Grim Reality, Truth and Perception
Chapter 8
It was getting a bit chilly in Nomad Island, this time of year. But it wasn't as cold as it used to be at Hogwarts, somewhere in Scotland. She could really get used to this type of weather. It wasn't too hot either, like Eldorado had been.
All Hermione needed to stay warm was her cloak. Under it she wore a chemise and bodice, like the local women did. She was strolling through Ruby Avenue, which was the major street through the Northern Quadrant of the fourth tier of the city, and linked Emerald Ave in the Eastern Quadrant with Topaz Ave in the Western Quadrant. Most of the popular retail shops were located on the fourth tier, and relative few people lived there.
"Shopping for my Christmas present?" a familiar voice asked.
Hermione recognised the voice behind her immediately. "Padma! It's been ages!" she beamed.
"Three whole weeks!" Padma nodded. "And there I thought we were becoming friends."
"Sorry. They've been working me really hard at the Citadel. Remember they gave me a choice what kind of job I could do? Well, I couldn't really choose, so I decided to do both."
"Typical!" Padma said teasingly. "So, do you read my column?"
Hermione nodded. "From time to time. I never thought you'd become a high-society columnist."
The other woman shrugged apologetically. "This city has an appallingly low crime rate. Well, there is the unofficial Thieves' Fellowship but they are way too secretive and there was no way to uncover that organisation. Besides that, there just isn't any action, and since our previous society columnist retired, I took the job. I like it. It's a good chance to meet a lot of interesting people."
"Ah, you must be referring to the unmarried males among the local nobility," Hermione teased in turn.
Padma grimaced. "Ugh! Those creeps? Nah! This may sound lame, but they're a bunch of pampered dilettantes. I want a real man! Like…Ranger Bill Quist…he's pretty hot, or Ranger Max Wolfe. I think I just like men in uniform," she said dreamily and giggled, once again reminding Hermione how very much alike Parvati and Padma were, despite Padma's constant claims that she was nothing like her airhead twin sister. "How is Wolfe, by the way?"
"Don't have a clue, and I don't really care," Hermione said icily. "I haven't seen him in a month. He's out on a tour of duty with Kozminski, Mordecai, Wortelgraaf and Izzet. I really don't understand what's so great about him. His attitude is awful. He never had anything nice to say to me back in September before he went out again. Almost like he doesn't think I'm good enough to work with him."
"Is he a male chauvinistic pig?" Padma asked eagerly, drawing out her notebook.
"Put that thing away, Padma," Hermione said warningly. "No, I don't think he's an MCP. He's just so arrogant and impossible. He needs to get his head checked. I really don't think he's all there," she said, tapping her forehead.
Padma laughed. "I see. Hey, do want to go grab a bite to eat?" She checked her watch. "I have about an hour and a half before I have to go back to work. The Metallurgists' Fellowship is presenting a revolutionary new type of transmutation magic. I have to cover that."
"Sure. Shall we go to one of the fancy places you frequent, or shall I take you down to The Barrel. I'm supposed to meet the girls there anyway."
"Oh, well, won't I be intruding?"
"Not at all!" Hermione reassured her. "Some of them are bringing some non-Ranger friends. Come on…let me show you off."
"All right." Padma said cheerfully and they started walking. "Will Lilia be there?"
Hermione shook her head. "She's out on a mission too. Not with Wolfe and his merry band of reprobates, thank goodness."
Padma laughed. "Really, what do you have against him?"
So Hermione told her about a training mission she'd gone on a month ago. When she'd asked him if he had any tips for her, he'd said to stay out of his way so he wouldn't hex her. " Can you believe him?" she huffed. "And instead of sticking up for me, the others just laughed."
"I think he's giving you a hard time because you're new."
"I hope that's all there is to it." Hermione sighed.
They took the scenic route through the city instead of taking a portal, and they talked about work, men, and shopping and Hermione was quite enjoying the brief change of pace Padma offered in her life. It was good to talk to a non-Ranger from time to time.
