News of Hermione's return spread quickly among wizarding Britain following the confrontation with the press in the foyer. Shortly afterwards most of the DA — as well as the Slytherins — descended on the Ministry, in definance of the late hour. Despite considerable effort by Minister Shacklebolt, he was unable to convince them that Hermione was fine, their presence wasn't needed, and to go home and back to bed.
In the end, as a compromise — and, probably, to avoid getting in trouble — Harry had graciously offered to host an impromptu celebration at Grimmauld Place if everyone promised to do as they were told and bugger off until a more reasonable hour.
"First thing this morning," Harry promised the group. "It's number twelve. It has charms on it to conceal it from Muggles, so you'll need to visualise the address to see it."
"It's morning now," Seamus piped up after glancing at his watch. "Ten past twelve. That's first thing. Shall we head straight to yours, then?"
Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't be facetious, Finnegan. When I said first thing, I did not mean the stroke of midnight."
"Well, maybe you should be more specific," Seamus said, cheekily. "Else we might decide to show up any time from now." He glanced around at the others, looking for support.
"Don't be an arse, Seamus," Dean said. "Harry, what time is reasonable?"
"Is it too much to ask that no one shows up before eight am?" Harry said. "Hermione will want a decent bit of rest tonight, I'm sure."
Draco envisioned his getaway with Hermione being pushed back further and further. He didn't want to deny her friends the chance to welcome her back — they'd been just as worried about her as he had — but on the other hand he resented having to share her with them. He just wanted some time alone with her, to talk through what future they might have and simply bask in her presence. Besides, an early morning celebration wasn't exactly conducive to the healer's orders that Hermione rest.
Finally, with a great deal of reluctance, everyone agreed to go home. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as relative peace descended over the room.
"Your friends are a bloody menace, Potter," Shacklebolt said grumpily. "I've a mind to ban them all from the Ministry, or at least the DMLE offices."
"Hey it wasn't just my friends," Harry said, indignant. "His friends were here, too!" He gestured at Draco.
"My friends weren't causing a scene," Draco retorted, amused. "They were simply here for Hermione."
"Who was here for me?"
Draco turned and smiled to see Hermione entering the room via the door she'd disappeared through earlier. Robards was behind her, looking both satisfied and resigned. Draco hadn't thought it could be possible to show two such expressions at once, but nevertheless, there they were. He wondered what Hermione had managed to get Robards to agree to.
"Your friends and supporters," Shacklebolt grumbled. "And a right nuisance they were being too, insisting they see you, refusing to leave. Mr Potter had to take…measures to convince them to clear out."
"Oh?" Hermione said, eyeing Harry. "And what measures would those be?"
"Um, Hermione," Harry said. "I hope you won't be annoyed, but… I might have promised to host a celebration at Grimmauld Place, so they could all welcome you back properly."
"You look like you're regretting that offer already, so I'll reserve judgement," Hermione replied. "I'm sure it won't be a problem. When will we expect them all — in the afternoon, I expect? I hope it won't clash with whatever Draco might have planned." She cut her eyes to Draco, then frowned and returned her gaze to Harry, who looked slightly nervous.
"What time did you tell people they should arrive, Harry?" she asked.
"Um… eight o'clock."
"Oh. Well, that's a bit late, but I suppose—" She turned back to Draco. "Draco, you don't mind leaving later in the evening?"
Draco felt his face twitch. He had the mad urge to laugh. No, leaving in the evening wouldn't be a problem at all, as long as he kept his alcohol consumption to a minimum beforehand.
"It's…er… not eight o'clock this evening," Harry muttered, looking at his shoes. "It's eight am this morning."
"This morn—! Bloody hell, Harry, that's in seven hours!" Hermione exclaimed. "What were you thinking?"
"I panicked," Harry said, desperately. "They wouldn't leave, and I said I'd have everyone over in the morning if they'd just go home, and Seamus said it was already morning and should they all head over now, so I suggested the most reasonable time I could think of, and—"
He stopped rambling and looked at Hermione with a pleading expression. "I'm sorry. Please don't be too cross. I'll ward and silence your room so you can get some proper rest without them bothering you. Don't feel like you have to come down right away."
