Disclaimer: All characters presented in the fic are the property of J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with them on occasion
Author's Note: Written for elementaldeity for the dmhgficexchange on livejournal.
Special Thanks: Terri, Inell, Zephyr and especially nakhashmekashefah for the wonderful feed back especially in the eleventh hour.
Chapter Three - New Allies and Old Enemies
In the two weeks leading up to the Yule Holidays, Hermione and Draco fell into a comfortable routine. In her meetings with Professors Dumbledore and Snape they had both agreed that, while he might not be ready to rejoin the rest of the school, it was in his best interest that they return him to some semblance of normalcy as soon as possible.
Their shared schedule, which had once seemed to be a curse for the both of them, now proved to be a blessing for Draco. The Headmaster had made arrangements for all of Draco's professors to formulate exams to test the material that they had covered during the fall term. Professor Snape had been insistent in arguing that Draco should be given every opportunity to graduate with the rest of his class at the end of the term and Professor Dumbledore had agreed.
Hermione had been flustered when she had been informed that she would need to tutor Draco in the material that he had missed since the second week of the term when he had been abducted. Yet, he had surprised her when they began revising. She had assumed, throughout the years, that Draco had been as successful in school as he had, largely due to his name. But, as she began to review first the Charms work, figuring that the work was fairly intuitive and simple, and then moved onto History of Magic, she found that she had greatly underestimated his intellect.
Draco Malfoy had an incredibly keen sense of recall. Hermione found that once she introduced a new concept to him, she never had to revisit it. His ability to apply the theory he had learned was also impressive. Hermione found that they were able to cover the majority of the material from the fall term before the Yule Holidays. Draco would spend much of the day reviewing the texts, while Hermione would either sit with Harry or do her own classwork. In the evenings, they would sit together, reviewing Hermione's old assignments or discussing the material and how it was practically applied. The review sessions proved to be mutually beneficial as they reinforced the information that Draco was learning while affording Hermione the opportunity to review the material, making sure that her understanding was concrete. She was surprised to find that her time spent with him could even be considered somewhat enjoyable.
He had proven to be much more intellectual than she had given him credit for, demonstrating that, while he had not spent his days locked away in a corner of the library or anxiously answering every question posed to the class, he could still hold his own. In fact, though she loathed admitting it, Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that had he chosen to spend his years at Hogwarts in the same manner that she had, she might not have such a firm holding as the top student in her class.
What had been truly refreshing to see, however, were signs of the old Draco. They still referred to each other using their surnames, that had never changed, yet his temperament was softer. Gradually, though, as they continued to review the coursework that he had missed, a fire arose in him. This one was acceptable; it didn't come with insults or slurs attached, just a passionate defense of his opinions.
History of Magic was a subject that often brought rigorous debate between the two. Draco, a product of an elitist, pureblooded upbringing, often did not see eye to eye with Hermione as they would discuss the social atmosphere in relationship to different historical events.
It was on the eve of Yule that they became engaged in a particularly heated debate over what led to the Goblin Rebellion of 1612.
"Malfoy, you are impossible. You dare call the Goblins actions savage and reprehensible," Hermione questioned, her fists clenched at her side as she tried to contain her frustration at Draco's extremely small-minded view of the events that took place in the rebellion.
"Savage, reprehensible, barbaric…" he drawled, before turning to her and arching an eyebrow. "Shall I continue?"
"I cannot believe that you can sit here and say that with a good conscience. What would you do if…"
"Calm down, Granger. I agree; the way in which the Goblins were treated was reprehensible, yet, that does not excuse the massacre that they reveled in under the guise of rebellion."
"Draco," Hermione said, straining to keep his composure. "Honestly. How would you react if your life was not your own? You had no home to call your own. No say in any facet of your life, not even that of the lives of your children?"
Draco opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted from the other side of the room, "I imagine that even Malfoy, here, might go savage," a hoarse voice whispered.
