Chapter Two

Two weeks later, Hermione stood inside her room as she examined herself on the mirror. She was wearing one of the new robes that Madame Constance personally made for her. It was a pale yellow dress that was tiny at the waist and reached past her knees while the sleeves went up to her elbows. Flowers were crusted on the hem with little pearls, giving off a glittery light when it moves. There were trimmings of white lace along the scooped neckline, as well as at the ends of the sleeves and at the hem. Her abundant brown hair was tamed into a tight bun at the top of her head while inserted in it was a hair pin that had ruby stones mimicking a rose. Looking at her reflection, Hermione was satisfied that she looks just like any other witch and will not, therefore, embarrass herself in Diagon Alley.

"You look fantastic, honey. Although, I think not standing out will be difficult with you looking so fine like that. It's a good thing you can pin everything on Professor McGonagall for your witchy outfit." A voice said from behind the young witch. Hermione turned and saw her godmother dressed in robes that are as amazing as hers. She went to hug the black-haired woman and enthusiastically conversed with her.

"Celeste! I see you're all ready for our little trip. And here I thought you wouldn't go with us to Diagon Alley. Especially when you refused to go to the meeting with Professor McGonagall — who you just rendered as our scapegoat if someone gets curious enough to ask."

"As if you didn't plan for it yourself, Miss Hermione I-Always-Have-An-Alibi Granger." Celeste pulled back to place a kiss on Hermione's forehead. "You know I would never leave you on your own. It's just that I have very distinct features that will raise many questions. Professor McGonagall would've interrogated me the second she sees me, you know. She might ask my familial ties and when I couldn't answer, then she'll just be suspicious of me. I really don't want to be in that situation," the black-haired woman continued.

"Yes, yes, because you were an illegitimate Miss of a noble house. I knew that, godmother. I knew what it entails. I just keep forgetting that not everyone does." Hermione couldn't help but pout at her godmother. "So you'd be meeting us at Gringotts, then?"

Celeste lightly patted the child's head. "Unacknowledged, illegitimate Miss. And blasted off the family tapestry as the cherry on top." Celeste emphasized with an amused tone. "Just make sure you can send Professor McGonagall away as soon as you're at Gringotts. I think telling her that you don't want to bother her and that you'd be fine will make her run away from you faster than you can blink. You did perturb her last time."

"Don't tease me anymore, Celeste. And worry not, I'll be sure to perturb her more so she'd be out faster than you can say quidditch."

Celeste laughed at her words. "You're quick to refer to quidditch as if you don't detest the sport."

Minerva McGonagall stood in front of the brick wall where the entrance for Diagon Alley is located. Beside her stood Helen and Hermione.

"Watch carefully, Miss Granger. This is how you get to Diagon Alley." With that, the professor lifted her hand and proceeded to touch the bricks in a small sequence using the tip of her wand. Suddenly, the brick wall started shifting and morphing until an archway was formed and a busy street greeted them. Both mother and daughter perused their surroundings, the calmness on their faces never betraying a single emotion.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Miss and Mrs. Granger. Let me lead you to Gringotts first so you can exchange your paper money for galleons."

As they walked ahead, Hermione learned that no, Professor McGonagall was very wrong. She couldn't spot a single person that was dressed in muggle clothes. A thought suddenly popped in her head and made her mentally roll her eyes. Ofcourse there wouldn't be any sign of muggleborns. The term has just started afterall. Hermione was very relieved she was stubborn enough to not listen at Professor McGonagall's suggestion. She thanked her lucky stars that she had Celeste. In another world where Celeste isn't in my life, I would've stood out like a sore thumb. Because there is no doubt I would be wearing muggle clothes, while proudly thinking that yes, I'm as much a witch as anyone else despite being a muggleborn. And how I dress myself is of no consequence to my capability as a witch. Hermione glanced at her mother before shaking her head. Or maybe not. Mother's first and foremost rule, afterall, is: 'Dress your part. What you wear becomes your armor.'

