Chapter 1: Une reconnaissance (A Meeting)
The blonde witch extended her hand and primly shook Hermione's. Her hand was warm, inviting even, though she knew the history behind them. Cold walls. Drab colours. Hermione tugged the sleeve of her jumper, and rubbed the bandaged portion of her forearm.
Hermione asked, 'What are you doing here, Mrs. Malfoy?'
The witch smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. 'Oh, I was about to purchase some wine when I saw you. Admittedly, I was conflicted whether or not to talk to you, but it is a public space so I am assured.'
'Well, Mrs. Malfoy, you have nothing to fear. I have no bad intentions.'
'I did not say you had bad intentions, Miss Granger.'
'No, you implied it.'
Just then, a waiter walked over to us. He was carrying my breakfast. Glancing at me, he asked, 'Mademoiselle de Bonnegrâce?'
I nodded. 'Ouais, c'est moi. Merci (Yes, that's me. Thanks).'
He put the plate down on the table and walked away. I sat back down and watched Mrs. Malfoy, one of her eyebrows quirked up. She pointed to a seat across mine and sat down. Waving to a waiter, she took a look through the menu and ordered. The waiter quickly went back into the cafe, leaving me alone with her. Her eyes were not of suspicion, but of curiosity. Silence abounded as unspoken history weaved between them; Hermione the tortured and Narcissa the spectator.
Mrs. Malfoy spoke first. 'Mademoiselle de Bonnegrâce? C'est un nom de famille intéressant (Miss de Bonnegrâce?That's an interesting family name).'
'de Bonnegrâce, c'est le nom de jeune fille de ma mère, Madame Malfoy. La famille de ma mère est française. Je me sers de ce nom pour… pour des raisons personnelles (de Bonnegrâce is my mother's maiden name, Mrs. Malfoy. My mother's family is French. I'm using it for… personal reasons).'
She smiled, genuinely this time. 'Ah, je vois. Cela explique comment tu connais le français. T'es seule ici, à Bordeaux? (Ah, I see. That explains how you know French. Are you alone here, in Bordeaux?)'
Hermione nodded. 'Mes parents sont morts, ils ont été tués pendant la deuxième guerre. J'habite seule à la maison de mes grands-parents, à quelques kilomètres d'ici. Et vous, Madame? Êtes-vous seule aussi? (My parents are dead, killed during the Second Wizarding War. I live alone in my grandparents' house, several kilometres from here. And you, Mrs? Are you alone as well?)'
She nodded, her eyes looking away from Hermione as she did. Hermione only knew bits and pieces of the story. Sure, she knew both male Malfoys were imprisoned in Azkaban with Draco being there waiting for a court date, but why was she here? Surely if she only needed several bottles of wine she could've had it sent. Why would she go all the way to Bordeaux for wine?
Hermione decided to confront her doubts head on. 'Madame Malfoy, puis-je vous poser une question? (Mrs. Malfoy, may I ask you something?)' She nodded, her eyes glancing down every now and then. 'Pourquoi êtes-vous ici, à Bordeaux? Si vous aviez besoin d'acheter des bouteilles de vin, alors sûrement, vous auriez pu vous les faire envoyer. Pourquoi aller si loin de votre famille? (Why are you here in Bordeaux? If you needed to buy some bottles of wine, surely you could have them sent to you. Why go here, away from your family?)'
She laughed mirthlessly as if to reassure herself. She fidgeted with her ring as if it didn't fit. 'Tu n'as pas dû suivre l'actualité en Angleterre alors. Je... Je suis exilée. Pour cinq ans. Je vais bientôt rentrer à Lyon, après ceci (You mustn't have followed the news in England, then. I… I'm exiled. For five years. I'll be returning to Lyon soon, after this).'
Oh.
As the conversation subdued, Hermione focused her attention on the woman opposite her. Her shoulders were raised, held by an invisible wire. The skin under her eyes had many folds, though they were hidden. Her forehead creases had doubled.
'Couldn't… couldn't you owl him?' She asked with a quivering voice.
Mrs. Malfoy continued fiddling with her ring. 'When you're exiled, you're declared persona non grata. That status also extends to messenger owls.'
Hermione's neck tightened. She whispered, 'That's unfair.'
Mrs. Malfoy's lips tugged at the corners briefly. 'La vie… Elle est rarement juste (Life… Life is rarely fair).'
