A/N: Happy times later still guaranteed! Press on, dear readers!
On the train steaming away from Hogwarts for Christmas holidays, Pansy Parkinson lay back across two seats with her head in Ron Weasley's lap as he stroked the sleek black hair off her forehead, smirking as he did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in his place.
"Flagrant enough for them?" Ron beamed down into her face.
"Plenty," Harry answered from the opposite seat.
If he was to be frank, Harry preferred that his friends be in secret relationships. In fact,he thought, secret relationships should be the only ones allowed at school. It would have spared him having to see Ginny Weasley with Dean Thomas all term. At least Hermione and filthy Malfoy were still underground. He shuddered at the thought of what his social life would be like if she showed up in the compartment with Malfoy draped all over herself. But at least then it would be easier to keep an eye on him.
Harry was trying his best not to keep an eye on Ron and Pansy, but as far as being stuck alone with a teenaged couple went, they could have been worse company. Maybe it was thanks to a lifetime as Ginny's older brother that Ron was comfortable relating to Pansy in a way that was more fun than it was cringingly romantic. At the moment, he was weaving tiny plaits into her fringe, teasingly raving about how stunning they looked as she complained and tried to undo them.
They were just getting loud and grabby about it when Padma Patil slid the door of their compartment open. "Up you get, fellow prefects," she said. "Hermione and I have been on duty since Hogsmeade. We're done."
Pansy was sitting up, shaking Ron's handiwork out of her hair. Padma looked the pair of them over with open distaste before she tossed her head and left.
"Good friend of Lavender Brown's," Harry explained.
Ron started to shrink into the corner of his seat but Pansy huffed and said, loud enough for Padma to hear from the corridor before the door clunked shut, "Oh honestly, that was ages ago." She was on her feet, slipping into her robes, leaving, Ron following.
Alone in the compartment, Harry sat with his back against the chilly window pane, fingering the bridge of his nose, wondering if there was any point in getting up to look for Malfoy. Based on the conversation he heard between Snape and Malfoy outside Slughorn's party, Malfoy was definitely working on something - something so awful he was hiding it from Snape himself.
If it was that bad, then Hermione couldn't possibly know anything about it either, otherwise... How did those two keep it all straight?
Relieved of her duties, Hermione was making her way down the train, back to the compartment where she'd seen Harry and Ron, bracing herself for making conversation with Pansy, the only other person of her acquaintance who shared her knowledge of what Draco's mouth tasted like. She bowed with relief when she found Harry alone.
"So where is he?" Harry began, meaning Malfoy, of course.
She was easing a very irate Crookshanks out of his cat carrier. "I haven't seen him since he took me aside and said - something very nice to me at the station." Whatever it was, she still seemed a little flustered by it, smiling into the top of Crookshanks's head. "He'll be sitting with the rest of Slytherin sixth years now, I suppose. The train is closely watched. You know that. Best to just ignore each other and act normal."
Harry snickered darkly at Hermione's concept of normal. "And he's heading back to Malfoy Manor?"
Crookshanks turned in a circle on her lap. "Yes, of course, Harry. He's going home for Christmas like everyone else on the train." She flushed red with regret, remembering too late that Harry was not technically going home. "Sorry."
Harry leaned forward. "There are Death Eaters at his house."
"Yes. It's awful for him."
"Heading home to have Christmas dinner with Death Eaters. Nice."
She stopped scratching Crookshanks's ears. "I hardly see what other alternatives he has. It's not like he's got any say in who his parents take in. And he certainly didn't invite them himself. When you're in a family, you just have to - "
Harry wasn't staying to have the rules of being in a family explained to him. "I need to stretch my legs," he said, sliding down the length of his seat and tugging on the door, rising to turn sharply into the corridor, as if he had somewhere to go. It was then that he crashed hard into Professor Snape.
With any other professor, Harry would have apologized immediately and profusely, but with Snape, all he said was, "Excuse me, professor. I didn't expect to see you on the train."