Forgetting their debate, Hermione sprang up from the bed and crossed the room. "Harry, oh my god, you're awake," she said, throwing herself across his chest as tears spilled from her eyes.
Harry chuckled weakly, groaning as he brushed Hermione's curls out of his mouth. "It's nice to know I was missed but I'd hate to survive Voldemort only to die suffocated beneath my best friend's hair."
Hermione smiled, wiping away the tears in her eyes. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry, it's just we were so worried," she said, biting her lip as she resisted the urge to throw herself on him again.
"I missed you too, 'Mione," Harry smiled at his friend before turning his head to the side. "Although, it looks like you've been keeping some… interesting, for lack of a better word, company. Where's Ron?"
"He's going to be livid, but his mum insisted that he and Ginny come home for Hols as they weren't allowed in to visit," Hermione paused, as she turned tentatively to Malfoy before looking back at Harry. "She didn't want them moping around. He wanted to…"
Harry's shoulders fell a little, but he continued smiling. "That's all right. You'll just have to owl him and tell him to get his sorry arse back here straight away. So what's the git…" Harry started, looking at Malfoy before trailing off as he met Hermione's warning gaze.
Glancing at Malfoy, Hermione felt somewhat afraid that he would crawl back into the shell that he'd just so recently shed, but was met instead with a surprising fire, one that clearly still viewed Harry as a rival of sorts. Sighing, Hermione launched into an explanation of coming across Draco in the final battle; surprising herself as she emphasized the atrocities he'd seen in an effort to inspire a truce of some sort between the two.
Harry looked over at Malfoy, studying him as if looking for a sign of proof before speaking, "So, I take it that you've given up on an illustrious career in murder and mayhem?"
Ignoring Hermione's huff of protest, Harry continued, "Look Malfoy, I'm truly sorry for what you've gone through, if Hermione's accounting is accurate. But I won't lie, if that's what it took for you to realize what a monster Voldemort is, I'm glad," Harry paused momentarily before adding somberly, "both for what you endured and the fact that you survived."
The atmosphere was filled with tension as the severity of Harry's words hung in the air. Hermione looked back at Draco. The urge to shield him from the ugly truth in what her friend had said was almost unbearable.
As she turned, with narrowed eyes, to scold her friend, Draco's calm voice surprised her. With a muttered, "Likewise, Potter," Draco managed to follow Harry's lead in putting seven years of hate behind them.
The morning of Yule was truly a joyous occasion. While the gift exchange was not a part of the morning's celebration, Hermione ensured that any present she might receive were sent to her room to be opened in private as no one had expected Harry's recovery or imagined that Draco would receive anything. The two Gryffindors were more than satisfied with spending the day in each other's company.
Madam Pomfrey had indicated to Hermione that Harry was welcome to stay in the cordoned off section of the hospital wing to rest as Malfoy appeared to have become acclimated to his presence. And so the two happily sat around chatting, Hermione anxious to fill him in on what he'd missed, namely, Luna finally managing to pin Ron down. Harry laughed heartily at the idea of 'Ron falling victim to the lunacy that is Lovegood,' ignoring Hermione's chastising when it came to talking about the younger witch.
Having forgotten about the other party in the room, both turned their heads sharply as a too familiar drawl sounded. "I don't know, I think it makes sense. It will be nice for Weasley to finally associate with a female he can keep mental pace with. Merlin knows he couldn't keep up with you," he smirked, as he winked at Hermione, his features gentling into a smile.
"Well, call me a Slytherin, but I do believe that Malfoy here has managed to make a joke, without malice even," Harry grinned, as he and Hermione erupted in a fit of hysteria.
Draco reclaimed his perfected smirk, though his eyes betrayed it with laughter as he replied, "The day anyone calls you Slytherin, is the day that Father Christmas invokes the spirit of Grindelwald."
The rest of the morning was spent in lighthearted banter. Draco, behaving more like himself than Hermione had seen thus far. She was truly amazed that, despite their troubled past, it took Harry to bring him out of his self-imprisonment. Far more amazing was the fact that the two seemed to be getting along fairly well.