Along the way, Professor McGonagall pointed out the different shops on where to find which items on the list. Hermione was particularly interested in visiting Flourish and Blotts. She wanted to see if there were copies of newspapers and controversial magazines dating back up to a decade ago. It's very important that she learn what was currently happening in the magical world. Not that all of them are sources of reliable information. I remember that Celeste showed me an issue of The Daily Prophet where the front page news was, according to her 'a complete and utter pile of rubbish'. She said that a relative of hers was wrongfully detained in a prison called Azkaban. Nevertheless, knowing a few things is better than being ignorant.

Before she realized it, they were standing infront of a very large building that says 'Gringotts Wizarding Bank'. Hermione never had the chance to send away Professor McGonagall because her mother did the honors herself.

"Professor McGonagall, how very busy you must be, especially since the term has just started. We don't want to add more to your burdens, Professor. I'm sure my daughter and I will be fine by ourselves. And I remember all the shops you pointed out awhile ago."

"I'm grateful for your concern, Mrs. Granger. I don't mind at all. Besides, you'll still need my help in Gringotts."

"You've mentioned that I only need to line up at the currency exchange counter on the left side near the entrance. Pardon me, Professor McGonagall. I'm a bit ashamed to admit this, but... my daughter and I have the tendency to linger longer than necessary inside every shop. I really don't want to waste your day accompanying us through the whole ordeal."

Minerva paused for a moment as if she was thinking it over in her head. "If you're sure, I suppose."

Helen smiled in victory before replying. "We're really sure, Professor."

Hermione turned to Professor McGonagall and did a curtsy as she bid her goodbye. "It's been a pleasure, Professor McGonagall. Thank you for your time. And I'll see you at Hogwarts in about a year, Professor."

Helen Granger followed her daughter's action. "I appreciate your time with us, Professor. Thank you for guiding my daughter."

Minerva gave them a perplexed look as she nodded. "Yes, of course." And then she turned to leave.

Mother and daughter caught each other's gaze before soft laughter escaped their lips.

"I think we kind of broke her, Mother."

"Mmhmm. None of that now, let's go find your godmother."

The pair walked inside the building and what they saw stunned them. Occupying the lobby, were a flurry of people going about their business and small creatures with long fingers and dome-shaped heads entertaining them. So that's what goblins look like. Helen, who had been living all her life to always conduct herself gracefully, quickly collected herself and in a split second went back from surprised to polite indifference. Placing her hand on her daughter's shoulder, the woman led her child to the currency exchange counter. Fortunately, they quickly found Celeste waiting for them.

"Celeste, dear. Sorry for making you wait too long."

The gray-eyed beauty just waved her hand in dismissal and smiled. "Not too long, Helen. Anyways, I think our transaction will not take up much time. There's no one else here."

"That's good because I brought about five thousand pounds here." Both adult chuckled at that while Hermione looked at them confused.

"But Mother, isn't that a bit much? A galleon equals five pounds and I think the cost of everything in the list isn't even over 200 galleons. One thousand pounds should suffice."

Both women couldn't help but shoot her a fond smile. And with a teasing tone, Celeste answered Hermione. "Oh? I assumed you would want to do a transaction with the goblins yourself. Apparently not. Nevermind, then." She motioned to turn away but Hermione quickly grasped her godmother's hands while staring with pleading eyes. "You're absolutely right to assume, Celeste. I really, really, want to."

Celeste gave her a brilliant smile and promised her that she would. With that, Helen and Celeste went and exchanged their money while Hermione patiently waited for them.

Quarter of an hour later, her mother and godmother approached her while each holding a purse in their hand. Hermione greeted them with a bright smile before lending out her hand. Her companions could only helplessly sigh at her. Helen placed the purse she was holding in her daughter's awaiting palm.

"This purse contains 500 galleons, dear. And Mr. Goblin Warblefred by the counter said it'll be more than enough to start a vault. We'll wait here, alright? Off you go then, you little witch."