Snape looked down at him without glaring, without sneering, and with a cool, quiet, unasked for explanation. "On the headmaster's instructions, I am travelling home with Mr. Malfoy, to spend the holidays as his houseguest."
Harry startled. "Why?"
The glare flamed to life. "That does not concern you, Potter."
"Then why come and tell me?"
His voice grew quieter as Harry's grew louder. "To let you know that you may set your concerns aside and enjoy a pleasant holiday with your friends without your usual - vigilance. Your assignment from the headmaster pertains to Professor Slughorn, and since he will NOT be available to you over Christmas, you may stand down."
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Mr. Potter, whatever it is you are worried about, you may trust that we have it in hand - "
Harry raised himself up into Snape's face. "But you don't, do you? I heard you and Malfoy in the corridor last night, your pleading with him to confide in you. We still have no idea what he's doing."
Snape seized him by the front of his jacket. "For the next few weeks I have access to his home and family life, an opportunity you do not have, and with which you MUST not interfere."
Harry pulled himself free from Snape's grip, and stomped away down the swaying carriage, glancing in each compartment window for Malfoy's white head. He stopped in front of a door with its window blind pulled shut. The sight of it made him freeze, as if petrified, as he was the last time he'd ridden this train, when Draco Malfoy, without wand or incantation, lowered all the blinds of a train car at once, and proceeded to break his nose.
Malfoy was in there, behind the blind even now, getting away with everything.
Hermione stood on the platform in King's Cross trying to convince herself to walk away and leave Draco for Christmas holidays without another word. Since her parents could not come through the barrier, she was wrangling her luggage alone, as always, Crookshanks protesting about his handling as loudly as he could from inside his carrier.
"It's alright, my darling, beautiful boy. I'll have you safe and out of there soon," she called much more loudly than necessary through the cat carrier. "We'll be together again. Until then, be good."
Across the platform, Draco listened to her sweet talk and grinned into his luggage. His mother hadn't come for him either. It was Snape who was his escort, the pair of them traveling together, moving through the crowd to get clear of the station to where Snape could apparate them on to Wiltshire and the manor.
Hermione hoped to catch Draco's eye one last time before they separated, but couldn't get the timing right. Unable to dawdle any longer, she sighed and darted through the barrier, into the Muggle area of King's Cross.
As she came through, her trunk caught on something, jolting her off balance, sending her scrambling, juggling packages to protect Crookshanks's carrier, letting her trunk crash and skid away from her, grinding to a stop on the dirty floor.
"Hermione, darling!" It was the voice of her father. She tore her eyes away from her scattered belongings to see Dr. Tim Granger, DDS, hurrying towards her. His wife, Dr. Ann Granger, DDS, was at his side, her arms outstretched to take the meowing cat carrier.
"Still alive, Crooksie? Yes, and it's good to have you back too, my girl," she said, kissing Hermione dryly but warmly on the cheek. Then she was talking to someone else, over Hermione's shoulder. "Yes, that's ours. Thank you, young man."
It was Draco. He had rushed to cross the barrier just after her and may have actually been what her trunk had caught on. He had retrieved it and brought it back to her, now handing it to Tim Granger. Hermione saw him as she hoped her parents were seeing him. A tall, fair boy, slim and elegant. His expression was one of quiet fascination, his manner pleasant, his actions helpful. Here in this Muggle world of theirs, where Dark magic and marks and lords were just fairy stories, he was free to be quite simply the most sublime creature she had ever seen.
That was what Hermione was thinking as her father accepted her trunk from Draco as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "I'll take it, thanks ever so much," Tim Granger was saying, turning back to his family.
The Grangers had dismissed Draco but he lingered, studying their forms and faces, wide-eyed, as Hermione watched him watching all of them. "No, it's no trouble at all," he said, his cheeks flushed red at the sound of his own voice speaking to them.
Tim looked over his shoulder, startled to find the helpful boy still there. And Ann looked sideways at Hermione, who she did not fail to notice was also blushing, her hands wringing the fabric of her beaded bag, as if she were holding them back from grabbing at something.