No, they weren't behaving remotely as friends. In fact, to the untrained observer, they might have appeared to be acting just as they had at the start of term, seizing every opportunity to bait the other. But Hermione knew better; Harry's body language was relaxed, his fists unfurled- very unlike other confrontations between him and the Slytherin, where she, often times, had to physically restrain him. And Draco -, she couldn't put her finger on it but she could feel it. There was a sense of calm about him as well, one that she had never seen before; no, something had definitely changed.
Although they were unable to join the others who had remained at Hogwarts over the Holidays for the feast, the house-elves spared no detail in what was sent to the hospital wing. Hermione didn't notice Draco's momentary silence as they Apparated and Disapparated with the food and decorations, but was relieved when Harry was able to extend a verbal assault and coax a reaction out of him, pulling him back to the present.
The verbal warfare at the table extended well past the end of the meal. Hermione shook her head as she compared each offensive to one of Ron's beloved chess pieces; animated to deliver very convincing damage, but ultimately harmless.
Laughing as she opened the window to intercept an owl, she commented dryly, "Perhaps I should ask Professor McGonagall about becoming an Animagus with the form of an owl. Obviously that's what it takes to get you two to shut up."
"Who's it for, 'Mione," Harry asked, as he stood to walk over to where she was unfastening a parcel.
"It's for me," Draco replied stoically, recognizing his father's owl.
Hermione instinctively moved to cross the room towards him but froze as he stood to meet her. It was the first time, since they had returned to Hogwarts, he had left his bed for a reason other than to relieve himself. He had even taken to cleansing himself magically over showering and changing.
Too stunned to do otherwise, Hermione allowed him to retrieve the parcel from her lax grip as he crossed to the far side of the hospital wing and sat on an empty bed. Looking up at Harry as he shrugged his shoulders, Hermione mentally chastised herself. 'Did you think he would stay in bed forever,' she asked herself as she considered Harry's enquiry as to what the package could be. Contemplating which one of his dorm mates might have sent the package, Hermione turned suddenly towards Draco.
Startled by her sudden movement, Harry cast Hermione a questioning glance before following her eyes.
"What's wrong with him, 'Mione," he asked, startled by the pale wizard sitting rigidly upon the bed. He was holding a small jewelry box. "What's in the box, Malfoy?" Harry asked, walking over to stand behind him, accepting the box as Draco wordlessly held it up.
Hermione joined the two wizards on the other side of the room and peered inside of the box. Lying on a bed of red velvet was a pair of cuff links surrounded by three ribbons. The ribbons were the most delicate pieces of cloth that she'd ever seen. They were the color of emeralds- a brilliant green, with a luminescence running through them. Upon closer examination, flecks of white-gold cloth could be seen woven through the fine satin material.
Hermione reached in to straighten one of the cuff links that was turned on its side. She snatched her hand back as movement caught her eye. Slithering from one ribbon to the next was an enchanted silver serpent, no - basilisk she noted on closer examination. It was an understated accent to the ribbons, as they were quite thin themselves, but noticeable once the light hit the flecks of emerald used to demarcate their eyes.
Harry removed a cuff link after noting Hermione's hesitation. A deep green lacquer covered the golden accoutrement, small accent diamonds completing the 'M' monogram in the center. Looking down at Malfoy, realization dawning in his eyes, Harry laid his hand on the boys shoulder and spoke softly, "I'm sorry Malfoy."
At the sound of Harry's voice, Draco coughed his disbelief. "I'm quite convinced that you feel that my father's death will be a great loss to society, Potter," he drawled. He flinched as Hermione sat next to him and replaced Harry's hand with her own. "It might be hard for you to believe, but I'm not sorry to see him dead. His years spent in servitude to that lunatic, the constant pressuring that I follow in his footsteps, I resented that all of my life. But the one thing I always admired about my father was his power; his confidence and strength. To see him cower before an idiot like Fudge and openly betray all that he had ever taught me, that is when he ceased to be my father.