Hermione giggled at her mother's words. "Oh Mother, ever are you the politest. But there's no need to worry so much. Based on what I've learned from Celeste, this bag of gold will do much of the talking." She said cheekily while lifting up the purse. On the side, Celeste was suppressing a laugh at her goddaughter's actions.

Soon enough, Hermione waved at them before she bounded off to the other side of the lobby, with an almost unnoticeable bounce on her steps.

As the Scion of House Malfoy and House Black, Draco Malfoy grew up accompanying his parents among the plethora of galas, tea parties, business transactions and meetings with important people. He witnessed how his father always get his way in business dealings. And how he outmaneuver men twice his own age to do his bidding while letting them think it was their own idea. He saw how his mother influence the opinions and decisions of the ladies of high society just by sitting and talking about things most would think inconsequential. He grew up surrounded by politics and he knows how it worked. He learned it. He'd known since long ago that his parents are manipulative and mostly do things that will benefit them and their endeavors. And to everyone else, it would look like self-entitlement and arrogance. But in young Draco's eyes, it's his parents protecting their own interests. Always take whatever advantages you can gain, Draco. You can never have too many tricks up your sleeve. Many forget how cruel the world could be. You should never put others before yourself, my son, his father once told him. It's one of the many lessons he has been taught. And one of the many evidences that allow Draco to understand the shrewdness of his family. Unless of course, you've found your equal in a brilliant and unparalleled lady like your father did, his mother said with a soft smile on her usually indifferent face. And Lucius, like a moth to a flame, would hold Narcissa in his arms like she's the most precious thing in the world as he agreed with her. Of course, dear. I know our son would one day meet a lady like his mother.

But then, there would be moments like this when Draco would witness and feel the boundless love and affection of his family. The masks and armours shown to the world are shed amongst their three-person world. Everyone else could doubt the virtues of House Malfoy, and they might even be right, the young boy thought. We aren't saints afterall. But love, loyalty and trust to our own will never cease.

"Draco, we are finished here," Lucius called him.

"Yes, Father. Have you convinced Sir Sharptooth to mentor me in finances?" the young blonde asked cheekily.

"He agreed. On the condition that you face him in the Coliseum and win by drawing the first blood."

"Which means, never."

"That's about it."

"If you're done with your fascinating conversation on how to annoy the goblins," Narcissa interrupted them, "maybe I can tolerate half an hour in the quidditch shop."

The father and son did not dally after that. Both escorted Narcissa on each side as they made their way out of Gringotts.

That was the first encounter between the young children. Not that they were aware how big of a part they will be in each other's lives as they walk past each other. Draco and Hermione, both too happy about other things to recognize what their own magic did. A millisecond in which their eyes drifted towards one another. A very short and brief moment. And yet it was enough for their aura to touch and recognize a kindred soul. It was only the beginning.

"You are your magic. Many witches and wizards fail to realize that their very own being and existence is made up of magic. It seeps from your core. From your soul. It is alive because you are. Remember how you made a withered flower bloom with a single touch, Hermione?"

"I remember, Celeste. It was Mother's orchid."

"It's because the excess from the constant flow of magic within you oozes outward. And that, my dear, becomes your aura."

"So, does that mean I have magic touch?"

"Magic touch, indeed. But it could also be as simple as your presence. You can make a flower bloom just by being near it if you are happy enough."

"Now, you're making it sound like a saint blessing the lands."

"Perhaps that's where muggles got it from."

"That's actually very possible."

"I wasn't teasing, though. Your emotional state can really affect how far your aura can reach. That's why accidental magic happens. It's your magic responding to your emotions. Particularly when you're angry. Your magic flow speeds up. And the faster it is, the higher the amount of excess magic. And the larger your aura expands. Everything within the vicinity that your aura could touch are affected."

"So, that's it. I've always been hesitant about your stories of accidental magic being so destructive most of the time. My accidental magic aren't exactly accidents."

"You're the second person I know whose accidental magic are deliberate."

"Really? Who's the other one?"

