A/N: I'm very sorry about the long wait! I've been traveling like mad and I'm busy with rehearsals for a production I'm in and flying all over the place. Thank you so much for your reviews and I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter. Hopefully it won't be too long until the next one...
Trigger Warnings: Mentioned execution, racism, mentioned starvation
Narcissa's hands froze on the teapot and her eyes closed, her face conveying an expression of pain. She exhaled and set the teapot down, suddenly seeming exhausted. Hermione's anxiety mounted exponentially.
"I cannot say." Narcissa declared finally.
"Why not?" Hermione barely allowed Narcissa time to breathe before she continued her interrogation. "Because you don't want to tell me or because you don't know?"
Narcissa's eyes were fixed on the table, though she looked like she was seeing through it and into another world entirely. "Both" she said quietly. "I can barely work out the reasons myself, let alone explain them to another."
"Why did you help me? Are you on my side?"
At that question, Narcissa's head snapped up and she gave Hermione a look of some of the most intense sadness she'd ever seen. "You do not know what it was like to live among them—to cohabitate with him. You cannot imagine the atmosphere, the horrors and unspeakable actions which were executed with glee. To see you there, a peer of my own son… I could not bear it."
Hermione stared Narcissa down across the table, almost daring the other woman to assume Hermione was naïve to the ways of the Death Eaters. Part of her was proud that her assumptions about Narcissa's motivation were somewhat correct, but she was not yet satisfied. When Narcissa did not continue, Hermione interjected,
"Alright, but why are you here now? Why did you help me escape? Do you oppose Voldemort?"
Narcissa flinched and pressed a hand to her forehead in distress. "Please, do not say that name!"
"If you're going to stay with me, you'd better get used to hearing that name," snapped Hermione sourly. "Or are you not going to stay? Are you going to run away from me, too?"
Hermione was shocked by her own words. Her voice was full of bitter venom and her emotions were turbulent; she was taken aback by how desperately she didn't want Narcissa to abandon her. Naturally it made sense, considering this was the one person in the world who was helping her, but the severity of her reaction was nonetheless unexpected.
"I will not leave you," Narcissa answered firmly. "But I am not here due to political convictions."
Hermione frowned. "Then why are you here?" More gently, she added, "Please, I need to know if I can trust you."
Narcissa took a few slow breaths, as though the very discussion was draining her energy. She was silent for many long moments and each word sounded strained as she slowly answered, "I am here because I can no longer stand by as the innocent are harmed. I wish for this war—for this suffering to be over, and I do not believe that it will cease if the Dark Lord is victorious."
Hermione took a minute to process Narcissa's answer, then hesitantly summarized it aloud. "So you're on my side because you think that if we win, if Voldemort is defeated—" Hermione ignored Narcissa's cringe and went on, "it will lead to fewer deaths."
Narcissa gave a tentative nod.
"You realise that if we fail and Voldemort wins, we'll both be executed. There will be absolutely no way to claim you are innocent in his eyes."
Narcissa nodded again.
"So, what about the fact that it means having to ally yourself with me?" Hermione rushed on. "Me, a Mudblood witch," Narcissa had the grace to look affronted by Hermione's use of the slur, but Hermione did not falter for a moment. "It goes against everything you were ever taught, your very way of life, but you're going to throw it all away simply because you're sick of the carnage?"
Narcissa frowned and huffed in frustration. "I will not lie and claim that I believe purity of blood to be irrelevant," she began, her tone a bit more firm than it had been before, "but I do not believe it warrants the destruction and terrorism carried out by the Dark Lord and his followers."
"And your family? What about them? You're going to leave them, too?" Hermione felt the slightest bit guilty for bringing up such a sensitive topic in the midst of a tense debate, but she was desperate to work out Narcissa's motives and the extent of her trust.
Narcissa's response was feral. "Do not dare suggest that I would abandon my family in an act of fear or selfishness!" she hissed, giving Hermione a cold glare. "I would do no such thing for you, nor for the Dark Lord. I am here because of my love for my son, not in spite of it." Lifting her chin, Narcissa took a sip of tea and Hermione looked down to her lap.
"I understand you want to save Draco," said Hermione more compassionately, "and that your concern from him has nothing to do with politics. I don't blame you for what you've done to help him, or think of you as cowardly for it. It's rather brave, actually." She gave Narcissa a timid smile from across the table, hoping to soothe the wounds she'd inflicted with her harsh words.
The woman appeared to be surprised by Hermione's change in demeanour and quick inclination to kindness. Narcissa's eyes widened noticeably and she seemed momentarily speechless by Hermione's empathy; Hermione guessed that it wasn't a common trait in the Death Eater's den. She was probably more familiar with backstabbing and manipulation than friendliness. Hermione now felt personally responsible for proving to Narcissa that humanity was better.
"Thank you," Narcissa said softly, earnestly; clearly very touched by Hermione's words. The atmosphere between them suddenly felt far less strained. "Though I believe you should know that while I am dedicated to the welfare of my son, I do not share the same concern for my husband." Narcissa sighed sadly as Hermione listened with curiosity. "I'm afraid he turned cold many years ago. The Dark Lord has blackened him with fear and paranoia; there is nothing that can be done for him."
Narcissa's words pulled Hermione back to her memory of the man in question hunting her down in the Department of Mysteries, flanked by his comrades, and her blood turned cold. Yet despite her knowledge of Lucius Malfoy's actions, she could not help but feel a tinge of sadness at his wife's resignation towards him. That she had lost all hope for his redemption seemed tragic and Hermione wondered how many other marriages were casualties of this war.