"Do you know, when I was first captured, I still held on to the lessons that my father had taught me through the years. I can't say that I hated him, but I was prepared to do whatever the Dark…" he started before correcting himself, "Voldemort asked of me, even if it meant killing my own father.
"It wasn't until Rookwood explained to me how inconsequential I was to Voldemort that I hated my father. He involved my mother and me in something so perverse, something that cared little of intentions or loyalties against our own will; and, in a singular act of desperation, showed how little he valued either of our lives. He had to have known it would come to this…"
"Draco, what do you mean?" Hermione enquired. "Voldemort is dead, whatever happened to your parents…"
Draco snapped at her, his eyes full of fire, "Do use your head, Granger. No battle ends cleanly. Every sympathizer with the losing side would have to be wiped from the face of the earth in order for that to happen. Augustus Rookwood survived the final battle, didn't he?"
Hermione's mouth gaped as she looked up at him. "We… we couldn't find his body. But, how did you know?"
"Because, Hermione," he began, "he is the one who sent me this present. I can smell his stench upon my mother's prized ribbons." Draco's face struggled to maintain his composure as the memory of his mother, sitting in her quarters while the house-elves braided the ribbons in amongst her fine hair, flashed before his eyes.
"But…Gods, Draco- I mean, I know they were your parents, but they betrayed him. It can't be easy, but at least it is over."
Draco fingered the locks of hair that he had removed from the box before handing it to Harry. "It's far from over," he stated softly. "This is a charm that my mother had fashioned when I was born. It was to afford me certain protections so long as it remained at the place of my birth."
Hermione tentatively reached for the charm, examining it carefully when he surrendered it to her outstretched hand. It was a cluster of about fifty hairs. They were very fine and fair, much as she imagined his hair had been at birth. Clasping the hairs together was an intricate braid of different herbal flowers, peels, and root shavings that had been bound together and preserved with magic.
As if answering the question that was running through her mind, Malfoy began to identify each ingredient that went into the charm. "Bergamot peel, to preserve the Malfoy Beauty; Chamomile, aids in maintaining ones composure; Damania, ensures that one recalls the privilege of carrying the Malfoy name."
Harry stifled a cough, but Hermione and Draco's attention remained affixed on the item. "Garlic, to ensure good health; Ginseng, because a Malfoy must always be alert and prepared; Dandelion, to ensure that the blood remains pure; all banded around a thin sprig of oak, to carry on the strength of the Malfoy line."
Harry considered the charm's meaning, noting Draco's darkening eyes. "Okay Malfoy, so your mother's charm is no longer effective as it has been removed from the Manor. But that's just a protective charm, right? So long as you're in good health and here at Hogwarts, you'll be fine. Now that Voldemort is gone, the Ministry is bound to round up the last of his followers."
"Potter," Draco responded exasperatedly, "You have no idea how far- reaching Voldemort's arm was. They will not stop until they feel that my father's sins have been atoned for, not until the last of his seed has fallen."
Hermione shook her head, "No Draco, Harry's right," she countered, passing the lock of hair back to Draco. "You'll be safe here until graduation, at least. And, in all likelihood, the last of the Death Eaters will be rounded up by then."
Draco silently nodded, not wishing to fight the calculable optimism of the two Gryffindors. Though he willed his face to relax and convey his acceptance of their reasoning, his eyes remained dark as Rookwood's words resonated in his mind, the sins of the father.
Review Responses:
Artemis1860: ask and ye shall receive :) Chapters 5 and 6 are out to beta now, so hopefully I will have them back in a couple of days so I can keep posting every other day or so.... Again, glad that you enjoyed.
TigerLilly1889: Glad that you're enjoying it. Here's your update :)
Moon-n-Universe-Goddess: So glad that you like it. Actually the entire story is written, I'm just having the end parts beta'ed now.
TheManWhoLetTheBoyLive: Glad that you're enjoying it. I am going to try and update this soon. It's all been written, I'm just having the later chapters beta'ed now.