Hermione looked at Harry with equal parts exasperation and amusement. "It's all right, Harry. You meant well. I promise I'm not cross. Besides, I have an errand to run, so I'll be up early anyway."
"You're not?" Harry looked relieved, then suspicious. "Wait, what errand?"
"Just a small thing I need to do, don't worry about it." She flapped her hand dismissively. "And how could I be cross about an early party? I'm sure it was hard enough on you, not knowing where I was and then having to restrain yourself from taking matters into your own hands against those men."
Harry smiled, the tension fading from his expression. "Thanks, Hermione. Yeah, I think all of us felt the same way." He nodded towards Draco and Ron.
"Now, I really would like to go home and get some decent sleep in my own bed, if I'm not needed for anything further?" She looked at Robards for confirmation.
"No, that will be all for tonight, Miss Granger," Robards said. "Thank you for your cooperation. I'll let you know if we need to speak with you further."
She nodded. "All right. And don't forget to send that approval through."
Draco couldn't help feeling uneasy. What approval? But he supposed he'd just have to trust her, and hope she told him about whatever it was she was planning.
They got ready to leave. Draco didn't want to go home, not so soon after Hermione had been safely returned to them. He wondered if he could get away with arriving at Grimmauld earlier than the others.
At the door, Harry stopped him. Hermione was already halfway down the corridor, headed for the lifts. "Do you want to stay at Grimmauld tonight?" he asked.
Draco was so taken aback by the invitation that at first he wasn't sure what to say. Of course he wanted to, but…
"I wouldn't want to impose," he said hesitantly, at last.
"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said. "The house is huge. It's not like we don't have the room. And I'm sure you'll want to be close to Hermione, after everything that's happened." He gave Draco a look that said he knew exactly how he felt about her. It wasn't a hostile expression, which Draco was grateful for.
In that case… "I'd be very happy to join you," Draco said. "Thanks, Harry."
"Great. Come on then." He started to follow Hermione, then stopped and leaned towards Draco. "What do you suppose this errand of hers is?" he said quietly.
Draco shrugged. "I have no idea. Knowing her, it could be anything. All I know is, she's supposed to be taking it easy, not running bloody errands."
"I should have known she'd manage to squeeze something in," Harry snorted.
Hermione popped her head around the end of the corridor. "Are you two coming, or are you going to stand there whispering secrets to each other all night?"
"Let's go before she comes back and wants to know what we're talking about," Harry said.
"Lead the way," Draco said. He could deal with spiriting Hermione away later than planned, so long as he could be near her tonight.
Draco sat on a sofa in Grimmauld place, surrounded by people. It was a good thing the place was so large, otherwise there would barely be room for anyone to move.
At eight am on the dot, the DA and Slytherins had arrived en masse, ready to celebrate Hermione's safe return, as well as the kidnappers being in custody. Everyone was in good spirits — helped, of course, by the spirits Theo and the twins had brought along to share.
"Oi, Harry!" Seamus called from across the room. "Where's the guest of honour? Do we need to rescue her from your Auror mates?"
Harry huffed a laugh and shook his head. "No, they let her go not long after you left. She said she had to run an errand, but she should be back soon."
"Who runs errands before eight am?" Seamus said, the irony of his questioning Hermione's early departure clearly lost on him.
Hermione had been up and gone by the time Harry and Draco got up. Draco had hoped he would have a chance to have a quiet moment with her in the morning, given everyone had gone straight to bed after arriving back from the Ministry, but it was not to be.
Staying at the ancestral home of the Blacks had been strange. His mother never talked about her relatives, and he'd never seen the property before last night, although he knew it existed. Draco had lain awake for a long time, ruminating on what little he knew about his cousins and great aunt and uncle. It seemed as though their long departed spirits still haunted the rooms and corridors — although perhaps that was just the influence of Walburga's portrait in the entranceway. She certainly gave a unique form of welcome to anyone who came through the front door.