"Very well," Hermione said, effectively concluding the debate. Both women relaxed and Hermione nibbled at a slice of peach from the bowl of fruit, relieved that Narcissa had not revealed any abhorrent ideologies in the course of their discussion. The prospect of being abandoned by her only—what was Narcissa, anyway? A friend? Another victim of war? Unwilling ally? Regardless, Hermione knew that they would not survive long without the other.
"I loathe to think that you associate me with the Dark Lord or his actions." Narcissa whispered after a silent pause. "I bear no mark of any tyrant, and I shall never yoke myself to any master such as he."
Hermione didn't know what to say to that. It felt like such a deeply intimate confession and any sort of verbal response seemed inadequate. She stared at Narcissa and found her gazing forlornly into her cup of tea.
"I know," Hermione said slowly and just as softly. More strongly, she continued, "I know you never were and never will be allied to any of them."
"I beg you not to dismiss me or my value as a friend," Hermione's eyebrows rose at the word but Narcissa went on, "simply because I have an unsavoury history and my ideologies may occasionally conflict with yours." Narcissa met Hermione's eyes and Hermione felt like this was the moment of understanding she'd needed, to deeply know for certain that they were on the same side.
Hermione nodded and gave her a small smile. "I think your unique viewpoint will be helpful, actually," she suggested optimistically, her tone becoming more conversational as the heat of their debate dissipated.
"I certainly hope it will be," answered Narcissa, reaching to take a sip of tea. Hermione had the distinct impression that they'd returned to casual breakfast conversation and began to eat a piece of toast.
"This jam is very good," commented Hermione.
Narcissa smiled in amusement, obviously noticing Hermione's poorly concealed attempt to move onto easier topics. "Yes, it is." Pointing to a platter of pastries, Narcissa said, "You must try the pain au chocolat; it really is quite wonderful."
Hermione took a warm pastry and sunk her teeth into it, the chocolate blissfully melting across her tongue. Her turbulent emotions were beginning to settle and for the first time she felt as though she and Narcissa were on an equal footing and, against all odds, they would be okay.
"I don't think I can eat anymore," declared Hermione forty minutes later.
"Are you sure?" Narcissa frowned. "You have lost so much weight in the past month."
Hermione sighed. "I don't think it would be wise to eat much more after going so long with so little," she smiled gratefully for Narcissa's concern.
"Very well, but you must take care to eat more as your strength returns."
Hermione was touched by Narcissa's obvious concern and gave her a nod of promise.
Narcissa seemed satisfied. "Very good," she said in a business-like tone and set about stacking all the dirty plates. But after a moment of thought, she appeared to be rather clueless. "How do we dispose of these dishes?"
Hermione smiled. "We leave them outside the door and someone will come to collect them."
"Similar to a house elf," Narcissa mused thoughtfully and Hermione couldn't help but cringe. Narcissa noticed this and smiled wryly. "Ah, now I remember: Draco spoke at length of your endeavour to liberate the house elves."
Hermione blushed, feeling rather self-conscious as she tried to defend herself. "The enslavement of another species is cruel and unfair," she responded, feeling rather silly for being the Hogwarts know-it-all in a Muggle hotel with a Pureblood witch. It was like two bizarre universes clashing together in a confusing an inconceivable encounter. "The wait staff who work here are paid for their services and are treated with respect and dignity by their employers and patrons."
"And this is how you believe it should be for house elves in the Wizarding World," Narcissa concluded, still smiling in amusement from across the table. Hermione almost wished she would get angry; her friendliness felt like a dead-end and she didn't know how to react.
"Yes, more or less," she stated plainly.
Narcissa hummed in consideration and stood, moving the platters onto the empty trolley and pushing it to the door. Hermione watched, trying to decode the woman's reaction. Decades of practice at crafting facades had made Narcissa an impossible book to read and Hermione, whose speciality was supposed to be books, was rather frustrated and puzzled.
"Would you get the door for me, please?"
"Yes, of course," Hermione stood from her seat and noted happily that for the first time in ages, the action didn't trigger any dizziness. With more strength in her step, she held the door open for Narcissa and helped set out the trolley and dishes in the corridor against the bland wallpaper. Hermione found herself studying Narcissa carefully, but all she could discern was a look of contemplation in the older woman's tired eyes.
"What do you think?" Hermione blurted as they went back inside their room.
"Pardon?"
"About the house elf thing," Hermione clarified, feeling exceedingly foolish.
"There are many who would dismiss the merit of your idea simply because of your heritage," Narcissa stated bluntly. "And while I certainly think that your opinion—not only on this particular matter, but many other magical ones as well—demonstrates a certain ignorance as to the ways of Wizarding society," Hermione's gaze hardened at the mild insult. "I can certainly see the benefits of your proposition and do not think that it should automatically be disqualified, however. Should it ever come to fruition, I should be interested to see how it unfolds."
Hermione spoke slowly, confused by the contradicting sentiments in Narcissa's answer. "So you think it's possible and that my ideas aren't automatically worthless because I'm Muggleborn?"
"Yes, I suppose that would be a more concise way of putting it."
Hermione gave a short nod, mulling over Narcissa's words. Hermione hadn't expected such a well thought-out answer—perhaps it was rather prejudiced, but she'd always thought of Narcissa Malfoy as a bit of a trophy wife who blindly followed the will of men surrounding her. The Narcissa with her now, who gave insightful comments and was what Hermione could only describe as friendly was a rather pleasant surprise.
"Have I offended you?" Hermione looked up to find Narcissa frowning in concern.
"No!" answered Hermione quickly. "Not at all. Sorry, I was just thinking."
Narcissa relaxed. "Good. I am sorry if I ever say something impolite. It is entirely unintentional, I assure you, and please do not hesitate to instruct me should I make a mistake." With a look of infinite earnestness which made Hermione feel safer than she had in a very long time, Narcissa added more gently, "I am trying, I promise."
Hermione smiled. "I know."