Just as Hermione was about to reply, she glanced at her bicycle. Groceries. Meat. Vegetables. She then looked at her watch: 09:12. Seeing her food empty, she quickly stood up. 'I am so sorry, I've just realised the time. I have to hurry home and pack my groceries. Until next time, Madame Malfoy.'
Before Hermione could go, a warm hand grabbed her wrist. Mrs. Malfoy was there, her eyes downcast. 'Thank you as well, Mademoiselle de Bonnegrâce. May I speak something to you in case we may never meet again?'
Hermione nodded.
'I… I apologise. For everything my family and I have done. I know that mere apologies are not sufficient but I feel like it's my responsibility to start making amends. I have been blinded by love, by infatuation. For the love I bore for my parents, I lost two sisters; the eldest to power and the other to prejudice. For the love I bore for my husband and his Master, I lost him along with my only son. There's not a single day where I don't miss him. I know you suffered at the hands of my family. My husband and my son fought against you; my son bullied you for seven years. My eldest sister… did unspeakable things to you. I'm not asking you to forgive them, or even to accept my own apologies. From a sister, a wife, a mother, I only want you to know how very sorry I am.'
Hermione could not respond. She was silent. She watched as Mrs. Malfoy dropped her persona and revealed her vulnerable side. By the end, Hermione's lips moved but no sound came out. Just as Mrs. Malfoy nodded and walked away, Hermione found her voice.
'M-Mrs. Malfoy?'
She turned back, her eyes prickling with tears. 'Yes, Miss Granger?'
'I… I wonder if we c-could have tea tomorrow afternoon, maybe at three in the afternoon. At my house. Just to talk. P-please.'
She smiled. 'I would love that. How shall I contact you?'
'Just… Just go here again at one. I'll pick you up. Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.'
She nodded. 'Please, call me Narcissa.'
'Call me Hermione then.'
'Au revoir, Hermione.'
'Au revoir, Narcissa.'
/ / / / /
The sun shone brightly into the room, washing everything out in bright yellow. The light was slowly dimming, making the room clear. White walls floated into place. The aroma of bleach assaulted her. Cool air circulated around her. Two people slowly came into being; her parents, Helen and Robert Granger.
Hermione did not speak but heard her voice anyway. 'We have to try one more time.'
A male voice responded. 'No, I'm sorry Miss Granger, we can't risk it. Any more could destroy your parents' mental health.'
'Please. Let me try. One more time.'
The man sighed. 'One.'
Hermione raised her old vine wand, and aimed it to her parents' heads. 'Synapses reparo. Memorias restauro. Memoriarum reminiscere!'
A yellow light shot out, enveloping them both in it. Their eyes were glazed and then became clear. They frantically searched the room until their eyes landed on Hermione.
'Mum, Dad, I—'
Her mother spoke first. 'Why did you do that, Hermione?'
Her father spoke second. 'What happened to us?'
'We trusted you. We loved you. And this is how you repay us?'
Hermione's body shook. 'M-Mum, please, you have to understand, I—'
Her father stood up and exploded. 'We have to understand WHAT?! We have to understand that you, our only daughter, deleted our memories FOR A YEAR? Is that what we have to understand?!'
'D-Dad, I know it's hard, but please, all I did was to protect you—'
Her mother exploded this time. 'And what about you, Hermione? We're your parents, we are the ones who are supposed to protect you! How dare you take away my life, my choices, my will!'
Her father continued. 'We don't have magic, is that why you did this to us? We know we're not capable of the things you do, but why don't you trust us, Hermione? What have we done to deserve this?'
Hermione sobbed. 'Mum… Dad… Please. Let-let me just explain. Please. I beg you. I-It was dangerous, and I had to protect you from them. It was the only way. I promise.'
'And you couldn't do this without even asking us first?'
'Please, I—'
'No,' her mother's voice interrupted, 'you deleted my memories. You destroyed our lives. Our careers. Our memories. No. I won't stand for this. I don't have a daughter anymore. I don't need explanations, I don't want explanations. If you can cut us out that easily, I will cut you out just as well.'
She stood up and left. Hermione looked back to her father. 'Dad—'
He shook his head. 'She's right.'
'Please, what can I do to fix this? I'll do it, anything, please. Tell me how to fix this, Dad.'
He slowly got up and walked to the door. 'Stay away.'