Author's Note: Written for elementaldeity for the dmhgficexchange on livejournal.
Special Thanks: Terri, Inell, Zephyr and especially nakhashmekashefah for the wonderful feed back especially in the eleventh hour.
Chapter Three - New Allies and Old Enemies
In the two weeks leading up to the Yule Holidays, Hermione and Draco fell into a comfortable routine. In her meetings with Professors Dumbledore and Snape they had both agreed that, while he might not be ready to rejoin the rest of the school, it was in his best interest that they return him to some semblance of normalcy as soon as possible.
Their shared schedule, which had once seemed to be a curse for the both of them, now proved to be a blessing for Draco. The Headmaster had made arrangements for all of Draco's professors to formulate exams to test the material that they had covered during the fall term. Professor Snape had been insistent in arguing that Draco should be given every opportunity to graduate with the rest of his class at the end of the term and Professor Dumbledore had agreed.
Hermione had been flustered when she had been informed that she would need to tutor Draco in the material that he had missed since the second week of the term when he had been abducted. Yet, he had surprised her when they began revising. She had assumed, throughout the years, that Draco had been as successful in school as he had, largely due to his name. But, as she began to review first the Charms work, figuring that the work was fairly intuitive and simple, and then moved onto History of Magic, she found that she had greatly underestimated his intellect.
Draco Malfoy had an incredibly keen sense of recall. Hermione found that once she introduced a new concept to him, she never had to revisit it. His ability to apply the theory he had learned was also impressive. Hermione found that they were able to cover the majority of the material from the fall term before the Yule Holidays. Draco would spend much of the day reviewing the texts, while Hermione would either sit with Harry or do her own classwork. In the evenings, they would sit together, reviewing Hermione's old assignments or discussing the material and how it was practically applied. The review sessions proved to be mutually beneficial as they reinforced the information that Draco was learning while affording Hermione the opportunity to review the material, making sure that her understanding was concrete. She was surprised to find that her time spent with him could even be considered somewhat enjoyable.
He had proven to be much more intellectual than she had given him credit for, demonstrating that, while he had not spent his days locked away in a corner of the library or anxiously answering every question posed to the class, he could still hold his own. In fact, though she loathed admitting it, Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that had he chosen to spend his years at Hogwarts in the same manner that she had, she might not have such a firm holding as the top student in her class.
What had been truly refreshing to see, however, were signs of the old Draco. They still referred to each other using their surnames, that had never changed, yet his temperament was softer. Gradually, though, as they continued to review the coursework that he had missed, a fire arose in him. This one was acceptable; it didn't come with insults or slurs attached, just a passionate defense of his opinions.
History of Magic was a subject that often brought rigorous debate between the two. Draco, a product of an elitist, pureblooded upbringing, often did not see eye to eye with Hermione as they would discuss the social atmosphere in relationship to different historical events.
It was on the eve of Yule that they became engaged in a particularly heated debate over what led to the Goblin Rebellion of 1612.
"Malfoy, you are impossible. You dare call the Goblins actions savage and reprehensible," Hermione questioned, her fists clenched at her side as she tried to contain her frustration at Draco's extremely small-minded view of the events that took place in the rebellion.
"Savage, reprehensible, barbaric…" he drawled, before turning to her and arching an eyebrow. "Shall I continue?"
"I cannot believe that you can sit here and say that with a good conscience. What would you do if…"
"Calm down, Granger. I agree; the way in which the Goblins were treated was reprehensible, yet, that does not excuse the massacre that they reveled in under the guise of rebellion."
"Draco," Hermione said, straining to keep his composure. "Honestly. How would you react if your life was not your own? You had no home to call your own. No say in any facet of your life, not even that of the lives of your children?"
Draco opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted from the other side of the room, "I imagine that even Malfoy, here, might go savage," a hoarse voice whispered.
Forgetting their debate, Hermione sprang up from the bed and crossed the room. "Harry, oh my god, you're awake," she said, throwing herself across his chest as tears spilled from her eyes.
