Author's Note: Hello everyone, so this chapter hasn't really been beta read, but I would love to hear your feedback on it!
1
"Somewhere beyond right and wrong, there is a garden."
A deadly frost had settled into the very bones of the castle this year, the spidery dance of snow blanketing the halls from the last remaining rays of Autumn. Winter had always been beautiful at Hogwarts, but now, after all had been lost, it felt only cold.
A shiver ran down Draco's spine as he leaned against the oval window of the Clock Tower, peering out over the courtyard in the distance. It was once again a Hogsmeade weekend, and while everyone had huddled together on their merry way to the little village, Draco found refuge in the isolated landing behind the medieval clock.
It wasn't that he had no interest in going to Hogsmeade, in fact, he would have loved to get out of the castle that had become far too small in these few months. Alas, the cards were not in his favour. The Board of Governors didn't trust Draco Malfoy to go wandering the streets of a magical village without starting some or other illicit scheme. At least, that's what he believed the reason to be. What other reason was there?
Another chill shot down his spine. Draco huffed slightly in irritation before he cast another warming charm on the little room. It was funny how they didn't seem to last as long as they should. He surmised that it was a thought for another day as he sat down on the little makeshift bench under the window. His back rested against the pane while he propped up his one knee and pulled out his quil, inkpot and a piece of parchment. His hand hesitated briefly over the page. Blank pages seemed to have it in for him this year. Draco shut his eyes in concentration and let out a deep sigh. It was all he needed, apparently as his stormy hues became visible once again and his hand started to glide across the parchment.
Mother,
I promised I would write as often as I could.
School has been going as well as can be expected.
It's cold this time of year. It reminds me of home, but also… not.
Slughorn has assigned me a tutor for Muggle Studies. I don't know who it is yet. Probably someone insufferable.
.
.
.
I miss you…
Draco
Draco swallowed thickly as he penned his name to the letter. He had been corresponding with his mother throughout his time at Hogwarts. But he knew the Ministry was always watching. Thus, where he would have sent his mother a letter filled to the brim with the various things he was feeling and also not feeling, he could only muster up the courage to write this little note.
He knew his mother could read between the lines. She had always been able to. If Lucius was Draco's anger, Narcissa was his compassion. And it seemed only fitting that it was that part of himself that was submerged by his Occlumency. Leaving only his anger. But now, there was no more need for Occlumency. He was safe and the war was over. At least that's what his mother had told him. She had told him a lot of things, especially in the garden by the Manor.
The garden.
Malfoy Manor was a cold and dark place that ate screams and drank pain. But the garden was different. Draco was three years old when his mother took him there the first time. He had been woken up by a horrible storm, where the sky bled across the night and the wind screamed in agony. Draco wondered what had caused the sky to be so angry.
'I don't know, darling," his mother had answered as she guided him through the darkened halls of the manor. She had found him huddled next to her side of the bed, not making a sound, so as not to disturb his father. He was just sitting there next to where she lay, his eyes closed tightly as he waited for some form of relief. And it arrived shortly after. Draco remembered her waking up and fixing him with a gaze that held no malice, only curiosity which soon bled in compassion. She had risen from her bed quietly before she took his hand and led him out. 'I suppose the sky needs to scream too sometimes.'
Draco remembered that walk. Remembered the surge of safety he felt simply by having his hand held. He remembered staring wide eyed at his mother as she turned down a narrow hallway, pressing a finger to her lips, asking him to remain silent. But above all, he remembered the view that awaited him beyond the door at the end of the corridor.
A passage made entirely of glass stretched forth from the doorway, leading straight ahead as rain hit down on the glassy exterior. The sky was still lit up with bolts of fire, as Draco had called them, and yet… he could no longer hear the screaming. There was a gentle hum in the air, and for some reason, it sounded oddly like his mother's singing. However, she was completely silent next to him, leading him gently along the hall. Draco had only realised he had been staring up at his mother when they finally stopped and she turned to face him, gently cradling his face before turning to show him the room they were in.
The room itself was much less a room and more like a terrarium of sorts. Wildflowers blossomed out among them while large cherry blossom trees sprouted up from the ground and stretched across their heads. Fireflies danced about, quietly and gently. A cobbled stone path wound all the way toward the center of the garden where a pavilion stood, surrounded by wreaths of blossoms in all shades and sizes. An ornate swinging chair awaited them there.
Draco chanced a glance up at his mother, only to find her smiling down at him. His brows furrowed in confusion at the sight, however he remembered the calm feeling that enveloped him as the two of them walked over to the pavilion.
"This is our garden, Draco," his mother had said as they sat down on the chair. "It was forged and built by your father's mother many many years ago. It brought her peace in times when there was far too little to be grateful for." The chair rocked gently as Draco had rested his head against his mother's shoulder. "She gave this gift to me just before I married your father, saying that it will bring comfort in times of great sorrow."
Draco remained silent beside his mother as he watched the cherry blossoms fall around them, the gentle hum of the garden lulling him to sleep. He distinctly remembered his mother's arm wrapping around him in that moment. "It will always be here, Draco. And if you ever need me, I will be waiting for you…"
Draco's eyes found the page in front of him once again, his breath coming out in cold puffs. He had been swallowed up by that memory so completely, he had almost forgotten where he was. This was what generally happened when he lowered his Occlumency shields. The memories of his mother would come floating to the top, or at least the feelings he felt when he was with her would arise. He would be reminded of her compassion, and would act accordingly. He found it easier to have sympathy for certain people, even if it didn't present itself in the best ways. He was capable of being just a boy. But then the Dark Lord had returned…
His aunt Bella had told him of the powers the Dark Lord possessed, had weaned him on his legends and taunted him with his horrors. But despite her mad devotion to the monster that had arisen, deep down inside of her, she still loved her sister. Him being Draco, not so much. But when she taught him Occlumency all those years ago, she saw the reverence he had for his mother. And all the feelings that came along with it.