The finally reached Parcelsus Alley, where The Barrel was located and Hermione went in before Padma. She greeted Borin, a dwarf bartender, and Holly, the elf waitress and introduced them to Padma. Then they walked over to the long table the Rangers usually sat at. Ten chattering ladies occupied it.
"Hello Hermione!" an older woman greeted them. "Oh, you're Padma Patil! I am a big fan of yours! I liked your coverage of the new winter fashion show last week. I'm Serafina Esposito. Ranger Fourth class."
"Serafina used to be a medic. She came out of retirement to help out. Thanks to her, Lieutenant Montoya has been freed up to go on missions," Hermione clarified.
"How do you do." Padma nodded as she shook hands.
"Ladies, this is a friend of mine from Hogwarts, Padma Patil. Padma, meet Noelani Winters, Emily Yang, Claire Cruz, Clara Da Silva, Galatea Angelou, Helga Olsen, Emra Izzet, Elena Ironheart and Esther Mordecai." While Padma shook everybody's hand, Hermione elaborated. "Emra and Esther are Ranger wives and Elena is Commander Ironheart's youngest daughter. Serafina and Galatea are medics and Noelani, Emily and Clara are analysts with our Intel division. Helga," Hermione pointed to a seven feet and six inches tall quarter giant woman. "…is an Artificer, so she's responsible for the magical vehicles we use, among other things…and last but not least, Claire is our Politician. She's one of our spokespeople…our face to the outside world, our liaison with the Ministries of Magic…"
"That's enough, Hermione," the woman in question interrupted, smiling. "Have a seat."
Hermione and Padma sat down, and for the next hour they had a ball, talking and gossiping about the goings on in the city.
Padma was bombarded with questions about upcoming fashion shows, since it had become common knowledge among the city's females that Padma Patil had access to such information way before the average Concordian female.
While Padma was being kept busy, Hermione joined a conversation between Galatea, Emra Izzet and Esther Mordecai, who was giving Emra some tips on motherhood.
Hermione hadn't known that she was expecting, and she wasn't showing any signs of pregnancy yet. "When will the baby be along?" she asked.
"In August," the Turkish witch replied. "I only found out I was pregnant yesterday. Okan doesn't know yet. No use in writing a letter, since he'll be back later today!" she said excitedly. "I can't wait to see the look on his face!"
Hermione smiled. Emra was her age, and fifteen years younger than her husband, and everybody knew of his desire to have children. So despite the fact that he'd laughed at Wolfe's remark about not getting in the way, she was very happy for him.
"Commander Ironheart, sir?" Hermione heard Holly's high-pitched voice squeal. "So nice to see you."
She turned her head and saw the Commander give the elf a small nod, and his gaze swept over the room and came to rest on their table. Hermione's gut went cold as she saw the look in his eyes.
The Commander seemed to be carrying a huge weight as he dragged his feet over the floor and towards their table.
"Papa? What's the matter?" Elena asked.
Esther Mordecai went deathly pale. No doubt she had witnessed a similar situation before. "Caleb?" she squeaked.
The Ranger slowly shook his head and looked at the woman sitting next to her. "I'm so sorry!"
Emra started sobbing wildly and shaking all over, and Serafina shot over to help her. "Galatea, help me, she's going into shock. She may lose the baby."
Galatea snapped out of her trance and hurried around the table, and Hermione jumped into action as well, whipping out a Port Key to the Citadel she carried just in case. She tapped her wand against it and said, "Citadel medical wing." The Port Key started glowing. Then she grabbed onto the ailing woman. "Transport!" The world blurred around her and seconds later she was in the Medical ward at the citadel. Two civilian nurses, who worked in their medical ward, looked up from a potions' cauldron in surprise.
"Help me!" Hermione barked, and one of the nurses summoned a stretcher on which they put the woman. She turned to the other nurse. "I want a dreamless-sleeping potion. This girl is pregnant, so dilute it a bit. And get Captain Sharif over here, on the double!"