Hermione's spirit broke. She slowly slid down, the ground shaking as she hit the ceramic floor. Everything broke, and whatever emotions she held inside came pouring out. Her muscles relaxed and her bones were non-existent. In the end, she was curled up on the floor, drowning in her own tears. She closed her eyes and drifted out.
She opened her eyes again in her bedroom. She slowly rose, cheeks damp. Half of her pillow was drenched in tears. She picked her wand and casted Scourgify. Once cleaned, she sauntered over to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and sat there for ten minutes. She finished her shower, put on nice clothes, and waited until it was one in the afternoon. After eating Emmanuelle's late breakfast and training with her wand, she quickly went outside and Apparated to the cafe. Though it was ten minutes to three, Narcissa was already there, prim and proper. Her face brightened when she saw Hermione.
She stood and shook her hand. 'Hermione.'
Hermione smiled. 'Narcissa.Shall we?'
Hermione and Narcissa walked together to a nearby alleyway before apparating to the Chateau. Once arrived, Narcissa released her arm and looked at the small—small according to Narcissa Malfoy—country house. It was a bit overgrown and the vines had climbed a bit further up the walls than Hermione would prefer, but it looked homely. Comfortable.
Narcissa spoke, 'This is yours, Mademoiselle?'
Hermione said, 'Yes, though it's originally my grandparents' house. Shall we, Madame?'
Narcissa nodded and both of them went into the drawing room where a teapot was already placed along with two empty cups and random assortments of additives. Emmanuelle was there, setting up the table and bringing some fruit to snack on.
Hermione said, 'Madame Malfoy, ceci c'est ma domestique, Emmanuelle Sonderies. Elle m'a servi depuis mon arrivée il y a quelques semaines (Mrs. Malfoy, this is my maid, Emmanuelle Sonderies. She's been with me since I arrived a few weeks ago).'
They shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and then walked out of the room. Hermione pointed to the seat opposite her and they sat down. Hermione asked how Narcissa preferred her tea and poured it; milk and two sugars. Hermione only put milk in hers as her parents disapproved of anything sugary.
Narcissa chuckled. 'Knowing your reputation in school, I am surprised that you have a maid.'
Hermione frowned. 'First, she was my grandparents' maid and after they passed away she was without a job, so when I moved in, I rehired her. Second, my reputation? I wasn't aware I had one, Narcissa.'
'Oh, Draco's always complained about you in his letters. He kept mentioning this thing you did in your Fourth Year, vomit? Spit? Spew?'
Hermione sighed. 'S.P.E.W., the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. At least I pay my servants and give them proper working hours.'
'You Gryffindors and your noble causes. Though, I suspect we're not here to discuss my elves.'
Hermione gulped. 'No, we are not. Honestly, I myself am unsure what to discuss. It's just that… Your apology yesterday. It caught me off guard. It's unexpected.'
Narcissa took a sip of her tea and waited. 'One truly appreciates what they have until they've lost it.'
Hermione understood that more than anyone else. The love of her life. Her future. Her parents. Her life. Suddenly noticing the humid air, she lifted her wand and opened the door. Fresh air flowed in, the curtains undulating in the wind.
Narcissa looked at Hermione with narrow eyes. She focused on the wand in Hermione's hand. It was long, maybe 10¾ or 11 inches in length with an ornate ivory handle. She said, 'That's a unique wand. May I?'
Hermione nodded, and handed the wand to her. Narcissa took the wand and inspected it. 'Hawthorn, just shy of 11 inches'. She peered down the end, seeing… nothing. Her eyebrows furrowed. 'No core?'
'There is one, you just can't see it. One has to have witnessed death in order to see it.'
Narcissa whispered, 'Thestral tail hair.'
Hermione nodded. 'I had Bellatrix's wand when we escaped. I used it afterwards but it didn't obey me. It took me several days to get my wand back but it refused to obey me as well. I must've tried thousands of wands in Ollivander's and none of them wanted me. I eventually went to Wizarding Paris to purchase one.'
Narcissa asked, 'Wizarding Paris? Which one did you go to, Monsieur LaPierre, Armand Gaultier, or Joseph Delacroix?' before handing it back to Hermione.
'All three. None of theirs wanted me. That was, until Gaultier gave me one from his rare collections. It was made in 1916 during the Great War, and its wielder died in a battle a few months later. The wand never responded to anyone afterwards. When he gave it to me, I felt like I was understood. Like I was not alone.'