If the Dark Lord had ever discovered how much Narcissa had meant to Draco… he shuddered to think what would have happened. He had one thing in common with his mad Aunt; and that was their love for his mother. It was the thing that pushed him to succeed and drove his Aunt to the lengths she went to in order to ensure he mastered the craft.
But the cost of its mastery created this lingering hole in his life. When you bury something as complex as emotions, it becomes a sickness that rots you from the inside out. And the worst kind of sickness is a silent one.
The letter in his hand fluttered as a small breeze traveled through the hollow area he was seated in. His expression was unguarded, but almost ghostlike. The silver of his eyes swirled about like the grey storms they were, but there was something almost gentle about them in this moment. A part of him that still lingered behind all the anger and was shining through the cracks.
Draco knew sooner or later he would have to leave his little sanctuary here away from the world and face the things he had been running from. Slughorn had mentioned he would be meeting with his tutor later that day as well, another hindrance on his part. But for now, he felt content in being just a boy that wrote his mother a letter.
.
2
"Prepare yourself for the reckoning"
Draco Malfoy was many things. The word 'heir' came to mind more often than not, but mostly because of years of being addressed as just that. Draco was told that he would one day take over the mantle from his father and become the new Lord of the Manor. The prospect always excited him as a child; being able to be seen as the respective, authoritarian his father was. But now he wasn't quite so sure.
In fact, he found himself dreading the day he took over from his father. It was an honour, a destiny he was born for, and yet, he wasn't certain he had it in him to lead with the same conviction his father had. There was no doubt in his father's actions, every word conveying the exact emotion he meant to. His presence demanded to be acknowledged when he entered a room. Even when he was faced with decisions that would seem cowardly… he never strayed from the poignant man he once was.
Draco didn't think he would ever have the strength to face such utter defeat and still wear his pride like a badge of honour. And for that, he felt ashamed. And shame mixed with pride can have disastrous outcomes. Draco was well aware of this fact, especially now as Professor Slughorn led him down the corridors of the first floor. Slughorn had asked him to stay after class that morning as he was setting up his workstation for potions. There wasn't room for argument, and so, Draco had merely continued preparing the ingredients before him.
It was only after the last of the Ravenclaws had filed out of the classroom that Slughorn finally approached Draco with a jolly little smile. Draco hated the look on his face at that moment, and became even more opposed to it when the elderly wizard informed him that he had found him a suitable tutor.
Which led to this little expedition along the corridors of Hogwarts' first floor. Draco felt quite silly if he had to be honest. The last time he had followed someone around so diligently had been with his father when he was still in his fourth year. The thought of Slughorn taking up a similar place as his father created a nauseated sense of unease to settle in the pit of his stomach.
"Where exactly are we going, Professor?" Draco had asked as they turned another corner, passing a few of the first years on their way to the Courtyard. They had seen Draco first, before their gazes landed on the Professor. Draco was quite used to the stares at this point, but he felt that these were far less malicious or fearful than many others. Draco towered a good foot above Slughron, making it impossible to miss him, especially when some of the first years were only slightly taller than Professor Flitwick.
"I told you, my boy," Slughorn answered as he shuffled along the hall. "I'm going to introduce you to your-" he paused briefly, noticing the amount of students among them. "-ah, advisor. Yes, I told you that, didn't I?" Draco winced slightly at the man's attempt at subtlety. Yes, Draco knew who they were going to meet, he had gathered as much when Slughorn had ushered him out of class with the mention of the 'perfect student' to help in this situation. What Draco didn't quite understand was why they were going on this elaborate trip around the castle when said student could simply have met them at the classroom.
"What I meant was, why are we leaving the dungeons? Couldn't you just tell me who it was and have it be done with?" Draco asked, an irritated frown on his face.
"I could do that, yes," Slughorn answered, "But I was asked specifically to attend your first meeting."
"What?" Draco blurted out, staring at Slughorn with a mixture of disbelief and slight outrage.
"The tutor I have found for you is quite brilliant, even if I do say so myself," Slughorn explained. "However, she had one or two minor conditions for meeting with you."
Draco wasn't quite sure which part of that sentence shocked him more; the fact that the tutor was a girl or the fact that she had the audacity to determine conditions for this meeting. He decided the latter took precedence.
"Conditions?" Draco sneered. "And you just happily went along with them? You're the professor!" he hissed, an incredulous look on his face.
"Well, yes," Slughorn answered simply, not at all phased by Draco's demeanor. "She made quite a few reasonable requests; ones that would be foolish to disparage. Your mother believes them to be quite acceptable as well, might I add."
"You spoke to my mother?!" Draco stopped abruptly, his shoulders tensed and his face contorted into a pained expression. He had been waiting for a few days for his mother's response to his letter, and now he found out that Slughorn had been speaking with her in private, quite possibly on a regular basis. To say he felt a little betrayed was a gross understatement. Why hadn't his mother told him?
Slughorn must have realised Draco wasn't following him anymore, as he turned around after a few moments and approached him again. The hall was empty at this point.
"Come now, my boy," Slughorn said gently. "It's nothing to worry about. I simply felt it imperative to get her opinion on the matter. She knows you best after all." A jolly laugh escaped him at his last statement, before turning to continue down the corridor. "I'll have you know, while she was quite surprised at the suggestion, she agreed that it was the best possible choice. Especially for you."
Draco followed slowly, snapping out of his stupor. Draco had always held his mother in high esteem. And she did know him best. Slughorn was correct about that. Not that he would mention it to him. But that didn't help the sickening twist in his gut as they approached the Study Hall.