The nurse nodded and hurried off to a communications mirror, a device used instead of fires, in the Citadel, and much of Concordia.
Hermione took a vial brought by the other nurse, and administered its contents intravenously. Emra relaxed visibly, and her breathing became even. They levitated the stretcher to a room, and they transferred the woman onto the bed. Then Captain Sharif's telltale clonking footstep sounded in the corridor outside the room, and the ageing doctor walked in.
"I take it she heard about her husband?" he groaned, as he saw whom the emergency was about.
"Yes, Captain. She went into shock, but she's pregnant, so I thought it was best to get her here as soon as possible. Luckily I had my emergency Port Key with me."
"Good thing you did!" the old man said, as he donned a set of magical goggles that allowed him to examine internal injuries. "It seems that the foetus is unharmed," he continued, as he took off his goggles. "The question is…how will she cope when she comes to? When can't keep her asleep indefinitely!"
"Galatea can counsel her," Hermione offered.
"I don't think so," Sharif said wearily. "Not after she receives the news…" The old man sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "Ranger Mordecai didn't go into details, but it seems that Ranger Izzet's death affected Ranger Wolfe quite badly. He's catatonic. Pawel tried to get him out of it, but nothing seems to help."
"Ranger Kozminski is very capable, I'm sure he can help Wolfe."
The Egyptian Captain shook his shiny bald head. "I don't think so, it sounded very serious."
At that moment, Galatea and Serafina rushed into the room. "Is she…?"
"She is okay, and her child is fine," Sharif said. He looked at Serafina. "Please stay here and monitor her."
Serafina nodded.
Then Sharif looked at Hermione and Galatea. "Accompany me to my office. There is something I must tell you both."
Sharif's office wasn't far, and it was the largest office in the medical wing. He opened the door and held it open for the ladies to precede him in. He followed them in and gestured for them to take one of three plush armchairs in front of his large desk, and sat down in his high backed chair. He looked at Galatea. "Wolfe took Okan's death very hard. His mind couldn't handle it, and Pawel says Wolfe's condition is like nothing he's ever seen before. From what he told me, I'm not sure there is anything we can do for him. It seems he has erected his own magical cocoon around his mind, they way Cruciatus Curse victims sometimes do."
"But he wasn't tortured!" Hermione said, for Galatea's benefit.
Sharif shook his head. "No. Like I said, it all sounded very strange. I can always rely on Aurelia for help. She's the best in the field of emotional trauma."
Aurelia was the Chief Mediwitch at the Concordian House of Healing, and there were few mediwizards out there who were more skilled than she was, Hermione knew. "Captain, I'd like to help," she offered. She felt awful for jumping to all those conclusions about Wolfe. She looked at Galatea, and then back at the Captain. "I was wondering if you could arrange for me to be transferred permanently to the Medical division. I'm needed here, and since I'm already a licensed mediwitch, I don't need to be trained in that aspect. "I'll have more time on my hands to deal with this problem."
"Are you going to find a cure?" Sharif asked.
"I'm going to try my best, Captain."
Sharif gave her a small smile. "Irina won't like this. She thought you showed great promise…but I think something can be arranged."
"I'll help you!" Galatea said quietly.
Sharif nodded. "If anyone can get Wolfe out of his mental state, it is you."
Galatea smiled sadly. "I don't see how. He kept me at arm's length too, same as everyone else. In fact, he's become a bit nastier recently."
A thought struck Hermione like lightning. "Actually, maybe he just did that because you were starting to grow on him."
"Excellent insight, Ranger Granger."
Hermione blushed. "I'm not a Ranger yet, officially, and Ranger Granger sounds silly."
"You really think he…likes me?" Galatea asked, blinking her tearful eyes.
"Well, I can't be sure," Hermione began uncertainly. "But you're a beautiful woman, and you've been very nice to him for…how long?"
"Two years."