Harry chuckled weakly, groaning as he brushed Hermione's curls out of his mouth. "It's nice to know I was missed but I'd hate to survive Voldemort only to die suffocated beneath my best friend's hair."
Hermione smiled, wiping away the tears in her eyes. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry, it's just we were so worried," she said, biting her lip as she resisted the urge to throw herself on him again.
"I missed you too, 'Mione," Harry smiled at his friend before turning his head to the side. "Although, it looks like you've been keeping some… interesting, for lack of a better word, company. Where's Ron?"
"He's going to be livid, but his mum insisted that he and Ginny come home for Hols as they weren't allowed in to visit," Hermione paused, as she turned tentatively to Malfoy before looking back at Harry. "She didn't want them moping around. He wanted to…"
Harry's shoulders fell a little, but he continued smiling. "That's all right. You'll just have to owl him and tell him to get his sorry arse back here straight away. So what's the git…" Harry started, looking at Malfoy before trailing off as he met Hermione's warning gaze.
Glancing at Malfoy, Hermione felt somewhat afraid that he would crawl back into the shell that he'd just so recently shed, but was met instead with a surprising fire, one that clearly still viewed Harry as a rival of sorts. Sighing, Hermione launched into an explanation of coming across Draco in the final battle; surprising herself as she emphasized the atrocities he'd seen in an effort to inspire a truce of some sort between the two.
Harry looked over at Malfoy, studying him as if looking for a sign of proof before speaking, "So, I take it that you've given up on an illustrious career in murder and mayhem?"
Ignoring Hermione's huff of protest, Harry continued, "Look Malfoy, I'm truly sorry for what you've gone through, if Hermione's accounting is accurate. But I won't lie, if that's what it took for you to realize what a monster Voldemort is, I'm glad," Harry paused momentarily before adding somberly, "both for what you endured and the fact that you survived."
The atmosphere was filled with tension as the severity of Harry's words hung in the air. Hermione looked back at Draco. The urge to shield him from the ugly truth in what her friend had said was almost unbearable.
As she turned, with narrowed eyes, to scold her friend, Draco's calm voice surprised her. With a muttered, "Likewise, Potter," Draco managed to follow Harry's lead in putting seven years of hate behind them.
The morning of Yule was truly a joyous occasion. While the gift exchange was not a part of the morning's celebration, Hermione ensured that any present she might receive were sent to her room to be opened in private as no one had expected Harry's recovery or imagined that Draco would receive anything. The two Gryffindors were more than satisfied with spending the day in each other's company.
Madam Pomfrey had indicated to Hermione that Harry was welcome to stay in the cordoned off section of the hospital wing to rest as Malfoy appeared to have become acclimated to his presence. And so the two happily sat around chatting, Hermione anxious to fill him in on what he'd missed, namely, Luna finally managing to pin Ron down. Harry laughed heartily at the idea of 'Ron falling victim to the lunacy that is Lovegood,' ignoring Hermione's chastising when it came to talking about the younger witch.
Having forgotten about the other party in the room, both turned their heads sharply as a too familiar drawl sounded. "I don't know, I think it makes sense. It will be nice for Weasley to finally associate with a female he can keep mental pace with. Merlin knows he couldn't keep up with you," he smirked, as he winked at Hermione, his features gentling into a smile.
"Well, call me a Slytherin, but I do believe that Malfoy here has managed to make a joke, without malice even," Harry grinned, as he and Hermione erupted in a fit of hysteria.
Draco reclaimed his perfected smirk, though his eyes betrayed it with laughter as he replied, "The day anyone calls you Slytherin, is the day that Father Christmas invokes the spirit of Grindelwald."
The rest of the morning was spent in lighthearted banter. Draco, behaving more like himself than Hermione had seen thus far. She was truly amazed that, despite their troubled past, it took Harry to bring him out of his self-imprisonment. Far more amazing was the fact that the two seemed to be getting along fairly well.