Slughorn came to a stop in front of the large mahogany doors and turned to face Draco, a hint of apprehension on his features. Draco felt positively indisposed at this point.
"Draco, I understand this is a difficult thing to come to terms with, and I can't tell you how pleased I am that you are indeed considering this."
Draco's fist clenched at his side as his nervous tick set in once again. He knew what this was. He had seen it happen countless times, especially from Slughorn this past year. He was trying to soften the inevitable blow that was waiting for him on the other side of the door. And while the old man was trying to set his mind at ease, Draco felt anything but.
Slughorn must have seen the indecision on his face, as he schooled his own into a more serious one.
"All I ask is that you try to be open minded," he said with a small sigh, before pushing open the doors.
.
3
"Words I say and what I hide"
Draco wasn't sure what he expected on the other side of that door. Perhaps some swotty Ravenclaw that would lecture him on the fundamental uses of Aconite. Or a self conscious Hufflepuff with a desperate need to keep the peace. What he didn't anticipate, however, was coming face to face with a very familiar, very haunting face.
"Ms Granger! Thank you for meeting us here!"
Draco's world stopped for a moment. There she was, standing in front of them, her arms straight at her sides as she nodded at Professor Slughorn. Her hair was surprisingly tied back into a braid that hung over her shoulder. And was a definite improvement on the mess of curls he always saw. But then again, even that didn't seem as unruly as it always used to. Realization dawned on him at what her presence entailed as she made to answer Slughorn.
"Of course, Professor. Thank you for havi-"
"What in Merlin's name is this?" Draco bit out; a sneer on his face as he eyed Hermione warily. He then turned to Slughorn. "Of all the students in the whole school, you went and chose her?"
Draco could feel Hermione's glare on his back, but he didn't care much about that. He had received far worse from the girl in question than a small angry scowl. And she had absolutely no reason to be upset with him! He was just stating what should have been on everyone's mind. Why in the world would Hermione Granger want to tutor the likes of Draco Malfoy?
A sudden thought made him cringe. What if she was just doing this to get back at him for his antics the other day in the Library? Was this her plan? To embarrass him on an academic level? His pride was already taking a knock at having been assigned a tutor; now that tutor is supposed to be Hermione Bloody Granger?
"Draco, my boy, I assure you this was all thought out quite thoroughly-"
"Quite thoroughly?" Draco interrupted, a look of exasperation on his face. "Please explain how you could have done so and still come to this conclusion?" He made a sweeping gesture towards Hermione as he finished his statement. He still hadn't met her gaze.
"I assure you this is the best possible course of action we could take. Your mother thought so, too-"
"My mother agreed to this?!" Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. His mother had actually thought this was a good idea? Had she lost all common sense?
"She did," Slughorn answered. "It was certainly quite a long discussion, with quite a few little discrepancies, if I might say so myself. No offense to you, of course, Ms Granger." A remorseful look appeared on his face as he looked past Draco at the girl in question.
Draco turned to face her at that moment, his face still contorted in a mixture of thinly veiled shock and outrage. She had merely nodded at Slughorn's words. His sudden attention must have alerted her as she snapped her eyes to his own. They were angry, there was no doubt about that. And Draco had no delusions as to who that anger was directed at. But there was something else as well. Something almost… desperate?
"Desperation has a way of making you do desperate things."
Draco shook off the thought as quickly as it had come. What on earth would she be that desperate for that the Gryffindor would even consider helping him? Slughorn's words cut through their small staring contest.
"I know the two of you haven't always seen eye to eye-"
"We've never seen eye to eye," Draco interrupted, still glaring at Hermione.
"But perhaps this is a chance to make amends?" Slughorn continued as if he hadn't Draco at all. "This year is all about new beginnings; a fresh start for everyone. This would be the perfect way to-"
Draco hadn't heard the rest of Slughorn's somewhat prepared speech. Instead, his attention was focussed on the girl standing in front of him, the two of them separated by only a desk. He was quite surprised when she was the first to break eye contact. Although, in a way, he was also grateful.
Couldn't she see how terrible this idea was? The two of them had a history; and not a very pleasant one at that. They were on opposing sides of a war, for Merlin's sake. To think they could go from such an extreme and pretend to be students again, helping each other out for little tests and classes was positively mad!
Not to mention what had transpired at the Manor…
Draco never wanted any of that to happen. He didn't want to be responsible for the death of the little trio of misfits, no matter how much he had hated them. So he had lied. When his Aunt Bella had asked him if it was Potter. He knew it was, but the fear of what would happen if he were wrong played a greater part in his decision. He didn't lie to save them. He lied for his mother. For his family. He was no hero in this war; and was reminded of that fact quite painfully when Hermione had been pulled away from the boys by his maniacal aunt.
He had done nothing. Could do nothing. All that was left for him was to endure the screams. But it wasn't just her screams in the end. Potter and his friends weren't the first prisoners brought in by the snatchers. And her screams weren't the first either. But they were the most memorable, because it was the first time he had seen such torture. The screams all sounded the same, but in his nightmares, he only saw her.
Draco swallowed thickly, feeling the sweat form on his brow as he tried to force the memory down. His pulse was racing and the last thing he needed was for Granger to see him in a state of distress. So he sucked up the last bit of courage he had left. It didn't matter what was at stake; all that truly mattered was getting out of that situation.
"We can see how this will develop over time, but in the end, it's all up to the two of you and how you wish to…" Slughorn stopped short, his attention now on Draco. His brows furrowed slightly as concern flashed in his eyes.