"Two years. He's only human, you know! He is bound to like you, a little!" Hermione smiled reassuringly.
"I concur," Sharif said. "You should try to get through to Wolfe. Serafina is a more than capable of taking care of Okan's wife…widow." The Egyptian shook his bald head in sorrow.
Hermione looked thoughtful. "I'll need to know everything about his life, though, if I'm to understand what could have caused this. It is possible that this is purely psychological.
"That might actually be the case." Sharif said, a look of sudden comprehension appearing in his eyes. "You see, I had Wolfe watched…by his peers…yes! It started after Potter died. I think Wolfe felt indebted to him for saving his life, and tried to fill his shoes, putting tremendous pressure on himself. He's very powerful, nearly as powerful as Potter was. Caleb told me he did some crazy and brilliant things and ended up saving Ranger Wortelgraaf's life, who otherwise would probably be dead too. But he lost it when he realised that Okan was dead. Caleb told me that he tried to shake Okan's body awake, as if he were merely asleep. When Okan didn't respond, he just slipped away. It still doesn't explain the magical barrier in his mind, but maybe it portrays the root of the problem. I'll see what I can do with regards to his history. He doesn't have many living relatives, and he never let any other Rangers get too close."
"I'm sure I can help you there," a grave voice sighed tiredly.
Sharif started getting up to salute, but the person waved him off, and beckoned the women to stay seated as well.
Commander Ironheart looked at Galatea and Hermione. "Please, come up to my office in an hour. I know more about the kid than any other person in Concordia."
"Yes Commander." The two young women nodded.
"How is Mrs Izzet?" he asked Sharif wearily.
"Asleep, for now. Serafina is looking after her," the Egyptian answered.
Ironheart exhaled in relief. "I heard she was pregnant."
"You heard correctly, Commander." Sharif nodded sadly.
Ironheart shook his head and retreated out from the office.
An hour later, Galatea and Hermione stood outside the office in the tallest tower of the Citadel. Galatea knocked on the door, and it swished open, allowing the two women in.
Ironheart sat behind his desk, out of uniform, wearing a billowy sleeved green renaissance shirt with a wide v neckline that was neatly laced up. Over it he wore a leather vest, and as he stood up in a gentlemanly fashion as the ladies entered the room, Hermione saw he wore black cotton slacks. The Commander looked good even out of uniform.
The women were offered some refreshments as they sat down, but they both declined. "Mind if I pour myself one then? I really need it."
"Not al all!" Hermione answered, as she looked around and observed the many fascinating trinkets in Ironheart's collection.
Ironheart pulled open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a can of Coca-Cola and a bottle of Bacardi.
Hermione pursed her mouth and frowned. As far as she knew, Muggle products were banned from the Concordian market and weren't even allowed into the city. She asked cautiously, "Sir…isn't that…forbidden?"
Ironheart chuckled. "Officially, it is! But the Lord Mayor also loves the Cuba Libre. Why…you're going to turn me in?"
"Of course not." Hermione blushed.
Ironheart laughed and winked, causing both women to blush profusely, and Hermione could see how many witches came to be smitten with him. The man just oozed a certain magnetic sort of charm, augmenting his considerably handsome looks. The he took a sip from his drink, and savoured it, before swallowing it down. He sighed. "You both are wondering how it is I know so much about Maximilian, eh?"
The women nodded.
"Well, I'll cut right to the chase." Avery Wolfe, Max' father, was my son. Max is my grandson."
Hermione forgot to breathe, and she saw that Galatea's big blue eyes had widened as well. Then she realised there were many similarities between the two men. Wolfe had a darker complexion, eyes and a wavier hair type, but they had the same height, build and jaw-line. They also resembled each other at the eyes and nose, and Hermione kicked herself mentally for not noticing, even though she never had any reason to look for these similarities.
Ironheart's penetrating gaze made it seem as if he were trying to read her thoughts. "He does look like me, doesn't he?"