No, they weren't behaving remotely as friends. In fact, to the untrained observer, they might have appeared to be acting just as they had at the start of term, seizing every opportunity to bait the other. But Hermione knew better; Harry's body language was relaxed, his fists unfurled- very unlike other confrontations between him and the Slytherin, where she, often times, had to physically restrain him. And Draco -, she couldn't put her finger on it but she could feel it. There was a sense of calm about him as well, one that she had never seen before; no, something had definitely changed.
Although they were unable to join the others who had remained at Hogwarts over the Holidays for the feast, the house-elves spared no detail in what was sent to the hospital wing. Hermione didn't notice Draco's momentary silence as they Apparated and Disapparated with the food and decorations, but was relieved when Harry was able to extend a verbal assault and coax a reaction out of him, pulling him back to the present.
The verbal warfare at the table extended well past the end of the meal. Hermione shook her head as she compared each offensive to one of Ron's beloved chess pieces; animated to deliver very convincing damage, but ultimately harmless.
Laughing as she opened the window to intercept an owl, she commented dryly, "Perhaps I should ask Professor McGonagall about becoming an Animagus with the form of an owl. Obviously that's what it takes to get you two to shut up."
"Who's it for, 'Mione," Harry asked, as he stood to walk over to where she was unfastening a parcel.
"It's for me," Draco replied stoically, recognizing his father's owl.
Hermione instinctively moved to cross the room towards him but froze as he stood to meet her. It was the first time, since they had returned to Hogwarts, he had left his bed for a reason other than to relieve himself. He had even taken to cleansing himself magically over showering and changing.
Too stunned to do otherwise, Hermione allowed him to retrieve the parcel from her lax grip as he crossed to the far side of the hospital wing and sat on an empty bed. Looking up at Harry as he shrugged his shoulders, Hermione mentally chastised herself. 'Did you think he would stay in bed forever,' she asked herself as she considered Harry's enquiry as to what the package could be. Contemplating which one of his dorm mates might have sent the package, Hermione turned suddenly towards Draco.
Startled by her sudden movement, Harry cast Hermione a questioning glance before following her eyes.
"What's wrong with him, 'Mione," he asked, startled by the pale wizard sitting rigidly upon the bed. He was holding a small jewelry box. "What's in the box, Malfoy?" Harry asked, walking over to stand behind him, accepting the box as Draco wordlessly held it up.
Hermione joined the two wizards on the other side of the room and peered inside of the box. Lying on a bed of red velvet was a pair of cuff links surrounded by three ribbons. The ribbons were the most delicate pieces of cloth that she'd ever seen. They were the color of emeralds- a brilliant green, with a luminescence running through them. Upon closer examination, flecks of white-gold cloth could be seen woven through the fine satin material.
Hermione reached in to straighten one of the cuff links that was turned on its side. She snatched her hand back as movement caught her eye. Slithering from one ribbon to the next was an enchanted silver serpent, no - basilisk she noted on closer examination. It was an understated accent to the ribbons, as they were quite thin themselves, but noticeable once the light hit the flecks of emerald used to demarcate their eyes.
Harry removed a cuff link after noting Hermione's hesitation. A deep green lacquer covered the golden accoutrement, small accent diamonds completing the 'M' monogram in the center. Looking down at Malfoy, realization dawning in his eyes, Harry laid his hand on the boys shoulder and spoke softly, "I'm sorry Malfoy."
At the sound of Harry's voice, Draco coughed his disbelief. "I'm quite convinced that you feel that my father's death will be a great loss to society, Potter," he drawled. He flinched as Hermione sat next to him and replaced Harry's hand with her own. "It might be hard for you to believe, but I'm not sorry to see him dead. His years spent in servitude to that lunatic, the constant pressuring that I follow in his footsteps, I resented that all of my life. But the one thing I always admired about my father was his power; his confidence and strength. To see him cower before an idiot like Fudge and openly betray all that he had ever taught me, that is when he ceased to be my father.