"Well…" Tim was clearing his throat, about to dismiss Draco again, perhaps more forcefully when Snape appeared.
"This way," Snape said to Draco, rushing past, barely nodding to the Grangers, offering them an icy, "Good day."
Tim pointed a finger at Snape's retreating back. "That's your teacher, isn't it darling? The one you don't get on with."
Hermione smirked. "Yes, that's him. Professor Snape. He taught me - erm - chemistry."
"So odd that your teachers act like they've all got doctoral degrees. Suppose it explains the pricey tuition. Does nothing to explain why they want it paid in gold."
Ann turned to Hermione, one eyebrow raised. "That boy must be one of your people too. Looks like a vampire from a romance novel. Very fancy."
Hermione uttered a thin nervous laugh. "He's not a vampire, just aristocratic."
"Not much difference there, don't you reckon?" Tim laughed.
Ann snorted. "Whatever he is, I do hope he'll spend his holidays somewhere sunny."
Hermione felt like she might burst. "He won't. Mum, that boy is Draco Malfoy." It was the first time she'd spoken his name anywhere in the Muggle world. She heard the unreality of it, here in the Muggle train station. It sounded like a romance novel vampire name too.
Tim frowned at it, craning to take another look at the blond head bobbing away from them through the crowd. "You mean to say that's the boy who tampered with your teeth and completely undermined our orthodontic treatment plan?"
"Yes, dad. That's him."
He was still frowning. "Whatever happened to the big Russian? He was something."
"Bulgarian," Ann corrected. "Viktor."
Hermione laughed. "Oh, dad. He's been gone for ages."
"And the dreamy red-head?" Tim went on.
"You know the Weasleys, Tim," Ann chided him. "They're her second family. She spends all her holidays trying to end up at theirs." Ann arched her brow at Hermione again, linking their arms at the elbow. "But not this time."
Tim Granger shook his head as he hoisted Hermione's trunk. She shrugged through a smile. Her mother grinned coyly, repeating quietly. "Draco Malfoy, is it? I see."
With a rush and a spin, Draco was standing with Snape not in inner Muggle London but in the lane in front of Malfoy Manor. From outside, the house looked like it always did at Christmastime - the dark roof lightly dusted with snow, holly boughs on every window sill, frost on all of its diamond panes. Snape did not attempt to hold Draco back as he bolted for the doors, stomping inside.
His mother hadn't come to meet him at the train station for the first time in all his comings and goings from school because she'd been contacted by the Auror Office in the morning, informed that her Christmas visit to Azkaban would have to be later that day. Draco had asked her to reschedule it, so she wouldn't have to go alone but the Aurors wouldn't wait.
"Your mistress, where is she?" he asked the house elf trying to coax him out of his wet shoes at the foot of the grand staircase.
She was upstairs, in bed where she'd been ever since the Aurors sent her home through the floo. Since his father was taken away, she hadn't been sleeping in the room they had shared but in a smaller suite, lavish for most homes but positively barren by Malfoy Manor standards. Draco crossed the floor and sank to his knees on the carpet beside the bed. She lay shaking under the coverlet.
"Mother?"
She was awake and calling his name in return, grabbing at his hands. "Draco - Lucius - your father - in there - I can't bear it." She wept against his neck, his arms around her shoulders. "You're a good lad, aren't you Draco? You'll help the Dark Lord bring your father home to us. You'll save our home, our family, our very lives, won't you?"
He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I've been making progress, Mother. Yes."
She was murmuring maniacally against his neck. "The cursed necklace was a disaster. It was my fault. I'm so sorry, darling. But the other project - the rest of it - you have good news to report, don't you Draco? Please, he's impatient - suffering, sick - "
Draco tried to push her back far enough to see her face. "Father is sick?"
She clung to him. "No - well, yes. That's to be expected, where he is. But he is sick as well - him, the Dark Lord. Severus won't tell me how or why but he suffers - "
The door to the bedroom banged open. "Hold your tongue, Cissie." Aunt Bella stood in the doorway looking like something all the holly should have kept out of the house.