Hermione squirmed in her chair. "In retrospect, I noticed some similarities, sir." She was now convinced that Ironheart was one of those wizards that could read the surface thoughts of other people.
He nodded and smiled. "Yes, I am a mind-reader. In my youth, I used this ability to great effect when trying to pick up girls. It got me in a lot of trouble too. A Creole Cajun witch by the name of Tempeste Louvel was one of those troubles. I was about to marry my wife when I found that she was pregnant with Avery. A good friend of mine, Scott Wolfe, did the decent thing in my stead, and married her and cared for her and her son, raising the boy as his own. Avery looked like his mother, so no one was the wiser.
"Max didn't have a normal childhood," Ironheart continued. "He was raised to become a weapon, not a person. He was raised to reject all emotion. Why? Because it would interfere with his development.
"Max' great-grandfather discovered that the Chi-gong technique the oriental Muggles use to strengthen their energy, could be used to stir the magic within, and facilitate the use of wand-less magic. It is like transferring potion from one cauldron into a smaller one, so the potion reaches the brim of the cauldron, and a dipper to scoop out the potion isn't needed. The wand, normally functions like a dipper…" the old Ranger said, explaining his metaphor.
"But the cauldron can boil over that much more easily," Hermione interrupted, getting the picture. She knew that spontaneous magic happened when a wizard was angry, upset or happy! "That's why he was taught to reject emotions…that's why he's such a prat I mean err…" She sneaked a glance at Galatea, but the white-haired beauty was cradling her face in her hands, shaking slightly. "Sorry, that came out wrong…but I see what you're saying, Commander."
"You understand, then." Ironheart nodded.
"I think I do."
"Good." The old Ranger nodded. "And I trust you'll do everything in your ability to save Max?" he asked, looking at Hermione and the tearful Galatea in turn.
"I'll still need to know more, but I think I can give you a theory on what happened, Commander."
"Please enlighten me." Ironheart nodded and looked intently at Hermione, making her very nervous.
"Well, I imagine his upbringing must have been very err, disciplined?"
"Brutal is a better word," Ironheart said quietly. "He was taught that play was a waste of time. His Kung-fu training started at age four, and his magical training started when he was six. Lei forbade him to even see other children, anticipating that Max would become aware of the unfairness of the whole situation and rebel. It's a good thing that he spent a couple of months at his grandmother's every year. It did him a lot of good!" Ironheart shook his head. "I should have stepped in, taken him away from Lei, but I couldn't, out of respect for him. He saved my life when we went after Skaras to imprison him, and I owed him for that. Besides, I don't know if my wife would have taken it very well. She's very much the jealous type."
Galatea, who had been listening quietly the whole time, suddenly spoke up. "He told me about his childhood. He loved his grandmother, but when he talked about his great-grandfather, I only sensed fear and respect. I think he believed that his grandfather did it all for the greater good."
Ironheart nodded. "His sense of duty is great."
"Just as I thought," Hermione said. "I think his basic human nature collided with his great grandfather's doctrine. That, coupled with the negative emotions he must have been experiencing, rendered him catatonic. I still can't explain the magical barrier, but I think that has something to do with his wand-less magic training. Basically, I think he lost control of his magic."
"It makes sense." Ironheart frowned thoughtfully. "I'll tell Aurelia about your theory. I think she will be contacting you very soon."
Aurelia indeed contacted Hermione after she'd heard Hermione's theory, and she agreed with it completely. Now, nine days later, it was Christmas Eve, and a bleary-eyed Hermione was reading about a few ancient restorative draughts, and several others were bubbling in their cauldrons. They had already tried two potions, but neither had worked.
Pawel Kozminski, a Polish Ranger Fourth Class medic, brought her a cup of hot chocolate. "You've done all you could for today, Hermione."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm overlooking something…I have to be overlooking something."
He gently took the parchments away from her and rolled them up. "You've been awake for sixty hours. Your mind is not getting any sharper because of it. Please, go rest a little. Where are your notes? I will pick up where you left off."