He'd never before considered himself a Black — always a Malfoy — but being here in Grimmauld Place made him want to know more about that side of his lineage. Tainted as it was by its reputation for endorsing blood purity, people like Sirius and his Aunt Andromeda served to remind him that one could be more than the sum of their family name. He wanted to be more than the sum of his family name.
He jumped as someone sat down, jostling him, and snapped his head to the side. Theo was looking at him with mild concern. "You all right? You looked like you were contemplating some pretty serious stuff."
Draco felt heat creep up his neck. He hadn't realised his brooding had been so obvious, and gave Theo a rueful grin.
"I was. Having a small existential crisis, in fact."
Theo raised an eyebrow. "Draco, when in your life have you not faced an existential crisis of some sort?"
He thought about it for a moment. "I suppose you're right. But it seems I've become less adept at hiding it, these days."
"Haven't we all?"
Draco had to agree. Still… "Perhaps, but this isn't really the time or place to get into such deep philosophical discussions. Let's save those for another day. Distract me, Theo. Tell me another of your stories."
"Worried about Hermione?" Theo guessed.
Draco started to deny it, but what came out of his mouth instead was, "I don't understand it. She's just been rescued from a hostage situation, and she's already out there, skylarking about doing Merlin knows what — probably trying to help someone or some other selfless act. After all she's been through, she's still putting her own wellbeing aside."
A hand clapped his shoulder. He turned to see Ron leaning over the back of the sofa, wearing a lopsided grin similar to the one Fred and George often wore. "Mate, if you're going to be a part of Hermione's life, you're going to have to get used to that real quick. She's always been that way, and I don't think she's going to stop any time soon."
"Ron's right." Harry flopped down on the other side of Draco. "In fact, if she ever does stop, be worried. Be very worried."
"Theo, bugger off for a minute," Ron said. "Harry and I want to talk to Draco."
Draco thought Theo might make a smart remark in response to the dismissal, but instead his expression was knowing. His lips turned up in an amused smirk. "Don't be too hard on him, lads," he said, before getting up and wandering over to the other side of the room.
Ron sat in the spot Theo had vacated, so that he and Harry bookended Draco. He immediately felt boxed in, very aware of the fact he was wedged between two men he had hated throughout his time at Hogwarts — men who had hated him just as much.
"It's about time we gave you the talk," Ron began.
For a fleeting moment, Draco wondered if they were about to educate him on the basics of sex and reproduction. Just as quickly, he dismissed it. Of course that wouldn't be the type of talk they had in mind. He felt the urge to start talking, to try and make his intentions clear, but thought it best to stay silent and let them have their say.
"As you know, Hermione is our best friend," Harry said. "She's like a sister to us, and we love her dearly."
"She deserves to be happy," Ron added. "I couldn't make her happy, not in that way. And to be honest, part of the reason we got together in the first place — you know, after the war — was because everyone had been expecting us to end up as a couple. We figured out pretty quickly we wouldn't work romantically, and it was a relief to go back to being friends."
"But she hasn't dated since Ron," Harry continued. "For a number of reasons, I suppose. It's not like she hasn't had offers—" The mention of other offers made Draco's insides twist with jealousy, but he just nodded. "—She acts like she's too busy, but I think she's been a bit lonely sometimes."
"We know you two have feelings for each other," Ron said. "A year ago, Harry and I'd probably have tried to warn you off. We wouldn't have trusted you to take care of her properly and treat her how she deserves to be treated. But getting to know you, and given everything you've done these last few months, we've decided you're not such a bad bloke after all. We wanted to both give you our blessing."
"Just be warned, Draco," Harry said. He threw a companionable arm over Draco's shoulders and leaned in to speak conspiratorially into his ear. "If you do ever hurt her, remember Ron and I are Aurors. We know lots of interesting spells, and we also know how to make someone disappear without ever being found."
