Lucius never did take Hermione's advice to get a doctor to see
Narcissa, nor did she think he would. Ever since Hermione's threat, he had
been staying out of the house to avoid her at all costs. She knew he had
figured out that the decision she had to make was whether or not she would
get together with Draco and with each passing day, she found that decision
easier to make.
She and Draco went job-hunting for him the following day and searching through all of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. No matter what, Draco seemed insistent that there was something wrong with every job.
"I don't want to sell wands," he whined when they passed Ollivander's. "All those dumb questions."
"What about Quidditch supplies?" Hermione asked as they passed the Quidditch shop. She thought she saw Harry inside but it was only a reflection of a boy on the street who also had messy black hair.
"Reminds me of how I didn't get to play professional Quidditch," was his excuse. And so they continued on. "Honeydukes has too many screaming kids. I don't want to serve people in a coffeehouse. I don't want to have to dress people for robes."
"Is there anything you are willing to do?" Hermione asked as they roamed around Hogsmeade for the third time.
There was a hint of laughter in Draco's eyes before he answered. "Work at the Ministry," he said and Hermione had a strong feeling that was the polite version of what he wanted to say. "I got used to it there."
"Well, you're going to have to adapt accordingly," she told him in frustration. "But let's get out of here for today; your mind is working overtime right now." They left the village and headed back towards the Manor. When they arrived, Hermione headed into the house, but Draco draped his arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the back.
"Where are you going?" she asked, eager to escape to her journal. Draco had been giving her furtive little looks all day long and she couldn't wait to confess these in her writings.
"In the backyard."
"That's great; what for?"
He smiled in her direction. "No particular reason." He continued to lead her around the back to the bench where they usually sat. Hermione discovered that aside from her journal, this bench was her only means of sanity when she felt hurt, angry or scared.
"Okay, now that we're here, what do we do?" Hermione looked around, trying to shield her eyes from the sunlight. They had gotten an early start to the day and it was barely noon, making the sun hotter and more prominent than anything else.
"Sit and relax," Draco said, leaning back against the bench and stretching his arms out. One landed on the back of the bench behind Hermione, only this time she didn't move away. She leaned closer to him, wondering if the butterflies in her stomach were ever going to cease their fluttering wings.
"Do you ever wonder if you could ever just get up and walk away?" Draco asked softly. Hermione glanced at him and saw that he was looking up in the direction of the sun.
"Sometimes," she answered just as softly, thinking of her parents' betrayals in her life so far. "Sometimes I just wish that I could drown the whole world out."
Draco's smile had faded long ago and he now wore a contemplating look that plainly confessed his confusion. "I just don't get it," he muttered to himself. "I really don't."
"Don't get what?" Hermione asked, although she knew the answer already.
"Everything," he said simply, raising his hands in the air slightly. "Everything that means anything, I never understand any of it." He was silent for a few moments, giving Hermione the window of opportunity she had been waiting for.
"When your mom was acting like we were Bellatrix and your father, was she reliving a memory or something? Did that really happen?" Almost immediately, she regretted it because Draco's eyes had filled with fury.
"Yeah," he admitted tightly. "This was long before I was born and before Bella married Rodolphus. Apparently she and my father had been getting along a little too well during one of Bella's visits and my mother found them in her room." Draco looked a little upset at this thought. "The room that she stayed in," he said, his voice strained, "was your room."
"Oh." Hermione didn't know how else to address this comment. She was sleeping in the same room that Draco's evil Aunt Bella had slept in, the same room that Bellatrix and Lucius had shared who knows how many passionate nights, the same room that Hermione often felt silvery, cold drafts float through the room. Her mind began to work overtime as she imagined waking up to find a furious Bellatrix Black standing over her.
"You know about Bella, right?" Draco asked, his voice breaking into her thoughts.
She shook her head. "The only thing I know is that she killed Sirius Black. And obviously I know how she died."
Draco turned away to watch the bright sun again. "She was more than just the Dark Lord's most faithful servant," he said, his voice oddly hushed. "She was much more than that. She was more like a mistress to him than anything. She valued the pain he gave her above anything else. It was sickening." His voice went quiet for a few moments while he mouthed empty words. "If Potter hadn't killed her, the Dark Lord would have," he finally finished, leaving Hermione's mind reeling.
"If she was his mistress, why would he kill her?"