Hermione grabbed her mug of chocolate and slid off the stool she'd been sitting on. She pointed to a stack of parchments on which she'd scribbled down notes. "There they are." She rubbed her eyes. "Aren't you going up for the Christmas dinner?"
"I'm not really in the mood."
Hermione yawned and nodded. "Neither am I. Happy Christmas Pawel."
"You too, Hermione."
As Hermione made her way out of the Medical wing, she paused at the door of the room in which Wolfe lay, now having slipped into a coma, and she heard Galatea singing to him softly. She remembered how Ginny had guarded and comforted Harry at night in their sixth year, when Voldemort attacked him through his dreams. Such devotion!
She tore herself away from the door and continued to her room, mutely nodding to several Rangers who wished her a merry Christmas.
She reached her corridor, and was mildly shocked by Helga shoving her tongue down Nathan Kelly's throat, while she held up a sprig of mistletoe over their heads.
She smiled. Nathan was very tall, but Helga was the one who had to bend down, still being ten inches taller. They made a very cute couple in a bizarre sort of way, and Hermione found herself wondering how to explain the existence of Half Giants. Helga already had to bend down to kiss Nathan and she was only a quarter giant…how would a twenty-foot being, interact with a human? The sheer mechanics of it were mind-boggling.
There was also a peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched them kiss. She couldn't quite place it…it wasn't jealousy, for she had no romantic yearnings for Nathaniel Kelly. No…it was something different. Envy, that was it!
She cleared her throat loudly, and she heard their lips smacking softly as they quickly pulled away. "Happy Christmas. How long has this been going on?" she asked. She actually already knew, since Helga had told her all about it, but she had to act naturally, and the natural thing to do was to ask.
"What are you talking about?" Nathan replied trying to keep his tone steady.
"Come on, that wasn't a mistletoe kiss." Hermione grinned. "Relax, I won't tell anyone."
Nathan looked visibly relieved, but Helga was quite upset by his relief at Hermione's remark. "Are you ashamed of me? she whimpered. "It's because I'm part giant, isn't it!" she said, with tears streaming down her large pink cheeks. She ran to her room at the end of the corridor and slammed the door shut behind her.
Hermione fixed Nathan with a withering glare. "You snog her, but you're ashamed of her? Nathan, how could you!"
He looked at the floor in shame. "I…didn't mean to. It…it's just that my family…they won't understand."
"Do you love her?"
"I…I've liked her ever since I first saw her, when I first arrived. I…I've hurt her feelings, what am I going to do? I think I really love her."
"If you do, scream it from the rooftops," Hermione said. "Go public. That should allay any fears she has."
Nathan's eyes gleamed. "Brilliant! Thanks, Hermione, Merry Christmas!" he said, as he stormed off.
Shaking her head, Hermione entered her room and closed the door behind her and was promptly greeted by Crookshanks, who jumped into her arms, purring contentedly. "Hey Crookshanks, my gorgeous baby!" she said in falsetto tones. "Have you been a good boy? Yes you have…yes you have!" She stroked him and he moved his head to meet her strokes. She sighed pathetically. At least she had Crookshanks' unconditional love.
***
It was good to see the old castle again! In mere days, it would empty itself as the vast majority of the students went home for the Christmas holidays.
Before heading up the castle, Draco went to the Whomping Willow, which wasn't far from where the monument honouring Potter stood. He bowed his head, in a show of respect. After all, he needed to do everything in his power to convince them that he was indeed a reformed person.
He stayed there for a few minutes before finally walking to the castle. He passed several students who were playing in the snow and received looks of pure loathing from a handful of seventh year Gryffindors.
It was lunchtime, so he headed straight towards the Great Hall where he would no doubt find McGonagall, or someone who could point him in the right direction. His mind was working overtime to think of a way to maximise his advantage.
