It was unbearably painful for Hermione to listen to Narcissa Malfoy.
Narcissa groomed Hermione carefully. Thanks to Madame Pomfrey, the young witch had healed enough to finally begin the tasks she had laid out with Snape the day before. Unfortunately, her new "guardian" insisted on helping her dress. Hermione suspected Narcissa did not believe she could pick something appropriate out herself.
Bandages were removed and hospital clothes taken away to be cleaned for the next patient. While Hermione was largely healed after being in the hospital wing for four days, some stiffness remained. Potions and spells had encouraged the cuts and bruises to disappear rapidly, but Cruciatous left a deep, throbbing ache within her bones. The ache could only be assuaged by time, so she endeavored to ignore it so she could see just what her spiteful cousins had in store for her.
The older witch shooed Madam Pomfrey away, much to the healer's displeasure, to dress Hermione. Narcissa gently coaxed dress robes of dove grey, limned in silver thread, over Hermione's body. Beneath the robes (which Hermione could swear she had seen Draco with a matching set), she wore a knee length, white dress with pale lace that frothed beyond the sleeves of her grey robes. A slate grey corset of velvet ended just below her rib cage. Her usual black boots were deemed appropriate enough to honor their outing. Where Narcissa had procured such fine clothing on such short notice was beyond Hermione's imagination or care.
Much to her cousin's chagrin, Hermione's wild mane of hair refused any spells or potions meant to wrestle it into submission. Defeated, Narcissa relented to tying back the front heft with a silver ribbon that magically tied itself into a perfect bow. While opening Hermione's expressive eyes and clever grin, it also had the adverse effect of impersonating a dark thunderhead hovering ominously behind her head, threatening to burst into storm.
After she was dressed and deemed acceptable, Narcissa escorted her to Dumbledore's office. The headmaster watched the blonde witch carefully as she gently pushed a disgruntled looking Hermione Black into his presence.
"Headmaster," Narcissa greeted politely, if coldly. "As Astarte's closest female relative, I have assumed guardianship."
"Hermione. I'm still Hermione," Hermione interrupted, quite savagely for the relatively calm moment. "Yes, I'm a Black and a le Fay, and my first name may not be what I thought it has been for twelve years, but I will go by Hermione. Not Astarte."
Narcissa smiled and shelved the argument for later, when Dumbledore wasn't present to witness. "Of course. My apologies, Hermione."
"You are not her only female relative, Mrs. Malfoy," Dumbledore informed. "There is also Andromeda."
Narcissa's polite smile didn't falter, although the mention of her estranged sister caused her neck to prickle. Lucius has suspected Dumbledore would intervene in such a way, so Narcissa had already formed a rebuttal. She would not allow her young cousin to stray from her pureblood heritage as her sister had, and she would not allow Dumbledore's ghastly Order to sink their talons into the girl either.
"Hermione is close in age to my Draco. You would not tear a young girl from her closest family, when she does not even have a sibling to help her within Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore smiled, "Of course not. But perhaps it would be prudent for Hermione to also meet Andromeda, sometime in the near future?"
To the surprise of both Dumbledore and Narcissa, Hermione rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and interrupted. "I am sick and tired of posturing. I see enough of it on a daily basis in Slytherin. I don't care about meeting anyone except for my father. When can that happen?"
Hermione had done well to contain herself until that point, but curiosity bowled her over when the elder witch and wizard discussed her like she had no say in her own future. Hermione was quickly realized that as a le Fay and a Black, she actually had total control over her own future now; the power was heady. Of course, she was restricted now by traditions she was only just beginning to understand, but she could work within those parameters much easier than when she had been a simple muggleborn.
Now that she had her to do list tucked securely into her coat pocket and all of her affairs were about to be in order, only one thought consumed her: Sirius Black. What did he look like in person? When could she meet him? Why hadn't she known of him? Her need to know was an all-powerful drive. The shape Sirius, her father, took in her mind was indistinct, open to her imagination. She wanted a fleshed out image; she wanted to know what subjects he excelled in at school, what he did for a living. Hermione desperately wanted to know if she was at all like the mysterious wizard who had fathered her, and then left her in the muggle world.
She had spent weeks researching, trying to find any inkling of her father. And now, she knew his name.
And he was not there to meet her.
Dumbledore and Narcissa exchanged glances. "He is imprisoned due to war crimes," Narcissa informed. "In Azkaban."
Hermione's thoughts stuttered. Of all the reasons, this had been the least expected. Was that why he had left her? To spare her the prejudice of being the daughter of a criminal?
No, Hermione thought to herself. She couldn't romanticize him, not until she knew the truth. It was too easy to get caught up in girlish hopes about her absentee father. Until she had the chance to meet him, she would strive to keep herself reserved; already, Narcissa was watching her too closely, gleaning weaknesses.
But she couldn't help herself. Ever since she had found her parents' marriage certificate and she had realized the truth about her biological father, certain questions had consumed her. Why had he never claimed her? Was she a disappointment to him? Why had he chosen to leave her among muggles rather than wizards? She couldn't avoid the last question: wondering why he had left her among people who did not understand her, rather than wizards and witches who could have raised her amongst themselves. She could have avoided so much pain if he had just made a different decision.
Why had her own father left her to experience such pain?
Narcissa shook her from her morose musings. "It is high time for us to depart, Dumbledore," she said, forgoing any honorifics. "We have an appointment to make."
Dumbledore smiled genially, a typical twinkle in his pale blue eyes. "Of course, of course, who am I to withhold two ladies from their appointments?"
Narcissa and Hermione used the headmaster's floo to travel to Diagon Alley, whereupon Hermione looked directly into the fearful grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.