"Professor, I don't think this is going to work. Not only because of who I am, but because of who she is," Draco responded, instantly regretting how it sounded. He saw Hermione's head snap toward him in what could only be anger, but he kept his gaze fixed on Slughorn. He hadn't meant her blood status, but rather who she was to him. And vice versa. They were never going to get along.
"Draco-" Slughorn started.
"My mother may have agreed to this arrangement, but I certainly do not," he bit out. "And if this is what needs to be done, I'll be sure to send my father your regards when I join him in Azkaban."
The last thing Slughorn saw on his face was a rather unpleasant sneer before he stormed out of the Study Hall.
"Mr Malfoy!" he called after him, but to no avail. He was already gone. Slughorn had a sorrowful expression on his face as he turned to Hermione, whose face was contorted in a slight frown as she stared down at the wooden floor beneath them.
"Ms Granger, I do apologise for what you have been exposed to. I truly thought he would be more open to the idea," he offered, trying to ease her strife.
"There's no need to apologise, Professor," she answered solemnly. "I had an idea of what to expect. Given his reaction, I suppose he wasn't aware that it was me you asked?"
Hermione looked up at Slughorn, with an unreadable expression. It seemed he knew exactly what she was trying to say however.
"I feared he wouldn't come to meet you had I informed him of the arrangement beforehand. Perhaps I didn't think this meeting through as thoroughly as I should have." He was quiet for a moment, before smiling gently at Hermione. "Not to worry. He will come around; of that you can be certain."
"Forgive me if I'm not expecting much from that promise, Professor," Hermione offered, returning his smile, her doubt quite evident.
"Of course," he answered, leading to the entrance of the Study Hall. "But I'll have you know, I think Mr Malfoy has the tendency to surprise."
.
4
"Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone."
Draco had barged into the Common Room so abruptly, he hadn't noticed Blaise seated by the fireplace, nor the questioning look on his face as he descended the stairs. He didn't even bother questioning why Blaise was there in the first place. All Draco knew was that he needed to be alone for a few moments. That, and that he needed to have a word with his mother.
The door to the dormitories slammed shut behind him, before Draco made it to his trunk situated next to the large four poster bed. He plucked it open quite fiercely, rummaging through the contents until he pulled out a small crystal canister, roughly the size of his palm. On the inside was a small vine sprouting three white cherry blossoms. It omitted a gentle hum the moment Draco picked it up.
A sudden calmness flooded him. And he knew he would be able to face whatever came next. The vine was part of the Cherry Blossom tree in the Garden back home. When he was told he would be returning to Hogwarts, his mother had cut a piece off and preserved it in this crystal canister. She said that if he ever felt alone or afraid, he simply had to hold on to it. It helped him quite a lot during the first few weeks of term.
He stared quietly at the moving flowers that seemed so alive, passing the crystal between his hands when there was a knock on the door. Draco took a deep breath and tucked the canister into his robes, his gaze traveling to the door as Blaise entered.
"Everything alright, Draco?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe. "I hate how often I'm having to ask that question, you know."
Draco scoffed at the prospect of this becoming a habit. Blaise was a crude man when it came down to it, but he was also quite attentive. It didn't bother him as much as he thought that Blaise was showing him a bit of concern. It did, however, bother him with what Blaise would do with the information. The last thing he needed was for Pansy to start fretting over him again.
"I told you, I'm fine," Draco responded, glaring at him. It didn't quite have the bite it always had, but there was a warning laced within his eyes. Blaise seemed to understand, as he simply shrugged and turned to leave.
"If you say so," he said over his shoulder. "Just know that one day I might decide to stop asking. And that might be when you really need it."
His words settled in the room as he departed from Draco, who quietly pulled out the canister again. He turned it over in his hand one more time, before burying it in his trunk once again, when he was sure no one would find it.
.
5
"Mirror, mirror, what's behind you?"
Draco knew Slughorn would call him back sooner or later, but honestly, he was really hoping for later. He had avoided the Great Hall at lunchtime and instead retreated to his fortress of solitude behind the Clock Tower once again, biding time and collecting his thoughts. He was upset that his mother had agreed to the prospect of Granger being his tutor, but he couldn't bring it in himself to be angry with her. He never could.
But that didn't mean he wasn't going to sulk about it first.
When he entered the Muggle Studies classroom that afternoon, he barely glanced in Granger's direction. After their encounter a few hours ago, he thought it best to avoid her altogether for the time being. So much so that he didn't even catch her inquisitive glances in his direction. Not that it would have mattered much to him in any case.
The bell chimed signaling the end of class and Draco had been looking forward to a swift exit… until Professor Sallow handed him his Amendment Journal. She had a disapproving look on her face as she informed him that Professor Slughorn had come to see her earlier.
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Mr Malfoy. Professor Slughorn might put up with your antics, but I most certainly will not," she had told him. "Make sure you go to his office directly after class. And I assure you, I will know if you don't…"
Which in turn, led to this very moment, with Draco standing in front of Professor Slughorn's office once again. Draco knew his actions were beyond insubordinate, and in his situation, he really couldn't afford to do such things that would jeopardize his Amnesty. The minutes ticked by slowly, and he finally managed to raise his hand to knock on the door.
He swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. He half expected Slughorn to yank it open and yell at him for walking off the way he did earlier, which was why he was pleasantly surprised when the old wizard opened the door and greeted him with a stern, but gentle expression.
"Draco, my boy," he said, stepping aside. "I was beginning to wonder about you. Come in."
Draco stepped inside dutifully, still not saying anything. In all honesty, he knew that if he did say something now, he would probably mess it all up even more than he already had. He had become familiar with Slughorn, and familiarity often led to disrespect. Which Draco was quite guilty of these past few weeks.