'Is that what you are, Hermione, conflicted?' Hermione nodded. 'If you don't mind my asking, about what is it you're troubled?'
Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper. 'Plenty of things. Ron. My parents. My friends. The bodies I saw.'
'Ron? Ronald Weasley?'
She nodded. 'He's my boyfriend, though I guess it's ex-boyfriend now. He, erm, proposed to me last May. I thought it was too fast. We fought. I left. He left. I feel like it's my fault.'
Narcissa sighed. 'Hermione, look at me'. When she didn't respond, keeping her eyes glued to the teacup, Narcissa moved her chair until she was in front of Hermione. She cupped Hermione's chin and pushed until their eyes met. 'It's not your fault.'
Hermione's eyes prickled. 'Isn't it? I love him so much, so I should be happy when he proposed, right? Molly… She was so hurt. I shouldn't have rejected him, I should have—'
'Listen to me. It's not your fault. He's pure-blood, like his mother. It's what we know and with which we grew up.'
Hermione scoffed. 'Is that what you people always think about? Blood? So what if he's a pureblood, he's a blood-traitor, isn't he? Why does it matter?'
Narcissa shook her head. 'I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. What I meant was that it was normal in pure-blood circles to marry young. Arthur married Molly right after they graduated Hogwarts. I married Lucius one year after graduation.'
Hermione's eyes widened. 'What, why? What about your careers?'
Narcissa hung her head. 'Do you know what "coverture" is, Hermione?' She shook her head. 'Well, "coverture" is an old English concept. It states that, when women are married, our legal status is assumed by our husbands. That's why we adopt our husband's name after marriage; we do not exist outside of them. The pure-blood families know this, and that is why they marry young. At 17, you're an adult and your father can't be responsible for you any more, so they wed you off as soon as possible. After which, your husband is the one responsible for you. In a lot of cases, husbands forbid their wives from working.'
A tear fell from Hermione's eyes. 'That's unfair! How could they, how… Why… Why are you telling me this?'
Narcissa sighed and looked away. 'Because I'm explaining to you how things work in pure-blood society. Despite being called "blood-traitors", the Weasleys are still pure-blood, and Molly Prewett would know the things expected of her. Her and Arthur would raise their children accordingly and so…'
Hermione huffed. 'What… What should I do?'
'Do you love him?'
'With all my heart.'
'Do you want to marry him?'
'... No. Not right now.'
Narcissa smiled. 'You have your answer, then?'
Hermione nodded. 'Thank you. I have to admit, I would have never known you were Draco's mother, considering his behaviour at school'. At this, Narcissa's face darkened. She abruptly pulled away and tended to her teacup. Hermione quickly replied, 'I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought him up like that.'
Narcissa pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. 'No, it's fine, Hermione. It's my fault he ended up like that.'
'I-I'm sure it's not your fault, Narcissa.'
'It is', she said before taking a sip of her tea. 'Blood purity was something Lucius hammered into him.'
Hermione's breath seized in her throat. 'You… You didn't believe in blood purity?'
Narcissa sighed. 'I did, for a time. My family's motto is Toujours pur, always pure; blood purity has always been a central tenet in our family. Thus, I was brought up in that environment and I genuinely believed in it.'
'What made you stop?'
'A lot of things. The first, though, was when my sister walked out on us.'
Hermione noticed Narcissa's glistening eyes as she stared out the door, tears ready to spill. 'Andromeda?'
Two tears fell. 'You know Andi?'
Hermione nodded. 'As one of the only two Slytherins in the Order, her self-preservation skills are quite prominent. She and Kingsley would always interject during Order meetings or when Harry, Ron, and I were talking about what to do next, asking about contingencies or what happens if we die, and such. She'd often mutter, "Bloody Gryffindors…" under her breath afterwards.'
Narcissa chuckled. 'That sounds like Andi.' She picked up her handkerchief and dubbed her eyes. 'We were always close, me, Andi, and… Bella, but Andi was the one closest to me. I was only two years apart from her, unlike Bella.'
The question escaped her lips before she could think. 'So why did you kick her out?'
Narcissa opened her mouth as if to retort but quickly closed them. She closed her eyes. Took a breath. Breathed out. And then she said, quietly, 'Because it felt like she betrayed us. One morning, Bella and I woke up to find Andi's room pristine. Sheets folded. Wardrobe empty. It was as if no one had lived there in years. We rushed down the stairs to ask our parents, only to see them around the fireplace, with father clutching a letter. They radiated so much fury the air was imbued with them. The letter explained where she had gone, why she ran away, and… who she married. After which, our parents tightened their grip on us. I already had Lucius, but Bella… She was paired with a total stranger, Rodolphus Lestrange.'