Maybe he'd been a prefect too long, but without thinking Draco was shushing his Aunt Bella. He nearly asked her to stop gawking and posing and bring his mother a calming draught, but she didn't look like she'd ever seen one herself. He tried to stand, prying Narcissa's hands from his neck through her sobs and protests.
"Mother, professor Snape is here. I'll fetch him now. He can bring you something to help you sleep."
"Not yet he can't," Bella said, approaching the Malfoys from behind. "Snape is in conference with the Dark Lord. And when he's finished, Draco," she leaned forward, speaking so her breath would tickle the back of her nephew's neck as he sat on the bed, "it will be your turn." She leaned closer, her breath wafting huskily into his ear. "Are you frightened, Cissie's precious baby boy, luscious Lucius's son and heir?"
Draco hid his shudder in the motion of patting his mother on the back. "I have no cause to be scared. I've served the Dark Lord well."
Bellatrix stumbled backward, screeching peals of laughter.
"Oh, get out, Bella. Go!" Narcissa commanded.
Beneath Bellatrix's feet the rug began to slowly roll itself up, conveying her away from the Malfoys, toward the bedroom door. She hopped off the rug but then the floor seemed somehow inclined, tipping her away from the house's masters. "Go and sic your haunted house on me, will you Cissie?"
Narcissa rounded on her sister with hot red eyes. "Not if you leave me in peace to grieve my husband's suffering, I won't."
Bella was screaming. "I knew it. You lack faith in the power of the Dark Lord to right all our wrongs."
"Silence!" Snape was standing in the doorway now, black-robed, furious. "Draco Malfoy, you get your house in order. You must learn to assert yourself when your loved ones become hysterical. Bellatrix you will quit these chambers at once."
She slunk out of the bedroom, blowing one last kiss at Draco and his mother.
Draco let out his breath. "Mother's been to Azkaban today. She needs a calming draught - "
"And I will administer one to her while you meet with the Dark Lord. Immediately."
Narcissa's sniffling stopped.
Draco looked to Snape, terrified. "You're not coming with me?"
Snape approached the bed, succeeding in taking both of Narcissa's hands off of Draco and holding them in his. "No."
She rose to her knees, clawing her way up Snape's sleeve. "He's just a boy, Severus. You swore - "
"I did," he hissed. "And I promise he will survive the night."
Draco stood by his mother's bed, fixed on the improbable sight of her clutching at Severus Snape.
"Listen to me," Snape said, refocusing Draco's attention. "From the moment you open the door to the room where he lies, Draco, your powers of occulmency must be fully engaged."
He scoffed. "Yes, you've already made that point."
Snape wrenched himself free of Narcissa's hold and stepped away from her bedside to whisper to him. "Draco, I am sorry there is nothing more I can do tonight. If you can't keep HER identity hidden from him, expect to see her kidnapped and brought here before morning. In that event I'll send a distress call to the Order for rescue, but otherwise, she will have no chance. The Dark Lord will destroy her to find the relief he seeks."
"Unless the charm protects her, like it does me?" Draco was quick to offer.
Snape bowed his head for a moment, as if gathering strength. "That was not how this kind of spell worked for Lily Evans. Truly, it saved her son but she - as you well know, she is no more."
Draco grabbed a handful of Snape's robes. "But you said to yourself, sir, Hermione's charm is not the same as Mrs. Potter's."
Snape covered Draco's hand with his own. "I said so from a position of despair and disgust, not knowledge. I simply do not know, not yet. I cannot say. I promise nothing."
Draco's face dropped into his hands, his fingers clawing at his own hair. "I never should have let her - I didn't know. I should have known - "
"It's too late for any of that, Draco." Snape's voice was suddenly sharp with impatience.
Draco was muttering to himself. "Time, I've got to get us more time."
"No, do not keep him waiting any longer," Snape was pushing him toward the door. "Go. Go and fight."