"My cousin. Where other people's anger are explosions waiting to happen, hers are as cold as the arctic. She doesn't let it get the best of her. She wraps it tightly. And when she unleash it, her anger is focused and biting and it lingers."

"So, the wizarding world's Ice Queen? She must've been your favorite."

"She is. And you have no room to talk. Your anger ran deeper than the earth's core. I pity the people who cross you."

Note:

To be honest, I wasn't planning on ever leaving a note when I first started this. It was supposed to be my fantasy-dump where I could guarantee a happy ever after for my ship. HAHAHAHA. It was mostly made for myself to do whatever the heck I want. I actually had this chapter drafted way back when the first chapter was posted. It was just incomplete. There were so many things I wanted to happen that I didn't know which way to go. So I left it alone and decided that when I figure things out, I'll get back on it. But yeah, I actually forgot about it. And I only remembered it when my secondary email notified me that somebody has added it to their story alert subscription. By the way, thanks for the reminder, Plesse cindy.

So I thought, 'Oh yeah, I started a story last year. Might as well check it out.' And I did. And there's a draft of the second chapter which, thankfully, has not been deleted yet. (I must've checked on it before as well, because it was still there.) And I just kind of added everything else tonight.

Okay, so on to the point on why I've made this note. Because telling the origins of this fic wasn't really the main reason for this looooong note.

As I've mentioned above, this story was created with the purpose of being my fantasy-dump. Basically, I'm fulfilling whatever it is I want to happen so I could guarantee my ship will have a happy end. I wasn't really expecting for many people to like it.

But I am so very thankful to all of you who did.

Again, this is a fantasy-dump. I wanted to emphasize this because as I was rereading the first and the second chapter — after more than a year away from its clutches — I can't be the only one who noticed that I was dumping everything to the characters, right? I'm basically spoon-feeding them. I'm like the fairy godmother who keeps on giving solutions to every problem I give them (because I made the plot — a vague, and mostly with no direction plot — but still, it's a plot). And I didn't have a very good time management. I mean, I basically made a whole chapter for a trip to Gringotts. That's probably the slowest of the slow-burn.

And that doesn't bode well for a great story. It needs conflicts that will make you, me, and the characters conflicted.

But once again, this is a fantasy-dump. Which means that I want my ship to be happy no matter what. So I can't guarantee if it will have that kind of conflict or, basically a good plot.

And here's another sad thing as well:

I also can't guarantee the updates of this story. I'm sorry about this.

Another reason why I never planned to leave a note was because I don't want to leave some kind of message and possibly lead you on to wait and expect things that might not happen. (a moment of silence for all the hearts who waited for nothing)

And I know that feedbacks from the audience are definitely part of the motivation to write more, but I can't bring myself to be in a position where I will feel obligated to keep writing for others. And I know that sounded really harsh and I'm very sorry for that. I'm not blaming you (you're like the passers-by who happened to appreciate what i did here, I'm not an ungrateful person) and it's actually about my personality. I'm not sure if I've overcome this particular trait of mine, but I tend to feel responsible for pleasing other people. I don't even know how to explain it. But if I'm somehow related to something (discussions, events, project, group quiz, joking with friends) and something goes wrong, even if only a little, I tend to feel like it's my fault and I'm somehow responsible for it. So I kind of do everything to try and fix it, or say sorry if I couldn't.

With that said, if I place myself in that position with regards to this fic, I'll probably ignore all other things I needed to do just to wrack my brains out so I could post out a chapter. And I don't want to go through that ordeal. Yeah, I kind of have that 'wanted to please everyone' tendency.

Sorry for dumping all of that on you.

Anyways, I'm really, really thankful to everyone who appreciated this little fic of mine. It really warms my heart.

So, in a nutshell, this note is "I'm really grateful for your appreciation and I didn't want to disappoint you so I just kind of wanted to warn you before you expect too much."

That's all~

Love,

little lady wisteria

P.S. Sorry guys. The note was probably longer than the chapter itself. Hihihi.