"There were rumours," Draco replied, hesitant to reveal the story. "Rumours among Death Eaters and the wizarding world in general. People were saying that she was pregnant." He choked on his very own words. "With His child."
"Voldemort's?" Hermione whispered and Draco shushed her.
"Father still has 'old friends' over sometimes," he warned her and she knew he meant fellow Death Eaters. "If they hear you speak his name." He shook his head. "Let's just say, there will be hell to pay."
Hermione nodded knowingly. She would never forget the shrill scream of Bellatrix Lestrange as she hollered that Harry wasn't worthy enough to speak the Dark Lord's name. "Now that he's back in power, it's even worse, isn't it?" she asked fearfully, although she fully knew the answer.
Draco nodded slowly before changing his mind and shaking his head. "Not completely," he told her truthfully. "He's not as strong as last time."
"And how do you feel about this?"
Draco only shrugged. "I can't say too much," he warned. "If I go against it, Dad hates me. If I go for it, I may lose some things that mean a lot to me." He glanced into her eyes then and she knew immediately that he was talking about her.
She stared back at him, half-closing her eyes. She waited for him to press his lips against hers like he had before but no such motion came. When she opened her eyes again, she was aware that Draco's attention wasn't even focused on her. He was rather busy watching his mother stroll along the grounds, talking to invisible guests.
"We want to put the tent here," she said, gesturing to thin air. "Bella is determined to be married outside, whether or not the weather is ideal." She looked in their direction and her face lit up. "There's the happy couple there!" she cried, pretending to lead the way to them. "Bella, Rodolphus, this is Stephen, the wedding director." She held her hand out to invisibility and Hermione nodded weakly. She didn't know how to respond to Narcissa's antics.
"Mum," Draco said softly. "I think you should lie down again."
"Why, Rodolphus?" she asked, peering at him curiously. "I don't want to miss out on any of the wedding planning."
"Mum, it's me, Draco," he said, standing to take her arm. "Let's go inside."
"Narcissa! Get in here!" bellowed Lucius' voice from the back terrace. Immediately, as though someone had poked her with white-hot coals, Narcissa jumped back to reality and called back to her husband.
"Coming, dear!" She hurried away from the two confused teenagers and Draco flopped back down on the bench heavily. Hermione just patted his back lightly, unsure of how else to treat him.
It wasn't until three days later that Hermione received her first owl from Albus Dumbledore. She tore this letter open with much more anticipation than the one from her mother, and read it eagerly.
"As always, Hermione, I hope this letter finds you in good health. I'm sure if you've had any concerns or problems, you would have written me by now. I have heard of your parents' trip to Australia and I am a little concerned. If anything goes wrong, or you need help with anything, you will not be able to return to your home there. So if an emergency arises, please don't hesitate to contact me. Other than that, I hope your vacation is going well. Please give my regards to Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley if you hear from them at all. Best wishes, Albus Dumbledore."
Dumbledore! Why hadn't she thought of him before? She hurried up to her room from the garden by the terrace and grabbed her writing items. Sitting down on her bed, she began to scrawl a reply to Dumbledore.
"Dear Professor, I appreciate you sending the letter and your concerns, but I assure you that everything is going okay, so far. If any problems arise in the near future, you will be the first to know.
"There is a little matter that I would like your advice on. It seems Narcissa Malfoy has been losing track of time lately and in a serious way. She often mistakes Draco for his father and Rodolphus Lestrange and myself for Bellatrix Lestrange. I am at a loss for what to do, Professor, and I'm relying on your help. Lucius doesn't seem to care and Draco's convinced that the whole reason behind this is because Lucius manages Narcissa's thoughts and behaviour at all times and this madness is just a result of years of mental torture.
"If you have any advice at all, Professor, I would gladly appreciate it. Narcissa Malfoy hasn't been the best of human beings in the past, but she's just that: a human being. Thank you again for your letter and I hope to hear from you soon."
Hermione signed the letter, wondering if she was doing the right thing. What if Dumbledore intervened? On second thought, Hermione gave her head a shake. Albus Dumbledore wasn't meddlesome; he would give her the advice she asked for and question her on if it worked later on during the summer. That was alright with Hermione because that's what she was aiming for.