He took a seat across from Slughorn's desk, noticing only now that there was a large mirror stationed in the corner adjacent to the large oak desk. Draco had been in this office more times than he cared to admit, and thus knew with certainty that the mirror hadn't been there before. His attention snapped back to Slughorn, who sat down in the large chair behind his desk, the wood creaking slightly.
"So, I suppose this morning could have been handled a bit better, don't you think?" he said, fixing Draco with a pensive look. "On both parts."
Draco was taken aback by his last statement. Slughorn had just admitted being at fault, too? He was meeting him halfway again. And while it frustrated him greatly, there was a part of him that experienced quite a large amount of relief.
"I believe it was quite a shock on your part to be confronted with Miss Granger, especially considering, well-" Whatever Slughorn had intended to say, seemed to clash with his better judgment as he elected to steer the conversation in a slightly different situation. "I've been informed that there were certain incidents during the war, specifically during the spring holiday."
Draco swallowed thickly, not meeting Slughorn's gaze and instead focussing on the desk in front of him.
"As I understand it, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger were involved in a certain ordeal at-"
"Please don't," Draco interrupted, his gaze still fixed on the desk. There was a stony countenance about his expression that Slughorn wasn't quite sure he wanted to break.
"Of course," he answered, gauging his reaction. "Nevertheless, I now understand that in my haste to bring about the point of your new tutor, I failed to take into consideration what your personal history was with Miss Granger, and that would affect the situation. And for that, I do apologise."
Slughorn was quiet for a few moments, causing Draco to look up and meet his gaze. He sensed there was something else, something Slughorn was still waiting to say.
"But?" Draco probed, fixing him with a quizzical glare.
"But you do not need me to tell you that your behavior this afternoon was entirely unacceptable." Draco's eye twitched slightly in a suppressed wince at Slughorn's tone. "I'm going to let it be this time, due to our little misunderstanding, but hear me now, my boy. If this happens again, there will be consequences."
Draco wasn't used to this stern version of Slughorn, but he knew better than to try his luck right now. He swallowed thickly and nodded in agreement. That seemed to please the old man, as his face lost a touch of its hardness.
"Very good," he said, a small smile slipping through. "Now, we can get down to business."
"I'm not working with Granger," Draco said sullenly. Almost petulantly.
"I hear what you're saying, my boy. Believe me, I do," Slughorn responded tiredly. He suddenly looked twice his age, and he wasn't exactly a spring chicken anymore. "Which is why I think I'm not really the best person to be explaining this situation to you."
Slughorn rose from his desk and flicked his wand at the ornate mirror next to him. The silver and copper piece wheeled around and seemed to float down the steps that led up to the desk until it reached the center of the room. Draco eyed the offending structure curiously.
"What is this?" he asked, looking back to Slughorn who, to his surprise, was standing by the door.
"A famous auror once said, 'Trust not your enemies, lest they deceive you. But trust in thy kith and kin, for they will reveal to you the world.' I am neither kith nor kin to you, my boy, thus there is very little reason for you to trust in why I am doing this for you. So I have called for someone you can trust," he breathed out, as if he was admitting defeat of some kind. "You have fifteen minutes, my boy. I hope you make it count."
And with that, the old wizard stepped out of the classroom and pulled the door shut behind him. Draco was more confused than ever before. What in Merlin's name was this man talking about? His question seemed to be answered as a sudden shimmer appeared on the mirror's surface. A ringing sound, like metal chains clinking together, emitted from within its depths. The mirror itself seemed to grow foggy, so much so that Draco could no longer make out his own reflection.
He took a tentative step back, watching the mirror curiously. It seemed as if the glass had been frosted over for a moment, before it receded from the edges of the frame. Slowly but surely, the image was becoming clear again. However, it wasn't Slughorn's office that reflected back at him. Draco blinked slowly as the last of frost receded back to the center, only to suppress a surprised gasp that instead came out as a quick intake of breath as he stared in surprise at the person in the mirror.
"Mother?"
.
6
"But if you listen close, you can still hear the boy in the man"
"Draco, sweetheart."
The young man stared for a moment longer before he finally approached the mirror. His expression was pained, but there was clear relief in his eyes at seeing his mother after so long. He raised his hand up to the mirror, his hand meeting the cool surface, not going any further. Draco hung his head slightly as he felt the disappointment bubble up. It had been nearly three months since he was at the Manor with his mother, and while the Malfoys weren't the most physically affectionate, his mother never wavered in gracing Draco with the smallest of touches.
Holding his hand while they walked the darkened halls. Grasping his shoulder in encouragement when he had achieved something. Brushing his hair back when it had fallen out of place. Her touches were gentle and full of love; no trace of malice or anger as he sometimes experienced with his father. And now, even with her right in front of him, she might as well not have been there at all.
He suddenly felt a gentle tap from the other side of the mirror. Draco looked up and found that where his hand rested, another met him on the other side of the mirror. And just like that, his mental walls seemed to have disappeared as his vision began to blur. He sniffed quickly and averted his gaze.
"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, his voice steady despite the array of emotions that ran through him.
"Do I need a reason to want to see my son?" she asked gently, her hand still in place. Draco remained silent.
"Your professor is quite a piece of work, isn't he?" Draco breathed out what could be considered a huff of laughter, finally meeting his mother's gaze. "But I suppose he isn't completely uncouth."
"He's alright," Draco responded quietly. "He treats me better than I deserve sometimes." He wasn't quite sure where the words were coming from, as he certainly had never thought these things before. But perhaps that's what made his bond with his mother so special. He found he could tell her anything in the world, even if it meant he would contradict himself later.
"He tells me you've been having some trouble these past few weeks," his mother probed, studying him slightly. "You haven't been sleeping, have you?"