"Do you know, when I was first captured, I still held on to the lessons that my father had taught me through the years. I can't say that I hated him, but I was prepared to do whatever the Dark…" he started before correcting himself, "Voldemort asked of me, even if it meant killing my own father.
"It wasn't until Rookwood explained to me how inconsequential I was to Voldemort that I hated my father. He involved my mother and me in something so perverse, something that cared little of intentions or loyalties against our own will; and, in a singular act of desperation, showed how little he valued either of our lives. He had to have known it would come to this…"
"Draco, what do you mean?" Hermione enquired. "Voldemort is dead, whatever happened to your parents…"
Draco snapped at her, his eyes full of fire, "Do use your head, Granger. No battle ends cleanly. Every sympathizer with the losing side would have to be wiped from the face of the earth in order for that to happen. Augustus Rookwood survived the final battle, didn't he?"
Hermione's mouth gaped as she looked up at him. "We… we couldn't find his body. But, how did you know?"
"Because, Hermione," he began, "he is the one who sent me this present. I can smell his stench upon my mother's prized ribbons." Draco's face struggled to maintain his composure as the memory of his mother, sitting in her quarters while the house-elves braided the ribbons in amongst her fine hair, flashed before his eyes.
"But…Gods, Draco- I mean, I know they were your parents, but they betrayed him. It can't be easy, but at least it is over."
Draco fingered the locks of hair that he had removed from the box before handing it to Harry. "It's far from over," he stated softly. "This is a charm that my mother had fashioned when I was born. It was to afford me certain protections so long as it remained at the place of my birth."
Hermione tentatively reached for the charm, examining it carefully when he surrendered it to her outstretched hand. It was a cluster of about fifty hairs. They were very fine and fair, much as she imagined his hair had been at birth. Clasping the hairs together was an intricate braid of different herbal flowers, peels, and root shavings that had been bound together and preserved with magic.
As if answering the question that was running through her mind, Malfoy began to identify each ingredient that went into the charm. "Bergamot peel, to preserve the Malfoy Beauty; Chamomile, aids in maintaining ones composure; Damania, ensures that one recalls the privilege of carrying the Malfoy name."
Harry stifled a cough, but Hermione and Draco's attention remained affixed on the item. "Garlic, to ensure good health; Ginseng, because a Malfoy must always be alert and prepared; Dandelion, to ensure that the blood remains pure; all banded around a thin sprig of oak, to carry on the strength of the Malfoy line."
Harry considered the charm's meaning, noting Draco's darkening eyes. "Okay Malfoy, so your mother's charm is no longer effective as it has been removed from the Manor. But that's just a protective charm, right? So long as you're in good health and here at Hogwarts, you'll be fine. Now that Voldemort is gone, the Ministry is bound to round up the last of his followers."
"Potter," Draco responded exasperatedly, "You have no idea how far- reaching Voldemort's arm was. They will not stop until they feel that my father's sins have been atoned for, not until the last of his seed has fallen."
Hermione shook her head, "No Draco, Harry's right," she countered, passing the lock of hair back to Draco. "You'll be safe here until graduation, at least. And, in all likelihood, the last of the Death Eaters will be rounded up by then."
Draco silently nodded, not wishing to fight the calculable optimism of the two Gryffindors. Though he willed his face to relax and convey his acceptance of their reasoning, his eyes remained dark as Rookwood's words resonated in his mind, the sins of the father.
Review Responses:
Artemis1860: ask and ye shall receive :) Chapters 5 and 6 are out to beta now, so hopefully I will have them back in a couple of days so I can keep posting every other day or so.... Again, glad that you enjoyed.
TigerLilly1889: Glad that you're enjoying it. Here's your update :)
Moon-n-Universe-Goddess: So glad that you like it. Actually the entire story is written, I'm just having the end parts beta'ed now.
TheManWhoLetTheBoyLive: Glad that you're enjoying it. I am going to try and update this soon. It's all been written, I'm just having the later chapters beta'ed now.