She sealed the letter and took it downstairs to put it in the post pile. While down there, she helped herself to a drink of cool water as she watched poor Narcissa wander across the lawn, chattering aimlessly to herself. Hermione sighed; would there ever be any relief for Narcissa Malfoy?
She and Draco went job-hunting for him the following day and searching through all of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. No matter what, Draco seemed insistent that there was something wrong with every job.
"I don't want to sell wands," he whined when they passed Ollivander's. "All those dumb questions."
"What about Quidditch supplies?" Hermione asked as they passed the Quidditch shop. She thought she saw Harry inside but it was only a reflection of a boy on the street who also had messy black hair.
"Reminds me of how I didn't get to play professional Quidditch," was his excuse. And so they continued on. "Honeydukes has too many screaming kids. I don't want to serve people in a coffeehouse. I don't want to have to dress people for robes."
"Is there anything you are willing to do?" Hermione asked as they roamed around Hogsmeade for the third time.
There was a hint of laughter in Draco's eyes before he answered. "Work at the Ministry," he said and Hermione had a strong feeling that was the polite version of what he wanted to say. "I got used to it there."
"Well, you're going to have to adapt accordingly," she told him in frustration. "But let's get out of here for today; your mind is working overtime right now." They left the village and headed back towards the Manor. When they arrived, Hermione headed into the house, but Draco draped his arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the back.
"Where are you going?" she asked, eager to escape to her journal. Draco had been giving her furtive little looks all day long and she couldn't wait to confess these in her writings.
"In the backyard."
"That's great; what for?"
He smiled in her direction. "No particular reason." He continued to lead her around the back to the bench where they usually sat. Hermione discovered that aside from her journal, this bench was her only means of sanity when she felt hurt, angry or scared.
"Okay, now that we're here, what do we do?" Hermione looked around, trying to shield her eyes from the sunlight. They had gotten an early start to the day and it was barely noon, making the sun hotter and more prominent than anything else.
"Sit and relax," Draco said, leaning back against the bench and stretching his arms out. One landed on the back of the bench behind Hermione, only this time she didn't move away. She leaned closer to him, wondering if the butterflies in her stomach were ever going to cease their fluttering wings.
"Do you ever wonder if you could ever just get up and walk away?" Draco asked softly. Hermione glanced at him and saw that he was looking up in the direction of the sun.
"Sometimes," she answered just as softly, thinking of her parents' betrayals in her life so far. "Sometimes I just wish that I could drown the whole world out."
Draco's smile had faded long ago and he now wore a contemplating look that plainly confessed his confusion. "I just don't get it," he muttered to himself. "I really don't."
"Don't get what?" Hermione asked, although she knew the answer already.
"Everything," he said simply, raising his hands in the air slightly. "Everything that means anything, I never understand any of it." He was silent for a few moments, giving Hermione the window of opportunity she had been waiting for.
"When your mom was acting like we were Bellatrix and your father, was she reliving a memory or something? Did that really happen?" Almost immediately, she regretted it because Draco's eyes had filled with fury.
"Yeah," he admitted tightly. "This was long before I was born and before Bella married Rodolphus. Apparently she and my father had been getting along a little too well during one of Bella's visits and my mother found them in her room." Draco looked a little upset at this thought. "The room that she stayed in," he said, his voice strained, "was your room."
"Oh." Hermione didn't know how else to address this comment. She was sleeping in the same room that Draco's evil Aunt Bella had slept in, the same room that Bellatrix and Lucius had shared who knows how many passionate nights, the same room that Hermione often felt silvery, cold drafts float through the room. Her mind began to work overtime as she imagined waking up to find a furious Bellatrix Black standing over her.
"You know about Bella, right?" Draco asked, his voice breaking into her thoughts.
She shook her head. "The only thing I know is that she killed Sirius Black. And obviously I know how she died."
Draco turned away to watch the bright sun again. "She was more than just the Dark Lord's most faithful servant," he said, his voice oddly hushed. "She was much more than that. She was more like a mistress to him than anything. She valued the pain he gave her above anything else. It was sickening." His voice went quiet for a few moments while he mouthed empty words. "If Potter hadn't killed her, the Dark Lord would have," he finally finished, leaving Hermione's mind reeling.
"If she was his mistress, why would he kill her?"
"There were rumours," Draco replied, hesitant to reveal the story. "Rumours among Death Eaters and the wizarding world in general. People were saying that she was pregnant." He choked on his very own words. "With His child."