For those who had seen Draco almost daily, there was little change in the Malfoy heir, but for his mother's keen eyes, there was much to address. She had seen him just under three months ago, and he seemed far from the fit young man he was at the start of the year. Granted, he hadn't been sleeping well at the manor either, but at least there was his mother. And she made sure he was taken care of.
Now, Draco was quite the ghost. His skin was incredibly pale, and while his clothes still fit him well, his shoulders filling out the oxford shirts quite nicely, there was a lankiness about him that Narcissa didn't like. Malnutrition and lack of sleep was a deadly combination. It was something she planned on seeing to.
"I'm fine, mother. Don't worry about me," Draco replied quietly.
"I'll always worry about you," she responded. There was a moment of silence, before Narcissa decided to address one of the many elephants in the room. "The Ministry has been monitoring our correspondence. I would have gotten word to you sooner if I could. I thought for sure that man would at least have some tact." Narcissa breathed out irritatedly. "But I suppose he had the common sense to arrange this meeting instead of continuing on the path he was already on."
Draco swallowed thickly, his hand pressing harder on the glass of the mirror.
"So what he said was true then? You agreed to having…her be my tutor?" Draco bit out eventually, struggling on the word her.
"I did," she answered calmly. "I told him to wait until my letter had reached you, but I suppose he wasn't aware of our little debacle with the Ministry. He most likely thought you received it this morning with the owl post."
Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. His mother had actually agreed to this? A part of him really hoped that it wasn't true, that Slughorn was simply trying to trick him into going along with his plans. But it seemed, after all was said and done, he was right after all.
Draco's brows furrowed in frustration as he finally dropped his hand from the mirror.
"Why?" he asked desperately. "Why her? Surely there were others you could have chosen from?"
Narcissa looked at him with a saddened expression and Draco knew what was coming. He was breathing heavily as he looked back at her.
"People fear what they don't understand, Draco. And we have always been an enigma to the world. The war did more damage to that than we sometimes care to admit," she finished pointedly. Draco found that his mother loved speaking in riddles. She always had. Because there were some things that you weren't allowed to say outright. But Draco knew how to speak her language. As she did his.
"They… No one… I don't…" the realisation hit home for Draco quite quickly. It wasn't that Slughorn chose Granger because of who she was, but rather because no one else wanted to be assigned to spend several hours alone with a Death Eater. The names on the list of tutors for Muggle Studies eluded him, not because he hadn't seen them, but because they were muggleborn names, names he would never have picked up on in a normal setting, much less remember. Which in turn, explained their fear. They were afraid that he would hurt them.
Narcissa felt heartbroken as she watched the emotions dance across Draco's face. From denial, to shock and then to anger. Firstly at them, and then at himself. And when the anger dissipated, she could only see Draco; a broken boy who didn't have any choice.
"Draco," she called, recapturing his attention. "I know you're angry, sweetheart. And you should be. It's not fair and your life should not be this difficult. But it is." Draco stared back at his mother, his eyes glassy now. "We've been playing the hand we've been dealt, and had we chosen differently, taken a path towards something else, things might have been better. Or far worse. We'll never know what could have happened. All we have is now, Draco. And this second chance is more than any of us could have hoped for."
If anyone else had been in the room at that moment, he most likely would have stormed out once again. But right now, he was alone with his mother. And he never needed to hide his emotions from her.
Narcissa felt her heart clench as she watched fresh tears trail down her son's face. His eyes were vulnerable as he sauntered over to the mirror again. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold onto him. But in spite of it all, a surge of relief flooded her, because for the first time since this war had taken hold of their lives, she could once again see the boy in him. A boy who wasn't afraid to show his emotions; a boy who desperately needed to be seen.
Draco swallowed thickly as he rested his head against the mirror, resting both hands on the frame. He tried to school his features into a dignified look, all the while trying to stop the seemingly endless flow of tears that tracked down his face.
"Sometimes, it does a body good to let the healing waters flow," Narcissa said gently, at which Draco closed his eyes. He had to agree with his mother on that front, it felt really good to finally let some of his pent up emotions out. He stayed like that for a few more moments, willing it to last longer than he knew they had. His mother seemed to notice this, too, as she finally broached the subject that had caused this encounter in the first place.
"Draco," she started quietly, seeking his attention. "We need to talk about your current situation."
Draco swallowed heavily, but nodded nonetheless, taking a few steps back. He sniffed as he quickly wiped at the remaining wetness on his face, before facing his mother again. He took a deep breath, not truly looking forward to what she was about to say.
"I understand you weren't too thrilled at the prospect of working with the Granger girl?"
Draco shot his mother a deadpanned look. Like she had to ask.
"It's Granger, mother," he answered, as if that explained everything. Narcissa however, fixed him with a pointed look, asking him to elaborate. "You can't be serious about this? I can't work with her," he pleaded.
"You can't? Or you won't?" she asked him, her one brow raised in question. A sigh escaped Draco's lips as he ran a hand through his hair, gripping it in frustration before letting it drop.
"We would kill each other," he muttered almost petulantly. "And she's-" he caught himself, swallowing the reflex string of slurs that were sure to follow.
"She's what?" Narcissa probed. Draco's face contorted in a pained expression as he was trying to formulate the right words.
"Surely you aren't still viewing her heritage as a handicap to her abilities?"
"Of course not," Draco huffed, pacing slightly. "She bested me in nearly every class. Whatever defect her heritage might be responsible for, it certainly had nothing to do with her intelligence." That was probably the closest he had ever come to complementing the Muggleborn.
"Then what seems to be the problem?" Narcissa asked patiently. Draco looked at her with a bewildered expression.
"Because it's her!" he answered, desperately hoping his mother would see reason.