Draco swallowed nervously and nodded. "Right. I understand completely. And you don't have to worry — I would never do anything to hurt her. She's… she's changed my life. That may sound like an exaggeration, but it's not."
"We know," Ron said. "Which brings us to our next point. If you're going to be with Hermione, you're going to be spending a lot more time around Gryffindors. Also, a few 'Puffs and Ravenclaws. D'you think you can handle that?"
"I'm sure I'll find a way," Draco grinned.
"Filthy mudbloods and blood traitors, defiling the house of Black! Begone, you—!"
The room fell deathly silent as Walburga Black's portrait started up again, only to be silenced almost as quickly as she began.
"That'll be Hermione back," Harry guessed.
"So no one has ever been able to get rid of Walburga's portrait or find a way to permanently silence her?" Draco asked.
"Nope," Harry said. "Whatever magic she used, it's proved to be completely resistant to any spell."
A cheer went up as Hermione entered the room. She lifted her hands in a warding-off gesture and tried to affect a stern expression. "Don't all mob me at once, please." She pointed along the wall. "Form an orderly line over here. You may hug me one at a time. No pushing."
Her bossy tone made everyone laugh. Absolutely no one followed her instructions, and she was instead enveloped by her friends, who were all talking and asking questions at once.
"I wouldn't keep that up too long if I were you lot," Ron called from his place on the sofa. "She'll set Draco's elves on you."
"She will," Draco added cheerfully. "My elves seem to be quite fond of her, and they'll do whatever she asks."
Everyone stepped back, eyeing Hermione warily.
"But hang on," Seamus piped up. "Aren't you against the use of house elves, Hermione?"
He turned to eye Draco and Ron suspiciously. "I reckon you're bluffing."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I've learned a few things about house elves over the years, Seamus. And Draco treats his elves very well. Trust me, he and Ron aren't bluffing. They know from personal experience."
Seamus looked horrified. "Good Godric, woman. I feel like I don't know you at all. What did those kidnapping bastards do to you?"
"Very little. But I'd rather not go into my experience right now, if you don't mind. I will take a drink, though. And some food, I haven't eaten yet this morning."
Beside Draco, Harry swore quietly.
"Tell me you didn't forget to organise to feed everyone," Draco said. "They'll all be comatose before lunchtime otherwise, at the rate some of them are going."
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. She had come close enough to overhear Draco, and had her hands on her hips.
"I didn't forget," Harry insisted, his voice higher pitched than normal. "I… just hadn't got around to it yet. Kreacher!"
After a slight delay, a wizened old elf appeared, a deep scowl on his face. He glared balefully at Harry and gave a short bow. "What does master require?"
"Food, please. Enough to feed everyone."
Kreacher's expression became even more displeased as he surveyed the number of guests. "It is not possible, master. Too many people, Kreacher is just one elf, yes he is. It will take some time to prepare it."
The first thing that struck Draco was Kreacher's surly demeanour. Never before had he seen or heard of a house elf being so obviously grumpy, or questioning an instruction they had been given. He glanced at Harry to see how he would react.
"You're right, Kreacher. I'm sorry for the short notice. Just do your best, please."
Kreacher nodded and started to turn away, but Harry called him back. "Please don't poison any of the guests. I'm sure you probably don't approve of half of them, but I rather like them all."
To Draco's amusement, Kreacher actually looked mildly disappointed. "Yes, master," he muttered.
It occurred to Draco then that he could be of some help — or rather, his elves could. "Kreacher," he said. "Would you like some help preparing the food?"
Kreacher took a good look at Draco, and seemed to recognise him for the first time. His eyes widened and he gave a small bow. "You are the only child of my departed mistress' niece, Narcissa Black. Kreacher is very sorry to not have acknowledged Draco Malfoy earlier."
"It's fine, Kreacher," Draco replied. "But you do have a big job ahead of you. Let me call my own elves to help."
Kreacher's eyes filled with tears and he threw himself at Draco's feet. "Draco Malfoy shows such kindness to Kreacher!" he wailed.