'And you still believed in blood purity afterwards?'
She nodded. 'Yes, though not as pronounced as it was. I didn't believe muggles and muggleborns were cockroaches but I still thought they were a threat to the Wizarding World. It wasn't until the Da—, erm, Voldemort, stayed at Malfoy Manor that I stopped believing in it.'
'What happened to you?'
Narcissa's shoulders tensed, and her neck flexed so much her veins were popping out. 'Nothing happened to me, but Lucius and Draco… Lucius was given the Cruciatus near-daily for his failure during the Ministry, and Draco was given the task of murdering Albus Dumbledore. He used to come to me every night to hold me, drop his head on my chest, and cry as much as possible. I taught him Occlumency, along with Severus, to make sure he'll be safe from V-Voldemort's Legilimency.'
Hermione had no words. She hadn't known how bad things were. She remembered how the Draco Malfoy she knew from first year was so different from the Draco Malfoy she remembered in Sixth Year. Gone were the smirks and insults, and what replaced them were dark eyes with large bags under them, and hazy eyes that went nowhere.
In the silence, Hermione said quietly, 'My parents were killed.'
Narcissa asked, 'Pardon?'
Hermione cleared her throat and spoke a little louder. 'My parents were killed during the war. As Muggle parents and the parents of the Muggleborn one-third of the "Golden Trio", Death Eaters prioritised them. So, they did. That's why I'm here and not in London; I couldn't go back there and not remember…'
Hermione wiped her eyes before taking a long sip of tea. Narcissa replied, saying, 'I understand. Though I didn't lose my parents like that, I would be devastated if I lost Draco like that'. Looking to change the topic, she asked, 'So, Hermione, could you tell me who the de Bonnegrâce are? I admit, I wouldn't expect you to have some French blood.'
Hermione nodded, relieved to be redirected to another topic. 'Erm, I was born in Paris, actually, and I was raised there for five years before my parents relocated to Barnet in London. My mother actually changed her name to be a bit more English after moving here because she did not want to appear so posh.'
'Posh?'
Hermione chuckled. 'Erm, my mother's family is nobility, though to you I'm sure we're merely peasants dressed in gold. We were ennobled in 1809 during the First French Empire under Napoleon I as the Baron of Baigneaux, though since the monarchy doesn't exist anymore, it's just mere words. The wealth is still there of course but I've always been taught to be frugal.'
The conversation then steered to lighter topics from the full history of the Grangers and what it was they did to the little things Narcissa and her sisters did. Before they realised it, the sun was near the horizon. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn't realised three hours had passed. From the outside they were enemies: the Muggleborn friend of Harry Potter, one-third of the Golden Trio, and the Black matriarch, who was married to a Malfoy. Yet, around the table, the aura changed from hatred to love. Instead of the elitist and the egalitarian, there were only two hearts, bare for each to see; a daughter missing her mother, and a regretful woman seeking amends.
Just before the two women said their goodbyes, a large brown owl knocked on the door of Hermione's house. Hermione stood and opened it, carrying a rolled parchment. On top of the seal was a large M drawn as if they were wings, and on the bottom was written: MINISTRY OF MAGIC.
Hermione loudly exclaimed, 'It's from the British Ministry.'
Narcissa turned and said, 'Oh? I thought no one from Britain could contact you here.'
Hermione chuckled. 'All except two: Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.'
As Hermione unrolled the parchment, she skimmed through the body of pleasentries and jumped to the bottom. Her slight smile turned to a frown and her eyes dilated, something Narcissa noticed.
'Are you alright? I hope it's not something concerning.'
'N-No, it's just… Kingsley forwarded an official Ministry summons for me, to come on Tuesday, July 14th 1998.'
'What for?'
Hermione glanced at the woman in front of her. On one hand, she didn't want Narcissa to plead about it, but on the other, the two of them just bared their hearts open. Honesty should be key.
Yes, honesty. Come on, Hermione, you're a Gryffindor for God's sake!
Hermione gulped before she answered. 'It's a summons… asking me if I want to testify as a witness in the trial of Draco Lucius Malfoy.'