"Voldemort's?" Hermione whispered and Draco shushed her.
"Father still has 'old friends' over sometimes," he warned her and she knew he meant fellow Death Eaters. "If they hear you speak his name." He shook his head. "Let's just say, there will be hell to pay."
Hermione nodded knowingly. She would never forget the shrill scream of Bellatrix Lestrange as she hollered that Harry wasn't worthy enough to speak the Dark Lord's name. "Now that he's back in power, it's even worse, isn't it?" she asked fearfully, although she fully knew the answer.
Draco nodded slowly before changing his mind and shaking his head. "Not completely," he told her truthfully. "He's not as strong as last time."
"And how do you feel about this?"
Draco only shrugged. "I can't say too much," he warned. "If I go against it, Dad hates me. If I go for it, I may lose some things that mean a lot to me." He glanced into her eyes then and she knew immediately that he was talking about her.
She stared back at him, half-closing her eyes. She waited for him to press his lips against hers like he had before but no such motion came. When she opened her eyes again, she was aware that Draco's attention wasn't even focused on her. He was rather busy watching his mother stroll along the grounds, talking to invisible guests.
"We want to put the tent here," she said, gesturing to thin air. "Bella is determined to be married outside, whether or not the weather is ideal." She looked in their direction and her face lit up. "There's the happy couple there!" she cried, pretending to lead the way to them. "Bella, Rodolphus, this is Stephen, the wedding director." She held her hand out to invisibility and Hermione nodded weakly. She didn't know how to respond to Narcissa's antics.
"Mum," Draco said softly. "I think you should lie down again."
"Why, Rodolphus?" she asked, peering at him curiously. "I don't want to miss out on any of the wedding planning."
"Mum, it's me, Draco," he said, standing to take her arm. "Let's go inside."
"Narcissa! Get in here!" bellowed Lucius' voice from the back terrace. Immediately, as though someone had poked her with white-hot coals, Narcissa jumped back to reality and called back to her husband.
"Coming, dear!" She hurried away from the two confused teenagers and Draco flopped back down on the bench heavily. Hermione just patted his back lightly, unsure of how else to treat him.
It wasn't until three days later that Hermione received her first owl from Albus Dumbledore. She tore this letter open with much more anticipation than the one from her mother, and read it eagerly.
"As always, Hermione, I hope this letter finds you in good health. I'm sure if you've had any concerns or problems, you would have written me by now. I have heard of your parents' trip to Australia and I am a little concerned. If anything goes wrong, or you need help with anything, you will not be able to return to your home there. So if an emergency arises, please don't hesitate to contact me. Other than that, I hope your vacation is going well. Please give my regards to Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley if you hear from them at all. Best wishes, Albus Dumbledore."
Dumbledore! Why hadn't she thought of him before? She hurried up to her room from the garden by the terrace and grabbed her writing items. Sitting down on her bed, she began to scrawl a reply to Dumbledore.
"Dear Professor, I appreciate you sending the letter and your concerns, but I assure you that everything is going okay, so far. If any problems arise in the near future, you will be the first to know.
"There is a little matter that I would like your advice on. It seems Narcissa Malfoy has been losing track of time lately and in a serious way. She often mistakes Draco for his father and Rodolphus Lestrange and myself for Bellatrix Lestrange. I am at a loss for what to do, Professor, and I'm relying on your help. Lucius doesn't seem to care and Draco's convinced that the whole reason behind this is because Lucius manages Narcissa's thoughts and behaviour at all times and this madness is just a result of years of mental torture.
"If you have any advice at all, Professor, I would gladly appreciate it. Narcissa Malfoy hasn't been the best of human beings in the past, but she's just that: a human being. Thank you again for your letter and I hope to hear from you soon."
Hermione signed the letter, wondering if she was doing the right thing. What if Dumbledore intervened? On second thought, Hermione gave her head a shake. Albus Dumbledore wasn't meddlesome; he would give her the advice she asked for and question her on if it worked later on during the summer. That was alright with Hermione because that's what she was aiming for.
She sealed the letter and took it downstairs to put it in the post pile. While down there, she helped herself to a drink of cool water as she watched poor Narcissa wander across the lawn, chattering aimlessly to herself. Hermione sighed; would there ever be any relief for Narcissa Malfoy?