"You've said that before, Draco, but I'm failing to see the point in your incessant reiterations of the same subject." Draco felt as if he were about to combust from the build up of emotions. Why wasn't she understanding this? He was waging a mental war with himself and he felt like he was losing. His mother was asking the simplest of questions, thus the answer should have come by easy.
Narcissa seemed to notice his distress and knew she had pushed him far enough.
"Draco, I know what this girl represents to you," she started, meeting his gaze as he stared at her hopelessly. "And asking her to do this wasn't easy. In fact, I'd wager it was one of the most difficult decisions I've had to make."
Draco was leaning against the desk now, his hands gripping the edges firmly while his eyes remained on the floor below them. But he was listening. He always listened when his mother spoke.
"I have no delusions as to what she is. We've been raised to hate the likes of her for far longer than this school has been standing. But… she is still human. And what she endured at the Manor is something I wouldn't wish on even the vilest of creatures."
Draco felt a slight tremble in his hand at the mention of what happened all those months ago, but he managed to steady himself.
"She didn't want to do it at first, you know?"
At this, he froze momentarily, before slowly raising his head to meet his mother's gaze. His eyes were slightly widened, his throat suddenly dry.
"It is my understanding that tutors are paid a small sum of galleons by the school's Faculty for every student they teach, however, the outcome is most certainly determined by whether or not said student passes or fails," she continued explaining. "Which made it quite understandable why she would rather not embark on this endeavor. That is, until I approached her earlier this week."
Draco felt as if he had gone mad. What was this woman saying?
"You spoke to her?" Draco asked incredulously, not even attempting to mask the shock on his face.
"In a manner of speaking," she replied. "I've only ever corresponded with her over owl, but the context is still the same."
For a moment, Draco stared at his mother as if she had just sprouted two heads. There was no reasonable explanation he could think of for the information she had just presented to him. It was as if he were in the twilight zone.
"I reached out to her after she declined the offer your professor had presented her with, which even I have to say was quite poor to begin with. She had her reasons for rejecting the offer of course, but the deciding factor was surprisingly not you. Rather, it was that she was already tutoring quite a handful of students at the time and wouldn't be able to fully commit to a task as… delicate as tutoring you would have been."
"But I-"
"Don't interrupt, Draco," his mother silenced his rebuttal quickly. Draco swallowed his retort obediently and allowed his mother to finish. "The Granger girl might be a muggleborn, but she far from being incompetent. She has a good head on her shoulders and the tenacity to see something through, despite the obstacles that arise in her path. And that is something we are in need of."
Draco hadn't moved an inch, and was still staring in quiet shock at his mother, baffled by her explanation. But he held his tongue, awaiting what was to follow.
"We eventually came to an understanding of sorts," Narcissa continued, folding her hands over each other in front of her. "Those under her tutelage have been reassigned so as to give her more time to focus on her lessons with you. She is certainly more than welcome to teach in her spare time, but her top priority at the moment is assisting you with Muggle Studies."
Draco felt as if the wind had been hit out of him. Surely he must have fallen somewhere and hit his head, because this was absolutely ludicrous! And what in the world could possibly have the Hermione Granger agree to this arrangement?
"What understanding?" he asked suddenly, catching his mother off guard.
"Pardon?" she asked pointedly, eliciting a small wince from Draco. It seemed he had forgotten all of his etiquette lessons over these past three months. He swallowed quickly before rephrasing his question.
"You said you've come to an 'understanding'. What was it?" he asked carefully. His mother seemed pleased with his wording as she regarded him with a gentle expression.
"I merely offered reparation for the coin lost by giving up her other obligations," she responded slowly. "It was through those means that I discovered how little the payment was for such endeavors in the school. She was quite shocked by the stipend offered, but accepted nonetheless."
"You offered to pay her?" Draco blurted out, his expression holding hints of anger.
"I did," she answered simply. "Your outrage is quite unjustified, Draco." That phrase alone seemed to stir the feeling even more. Draco found an odd sense of injustice. Why? There were many reasons for that, but at the moment, one seemed to take precedence. When Lucius Malfoy went to Azkaban, Draco was supposed to get his inheritance, which would have been quite the large sum of money. However, due to his Amnesty hearing, all talk of inheritance was postponed until after he completed his year at Hogwarts. Until then, his mother would be the sole beneficiary.
You can understand his frustration, seeing as Granger was seeing some of the money that he would likely never be privy to. Once again, she had bested him. The humiliation he was feeling at that moment was enough to justify his outrage. To him at least.
"Mother-"
"Draco, this isn't open for discussion," she affirmed. His mother had clearly already made up her mind on the situation and not even bothered to ask him about it first. To say he was upset, was a gross understatement.
"So that's it then? I just have to go along with this little charade and play house with the Mudblood?" the word was out before he even had a chance to stop it. And while he still held certain prejudices, he had tried his best not to overuse the word as he always had. This slip, however, left quite a bitter taste in his mouth, especially if you considered the look his mother was giving him in that moment. It wasn't anger, as he had expected, but rather something far, far worse. Disappointment.
"I don't expect you to be happy about this arrangement, Draco, especially considering your history with the girl. But you of all people should be able to understand when I say that she has suffered enough to grant her this small recompense," she finished quietly. Her words seemed to do the trick, as Draco's initial anger subsided ever so slightly, replaced now with a frown.
"I dislike the muggleborns as much as the next person, but that doesn't mean I cannot admit when I need their help. We both do. And that is going to require great restraint on your part. I've always tried my best to give you your heart's desires Draco. But now, I'm trying to give you what you need."