Many students turned to look at him as he entered the room. He had even adopted a different, more reserved walk, instead of his usual swagger. Severus Snape observed him with narrowed eyes, and McGonagall rose from her seat and walked around the teacher's table to meet him.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr Malfoy," she said coolly.
"I can't honestly say it is good to be back," he said sadly, and loudly enough so most of the teachers could hear him. "It reminds me of who I was." He paused and forced himself not to smile too brightly at his own deviousness, making it look as if he were forcing a smile onto his face. "Hopefully, my being here will earn me part of the redemption I seek. Could you please summon Dobby and Winky for me, Professor?"
McGonagall sent Filch to fetch Dobby in the kitchens, and Ginny Weasley went for Winky in the hospital wing. Minutes later, both elves appeared in the great hall, Dobby fearfully eyeing his former master.
Draco opened his briefcase and took out a piece of parchment, and went down on one knee to offer it to Dobby and Winky. "I got your request in September, and I decided to personally see it done, since it could have taken over a year for things to get done if I'd let things run their bureaucratic course. I know this doesn't begin to make up for all the terrible things we put you through, but…" He injected emotion into his voice and made it waver a bit.
He shook his head. "Well, I can hardly expect you to forgive me. I'd better go now." He closed his briefcase and got up again. To his satisfaction, he noticed everyone was looking at him thunderstruck. He had at least a hundred witnesses who saw his noble action…including Ginny Weasley.
Snape was looking unconvinced, and Lupin was staring with disbelief etched on his features. No doubt they had a Sneakoscope hidden somewhere, and were surprised by its inactivity. Or maybe they were just going to be very hard to convince. Either way, they weren't a threat to Draco.
As he turned around to walk away, he heard Dobby's voice. "Thank you, Master Draco."
He stopped and slowly turned around, adorning his face with the most rueful smile he could muster. "Just doing the right thing, Dobby. I hope you and Winky will be very happy together. Let me know if there is ever anything else I can do for you." Then he locked his gaze with Ginny Weasley's for a split second. To his delight he saw her checks turning red before he averted his gaze again, and walked out of the Great Hall.
~
"Unbelievable," Lupin said incredulously.
"For once we agree on something, Remus," Snape sneered.
"I guess miracles do occur," Flitwick piped.
"It just proves that Albus was right." McGonagall pointed out. "Draco has reformed and rehabilitated himself completely once he was no longer under his father's influence. It really doesn't matter what you're born as."
"Are you sure that Sneakoscope of yours works, Severus?" Lupin asked.
"Unlike your junk, I assure you my artefacts are in peak condition, Remus," Snape said nastily.
Ginny only heard the comments dimly while she looked upon the two happiest house-elves in the world. Draco Malfoy had given them that happiness. Ginny wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own two eyes. Draco Malfoy was no longer evil! If he were, Professor Snape's Sneakoscope should have alerted them. It had been specifically tuned to Draco, so they could now be absolutely sure that he'd been completely truthful.
Maybe…maybe everybody was wrong about him, like everybody had been wrong about Harry. She excused herself and hurried out of the castle. Maybe she could just catch him.
She was shivering as she jogged through the snowy grounds of Hogwarts, belatedly realising that she wasn't wearing a cloak or anything similar to keep her warm. But she wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long, for in the distance she saw his light blond hair reflect a weak ray of sunlight. His gait was uncharacteristic for him, so hunched over and stooping.
"Malfoy…Draco, wait!" she called after him.
Her turned around, surprised. "Yes, how may I help you, Ms Weasley? Oh, you're not wearing a cloak?" He started removing his own cloak as he mumbled, "You ought to know better you know…school mediwitch and all."
Ginny shook her head. "I'll go back in a minute…no need."
But Draco wasn't listening as soon she had a warm cloak draped over her shoulders. Now it was Draco who started shivering. "Now…w-what can I d-do for you?"