Draco looked at Harry, feeling slightly desperate. Kreacher was creating a scene, and he didn't know what to do. Comforting the elf might make him carry on even more, and it wasn't his place to give orders.
"That's enough Kreacher," Harry said sternly. "Thank Draco for his offer, then go back to the kitchens and start planning."
"Yes, master." Kreacher bowed to Harry, looking less resentful this time, then turned to Draco and bowed so deeply his nose hit the carpet. "Thank you, Draco Malfoy. Kreacher is eternally grateful for your generous offer."
After Kreacher left, Draco called his elves and gave them their instructions. They hurried off to the kitchens, eager to help.
"Sorry about that," Harry said. "Kreacher is… different."
"So I noticed," Draco said. "He's very odd."
"Kreacher is a product of his environment," Hermione interjected. She smiled at Draco and conjured a stool, then sat. "He lived here alone for a long time after Walburga passed. It was just the two of them in the house, and he worshipped her. It also meant he adopted her extreme views of blood status. By the time Sirius was able to take ownership of the property again, Kreacher had gone half mad with loneliness. The fact he also slept next to a Horcrux for over a decade probably didn't help matters."
Draco blinked in shock and gave an involuntary shiver. "Kreacher slept next to a broken piece of Voldemort's soul? Sweet Salazar, no wonder he's like he is. I'm amazed it didn't kill him. Didn't you three carry one around for months?"
"We did," Hermione replied. "The locket, the same object Kreacher was protecting. It nearly tore us apart before we were able to find a way to destroy it. I suspect the reason he was able to withstand it was due to the nature of elf magic. Their powers and abilities are much more complex than most of the wizarding world gives them credit for."
"Yes, I can certainly believe that," Draco said. "I find I have a whole new level of respect and appreciation for them, of late."
"Don't tell her that, mate," Ron piped up, elbowing Draco in the ribs. "If you don't watch out, she'll have you as her next spokesman for elf rights advocacy." He grinned cheekily at Hermione, and she rolled her eyes.
"I would be happy to be your spokesman for elf rights advocacy," Draco said to her. The declaration earned him a look of betrayal from Ron, and a smug smirk from Hermione.
At that moment, they were interrupted by what appeared to be every witch currently in attendance. "Hermione, you're to come with us," Millie ordered. "Right now."
Before Hermione could protest, she was lifted to her feet and escorted away.
Draco, Ron and Harry sat there dumbly. The rest of the men were all looking on in amusement. "Um… what just happened?" Draco asked at last.
Neville wandered over, grinning. "The ladies have been whispering among themselves ever since what Ron said about Hermione setting your elves on everyone. I suppose they plan to interrogate her about what exactly is going on between the two of you."
"Is it that obvious?" Draco asked.
"Yes," everyone chorused.
"Get on with it, already," Dean added. "If Hermione being kidnapped has taught you anything, it should be that there's no point in wasting time. Don't let the moment go by, because you never know when things could change."
"That's both insightful and depressing," Neville said. "But Dean's right. So what are you going to do about it?"
"He's taking her on a getaway," Ron said before Draco could answer. "To make sure she takes some time to recover instead of trying to work."
The men all grinned. Seamus came up and clapped Draco on the knee, while Blaise affected an exaggerated sigh. "And here I was, hoping I'd be able to steal her away from you," he said.
"No chance, Zabini," Draco growled.
The thought of another wizard pursuing Hermione, of winning her favour, made him want to hex someone. No, he definitely was not going to let his chance go by. He needed to put his cards on the table. Knowing she clearly had feelings for him as well made the decision much easier.
And yet… Draco thought of the box of memories Fred and George had in their possession. He knew that he needed to show them to Hermione as soon as possible — but when? He didn't want to influence whatever decision she might make, but he also didn't think it fair to withhold the information any longer than necessary. What if she was also experiencing confused half-recollections or wondered where the feelings had come from? The memories would explain a great deal.
He needed to talk to Fred and George, ask what they thought was the best option. He would — but first, he needed to make arrangements for their getaway. He knew just where to take her.