nor did he think he should. There would be a panic yes, but didn't the population deserve a government that was honest with them. They had lied about Voldemort, and painted Harry as a liar. How many lives could have been spared if they were honest about what was happening?
But it would be all about how they spun the story; it couldn't be about fear, but rather their strength. The wizarding world had survived Voldemort. They would be able to survive the poorly imitated threat in front of them, and they would fight it together. To say that the world did not hold prejudice would be wrong, but the world had a better understanding of both sides. Those with a 'higher' blood status had come to understand that they were all just the same. And even if they preferred to marry those of a similar status, it was hardly the same as mass murder.
They would get to the bottom of whatever it was happening in the wizarding world, and put a stop to it once and for all. They would fight this together, regardless of what opposition they had faced.
Hermione sighed to herself as she glanced at the clock on the wall, which read that it was shortly after seven. She really hadn't wanted to stay late today; not with the arguments she had been having with Ron lately. She just wanted to go home and see her daughter, not sit at her desk doing paperwork. She just wanted to be able to relax.
But alas that wasn't what was meant for her today. She had several new pressing cases come her way, and despite not wanting to, she had no choice but to look them over the notes her juniors had given her for their prosecutions and approve them before they argued the cases in court.
She should have been annoyed at them for giving it to her so late, but when everyone was constantly busy with cases and trying to finish several tasks at once, it was hard to fault them. She knew the life of a workaholic better than anyone.
She found herself wondering about her parents, and how they managed to get such a clear separation of work and their home life. They had never left her longing, but had always made it clear that they valued their work.
And she was envious of their relationship; they both mutually understood each other, they both cared for her.
She missed them; that much was certain. But missing them didn't change the fact that they didn't want anything to do with her. Missing them didn't change the fact that they didn't want to even meet their granddaughter, if they were even aware that they had one. She wasn't entirely sure they didn't just burn the letters they didn't send back to her. So there was a very good chance they had no idea at all that they were grandparents.
She gathered the stack of papers and neatly placed it on a corner of her desk as she stood up and grabbed her bag. There was no point trying to do anything else today, not when she could tell she was losing focus with every passing moment. So what was the point in pushing herself further that she knew she could handle?
When she got home, she could see all the lights were dark, despite the time of day. She knew Ron often stayed up at least until 9, if not to wait for her, but to drink to himself. So for the lights to be dim worried her slightly. It was nearing Rose's bedtime, but it was often left to her to put her daughter to sleep. So had Ron done so, and headed to bed himself? She knew it was highly unlikely, as Ron rarely did so, but what were the alternatives?
She entered the sitting room, and the stench of firewhisky filled the air. While their house often smelled like alcohol, it was rarely to this extent, and that in itself worried her. It was almost as if someone had doused the room in alcohol.
Which wouldn't be safe for Rose if she were in the room.
She spotted him almost immediately, with a bottle of firewhisky in his hand, the contents poured out onto the floor, as he lying out on the couch.
But that wasn't what concerned her most; it was the shattered bottle on the ground, glass scattered everywhere, as Rose was playing only a metre away. It was the fact that if her daughter leaned over or decided to stand up and walk to get something, she could be cut by glass. It was the fact that Ron had endangered their daughter so recklessly.
Her heart almost stopped at the sight, and she found herself rushing to pick up her daughter, lifting her from the area.
"You finally came home, did you?" Ron slurred slightly, as he stood up, stumbling. "Clean this up, 'Mione. Then make me dinner."
She used her wand to vanish away the glass and the spilled firewhisky, before turning to face her husband.
"How could you, Ron?" she said, trying to keep her tone steady to not frighten Rose. "What if she got hurt? What if she had drank some of the alcohol accidently? What if she had cut herself on the glass? How could you do this? What kind of father is so reckless that they would be so careless?"
He snorted, "You're one to talk. At least I'm here, Hermione. At least I care enough to ensure my daughter grows up knowing who I am. When was the last time you were home to make dinner? You're not so perfect yourself, despite what you may believe. Don't preach to me about being a good parent."
"I would never do anything to hurt her," Hermione said, in disbelief. "Do not blame this on me, Ronald. I put her to sleep and get her ready in the morning. I make sure she's well fed for dinner, as you can't even bother to put together a sandwich. I take her to play dates and I make sure she doesn't doubt my love for her. Do not say I'm an absent mother. You're the one who can't be bothered to do anything for her. When was the last time you as much as told her you loved her?"
He reached up and slapped her before she could react, and she felt her face sting at the blow.
"That's the problem isn't it?" He said, frowning at her, "At the end of the day, I'll never be as good as you or Harry. You'll always be disappointed in me."
She didn't say anything, shocked still, as her mind raced.
She had begged him to quit drinking years ago, but he hadn't listened to her worries. It wasn't the first time she had been harmed by him either. And despite how much she was starting to doubt her marriage, none of that mattered as much as the fact that Rose could have had a serious accident because of her husband. None of it mattered as much as Rose. She could have her doubts all she wanted, but Rose as endangered because of her husband.
And she wanted to believe that he could change, but if anything, he was only getting worse and worse. If anything, he had proved that he didn't care enough to change.
So as Ron stumbled toward her once more, she took a step back and raised her wand, "Don't make me use this, Ron Weasley. I've had enough of this. I've had enough of you and your alcoholism. I've had enough of your abuse. I won't let you ever hurt Rose, and honestly, if I stay in this house, I'm not sure that she won't be hurt. So I'm going to leave, and take my daughter with me."
His face grew red, and he said, "You can't take my daughter away from me. Who do you think you are to leave me? After everything we've been through. You can't leave, Granger. You belong to me. That's how marriage works."
"A marriage is based on mutual love and respect, neither of which I think you've had for me in a long time. I can't live like this, Ron. I'm leaving," she said, eyes watering, and before he could say anything, she apparated out of their house.