The room was deathly quiet, Draco's eyes glued to the ground. His expression was unsteady as he processed the words of his mother. The truth was, he despised Granger more now than ever before, not because she was a Mudblood, but because she reminded him of everything he failed to be. She reminded him of his guilt at standing by as innocent people were tortured.
There was that word again. Innocent. That was the horror of it all. A person couldn't understand the value of such a thing as innocence until he had all but lost it. And Draco had done more than just lose it, but in turn, allowed others to lose it as well. Granger reminded him that despite all of his hopes to redeem himself, he wasn't a good man. And when everyone believed you to be the villain, was there truly any reason to be someone else?
"I can't…" he muttered, his face stricken with emotions he felt he would never find the words for.
"You can't what?" Narcissa asked calmly, carefully.
"I can't do it," he admitted, his voice on the verge of breaking from the strain of his emotions. If he had looked up at his mother right then, he would have seen her eyes fill with unshed tears. No mother wanted this for their child, and seeing Draco so broken was more than she could bear. But if there was one thing Narcissa knew how to do well, it was to endure.
"You can," she encouraged, her voice thick with sadness. "You must." Draco flinched slightly at her last statement. It was quiet for a long time, the silence heavier than the weight of many regrets, when Draco finally nodded in agreement. It was slow, painfully so, but it was there.
Narcissa breathed out a timid sigh of relief as a grateful smile spread across her features.
"You are stronger than you give yourself credit, Draco. And you make me so proud," she said with a slightly choked voice. Draco didn't dare meet his mother's eyes for fear that his own emotions would betray him.
Just then, the classroom door opened and Slughorn entered. Draco sniffed as he stood from Slughorn's desk, clearing his throat as he regained his composure before meeting the professor's grey hues.
"I trust all went well?" Slughorn asked gingerly, glancing between Draco and the reflection in the mirror. Narcissa offered him a small smile, all signs of the emotional moment between her and Draco now gone from her face. It was as if nothing had happened in the first place.
"Indeed, it did, Horace," Narcissa's even voice replied. "Thank you for allowing me to see my son."
"Not to worry dear, it was no trouble!" Slughorn bellowed, a hearty laugh escaping him as he clasped Draco's shoulder. "If anything, I should be thanking you! A mother's touch is sometimes more potent than any lecture." Draco stiffened under Slughorn's touch, sneering slightly at the audacity of the old man. Narcissa must have seen it as Draco swore he saw her stifle a chuckle.
"I can't tell you how elated I am that this matter has been settled!" Slughorn rambled on, oblivious to the morose look Draco shared with his mother. He was dwelling on what he had agreed to do, and while Narcissa knew it was what was best, she still cast a sympathetic look his way, giving a slight roll to her eyes at Slughorn's antics. She caught the small twitch at the corner of Draco's mouth, even as he tried his best to hide it.
"Now then," she breathed, looking to Slughorn. "Allow me a moment to bid my son farewell?" The old professor's eyebrows shot up suddenly in realisation.
"Oh, of course, of course!" he said, stepping away from Draco. "Don't mind me, I'll just be in the back room!" he called, stepping into the storage room leading off from his office. The door was left open as he plotted about inside, the noise echoing into the small office.
Draco slowly walked up to the mirror again, a frosty coat appearing around the edges. He supposed this meant the 15 minutes Slughorn had promised him were finally coming to an end. He swallowed thickly as he stood in front of his mother once more.
"I know this isn't easy for you," she said, raising her hand to the mirror. Draco mimicked the gesture in tandem. "But I need you to promise me something. Please?" He slowly met her gaze, his stoic features contrasting wildly with his emotive eyes. The storm clouds were closing in again, but they would never completely shut her out. "Try not to shut too many people out. You've been occluding for a very long time, Draco. And it was necessary back then. But it's not anymore." Uncertainty flickered in Draco's eyes at the prospect of relinquishing the shields of his mind.
"The war is over, Draco," she added, her image fading slightly. "You've been holding your breath waiting for the other shoe to fall. It has. You can exhale now." Draco blinked away the burning sensation in his eyes. "Promise me that you'll try?" It was getting harder to see his mother on the other side of the mirror, but he could still make out her face and the shape of her hand against his. Her eyes were pleading with him and that was all it took.
"I promise."
The last thing Draco saw before the mirror reverted back to its normal form was the joyous smile his mother gave him.
.
7
"Somewhere between right and wrong there is a garden… I will meet you there."
The owls flew in with the post the next morning, delivering all sorts of packages in varying shapes and sizes. It was most likely due to the fast approaching Christmas holidays, but Draco didn't let his thoughts wander too much. Instead, he focused on his own letter that arrived that morning. It was from his mother.
The date however, was from a few days prior. Draco frowned at the implication. It meant his mother was correct in her assumption about the delay in their owls. He tore open the envelope quickly and skimmed over the message written inside. It explained the just of what was said in Slughorn's office the previous evening, but he found himself reading it anyway. It was when he finally reached the bottom of the page that his eyes found new information. His mother's neat script was easy on the eyes, but the wording itself was quite jarring for him.
Don't be too hard on the Granger girl. For whatever reason she's doing this, it seems to weigh heavy on her.
Draco blinked down at the page for a few moments before his eyes slowly traveled up and across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table. He found her instantly. Draco had always thought she would be surrounded by friends upon her return to Hogwarts. Lately he was seeing the flaws in his reasoning. She was indeed sitting amongst the other Gryffindors, such as the Weaslette and Longbottom, but instead of engaging in whatever conversation they were having, she seemed far too focussed on picking at her meal.
He studied her for a few moments, watching her with scrutiny. There was indeed something different about her. And he had the whole year ahead of him where that question just might be answered.
Author's Note: Thank you guys for reading! Hope you liked it.
As always, friendly disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned in the story belong to JK Rowling.