"Oh, take back your cloak," she said, but as she said so she was reluctant to take it off. It smelled a lot like Harry's. "Tamara Turpin's Unicorn for wizards," she muttered
Draco nodded. "G-good nose you've got there," he said, taking out his wand and performing a complicated charm. Second later he was glowing with an eerie yet warm light. "Warming Charm," he explained. "I learned it in Durmstrang…remember, in the second half of my fifth year, the exchange programme? It was a necessity most of the time."
Ginny nodded. "Crabbe and Goyle were miserable without you," Ginny said absently, and quickly covered her mouth as she realised what she'd said, or rather, that she had spoken out loud.
Draco laughed a pleasant and melodious laugh rather than the taunting laugh he used to have. He really had changed a lot. "I know." He was shaking with mirth. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"
"Err, well what you did for Dobby and Winky was really nice. I just wanted to thank you."
"Don't mention it. I gave Dobby a lot of grief in during my childhood. I didn't know any better then, but still I should have realised how wrong it all was much sooner," he said sadly, and Ginny could have sworn that tears were forming in his grey eyes, which weren't quite as cold as they used to be. "It was the least I could do." He turned around to, leave again.
"Wait, your cloak," Ginny called after him.
"You can owl it back to me," Draco called back. "Never leave a lady in the cold…one of the few good things my father taught me."
She watched him exit the main gate before heading back up to the castle. She was going home for Christmas too. She would just drop by the Ministry and return his cloak to him, she decided, with a smile on her face.
~
Draco smiled broadly as he Apparated back to the Ministry of Magic. It had gone even better than anticipated. He guessed that he wore the same aftershave Potter used to wear He hadn't known that! He could still see the wistful look in her eyes as she breathed in the scent. Now she had linked his scent to Potter's…a powerful psychological stimulant, he knew.
His mind wandered back to the office. He would be getting a new partner today, who would help him with the sudden increase in house-elf issues.
He entered the lobby of the building his office shared with other Beast Division offices. He was greeted brightly by Slinky the house-elf. News travelled really fast! He smiled back and took the stairs up to his office. When he opened the door, he saw the last person he ever expected to see.
***
He was positively seething with anger. And it was all Harry's fault! Even in death, that son of a hag had managed to torture him! He'd read Padma Patil's coverage of Harry's memorial service. Everybody now remembered him as Harry the Hero. They'd chosen to forget that their hero put him through a world of pain!
He had been unable to put that whole event out of his mind; it had been so unfair. He hadn't been able to sleep, for he was plagued by nightmares of Harry…. He could almost hear Harry's laughter, mocking him!
A month ago, the sleepless nights had started to take their toll, and caused him to be distracted enough to let his mind wander when it should have been focused on a rather vicious Vipertooth. The injuries to his co-worker had thankfully not been fatal, but it still gnawed at him. Even in death, Harry managed to hurt an innocent.
And now, his own brother had taken him off the job in Peru, and transferred him to the dead end job in House-elf Relocation. The only job worse than that was the Centaur Liaison office. He couldn't believe that Charlie would do that to him. Harry had managed to turn his own blood relatives against him!
Disbelief coursed through his being. He was expected to work with Draco Malfoy. Ron shook his head, swearing he could hear Harry's voice laughing at his predicament. Then again, he heard that Draco Malfoy had undergone a few changes for the better. Maybe working with him wouldn't be so bad. And at least Malfoy had never tortured anybody.
The door creaked open and Malfoy walked in. "What are you doing here, Weasley?" he asked.
Ron was a bit surprised at the tone. It wasn't "Oh, I see." He twirled around, sweeping his arm around the office. "Welcome to the Office for House-elf Relocation. We do dull but important work."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Just show me to my desk."
Malfoy pointed to a desk covered with stacks and more stacks of parchments waiting to be processed. "That one over there."
Ron groaned. "Right."
"How is Granger?" Malfoy inquired.
Ron grimaced. "Don't know, don't care."
"Really? I thought you two were meant for each other. What went wrong?"
Ron's jaw locked. "Harry Potter. That's what went wrong!" he thought, but he just shrugged at Malfoy. "Women."
***
