Authors Note: The reason this is so late, is that I have been suffering from writer's block and apologise in advance if this chapter isn't up to scratch. As usual, the normal disclaimer applies and please review to let me know what you think of the chapter.
Chapter eleven
The Marauder's Map lay on the desk in front of Hermione, the parchment yellow with age. She stared down at it, and once again marvelled at the brainpower that must have gone into creating it. Her eyes scanned the map and she smiled as she saw the tiny ink dots labelled Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in the library. They had been there for the better part of the evening and Hermione knew that both boys would be desperately trying to cram some more knowledge before bedtime. The NEWTs were now only two weeks away and the tension amongst the seventh years was almost palpable. Her eyes skimmed the map once more and spotted the dot for which she had been looking. Draco Malfoy too, was in the library and judging from the distance between himself and Ron and Harry, sitting not too far away from them.
The sound of a knock on her door made Hermione look up, and frowning slightly, she hastily wiped the map and put it away, before getting up and going over to the door. Pulling it open, she was not a little surprised to see Professor McGonagall looking back at her, her face looking strained while her lips were compressed together in an expression Hermione could only describe as disapproving.
"Professor," Hermione spluttered, while wondering frantically what had brought her Head of House to seek her out at this time of the evening, "what can I—?"
"Professor Dumbledore would like a word with you," the bespectacled witch interrupted Hermione, "it is urgent, so I have been asked to take you to his office right away." There was a pause in which the woman Hermione had come to think of as almost a mother figure stared down at her, an unreadable look in her eyes.
Panic flooded Hermione as she contemplated Professor McGonagall's words. What had she done to deserve such an urgent summons from the Headmaster? Was it her parents? Had they been hurt in some way? Had Voldemort—? She cut herself off before this thought could unfold in her mind – no, she would not panic needlessly, she wouldn't! Straightening her shoulders she nodded mutely, before warding her door and following the upright figure of Professor McGonagall down the spiral staircase and out of Gryffindor tower. Students shot Hermione sympathetic looks as she went past but none dared intercept her; they were only too aware of the reception they would get from their Head of House if they dared question Hermione as to her destination.
The corridor was silent as they walked along; only the sound of their footsteps could be heard echoing off the walls and adding to Hermione's feeling of foreboding. For some reason, she couldn't find her voice and although she opened her mouth several times to ask why she was being summoned to Dumbledore's office, her voice wouldn't cooperate. By the time they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the spiral staircase leading to the heads office, Hermione was feeling sick with fear. She clutched the banister as they rode upwards, willing her stomach to stay in its rightful place and not dance a jig as it was presently doing.
Finally after what felt like years, Professor McGonagall stepped off the staircase and pushed open the door leading to Professor Dumbledore's office. Taking a deep and much needed breath, Hermione followed her in and the heavy door swung shut behind them with an ominous sounding click.
"Here she is," Professor McGonagall said, stepping aside and allowing Hermione a view of the room's occupants, "I trust you won't keep her long – it is, after all, Miss Granger's turn for patrol duty this evening."
"Never fear," came the serene reply. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the window gazing thoughtfully at the two women, "This shouldn't take too long. I'm sure we'll be finished in time for the start of Hermione's rounds."
"Right," said a thoroughly put out Professor McGonagall, "I'll leave you to it then." Turning she swept past Hermione and out of the room without a backward glance.
"Oh dear," sighed Dumbledore, "another teacher whom I have annoyed – I seem to be making a habit of that these days. But enough of this, take a seat."
Intrigued, Hermione sat down facing the desk and after a moment, Dumbledore came and sat opposite her. Looking at his seemingly ageless face, Hermione was dismayed to see lines of fatigue round his mouth she was sure hadn't been there at the start of the year. His eyes too, seemed to be more sombre – the light in them dimmed as he surveyed her.
"So my dear, how are you?" he asked looking directly into her eyes.
Caught off guard by his question, Hermione stared at the old man, and not for the first time wondered at the state of his sanity. Then shrugging, she answered, "Err, I'm fine Professor."
There was a pause in which both parties stared into the faces of the other, each trying to decipher the goings on in the mind of the other. Finally Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and said, "I am sure you are wondering why I have asked you here this evening." At Hermione's nod, he went on, "Well, the truth of the matter is that I need your help – no correction, the Order needs your help."
Hermione leaned forward in her chair, all worry and trepidation about the meeting forgotten. "My help, Professor? But… how can I help you?"
To her surprise, her questions were met with a sigh from the wizard opposite her and for a moment he said nothing but gazed out of the window. Then pulling his mind back from wherever it had wandered off to, he returned Hermione's look and said, "I need you to be keep watch on someone."
Hermione liked to believe that she was not easily wrong-footed. Her coolness and calm way of assessing situations had helped her through many difficult situations; situations like the scrapes she, Harry, and Ron had got themselves into throughout their years at the school; situations like her time at the Brocklehurst and Malfoy Manors. Now, however, she was completely taken aback, and stared at the Headmaster, her mouth slightly agape. She had questioned his sanity many times before, but she was sure that now finally, he had lost it.
Dumbledore, rather than being abashed at her open mouthed astonishment, smiled and carried on, "You may well look shocked but there it is – we need you to work undercover for us." As Hermione continued to gape at him, the old man sighed and said, "I will put you in the picture – I think that is best at this stage." He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, making himself comfortable.
"During the first few weeks of this term – I forget precisely when," he began, "Quentin and I were talking and he mentioned that you had visited the Malfoy family during the holidays. Naturally, he didn't reveal too much as you had talked to him in confidence, but he did indicate that the Malfoys had wanted to talk to you alone. I remember during the holidays Miss Weasley asked Minerva to write a note to you at the Brocklehursts' home requesting you to return to Hogwarts. She didn't elaborate on her reasons for wanting this letter written, but I believe she said something about you wanting to return, though you did not wish to offend your hosts."
Hermione nodded in confirmation, "Well yes, but it didn't work," she muttered staring down at her hands clasped in her lap.
"Didn't work?" Dumbledore questioned, "What didn't work?"
Looking up, Hermione met his eyes as they scrutinised her set face. "Hermione, was that letter intended as a means to get you away from the Brocklehursts before your visit to the Malfoys?"
"Yes, but as I told you, it didn't work. Emily Brocklehurst just shrugged it off and said that someone would've come to collect me if I had been needed that urgently!"
"Hmm yes, a fair point," mused Dumbledore, "but getting back to our previous discussion, why didn't you want to go to the Malfoys' home?"
There was a pause as Hermione wondered what to tell him; should she tell him the truth? If she did tell him, would he believe her? And what if he did? What would happen then? She knew the Malfoys to be powerful, and if it ever got out that she had told Dumbledore of what they were trying to do— Hermione shuddered. It was not so much that she didn't want to contemplate what they would do to her, but to those who could not defend themselves, such as her parents.
Finally it was Dumbledore who broke the now increasingly uncomfortable silence by saying quietly, "I understand that this must be difficult for you, so before you tell me your part of the story, I will continue with my own side of it." Once more he shifted in his chair, looking for comfort before proceeding; "As I was saying, Quentin alerted me to the Malfoys' interest in you so I began to do some research of my own. I know that the Brocklehursts were with you the evening you went to the Malfoy Manor, and naturally I wondered how the Malfoys had managed to get you alone. The answer to this problem presented itself in the form of Mandy Brocklehurst, who reported to Madam Pomfrey a few days ago, complaining of certain female related problems."
He broke off here and for the first time since he had started speaking, looked away. Clearly, "female problems" as he termed them, were not something he was comfortable with. Hermione had to hide a smile at his discomfort, and after a moment he went on.
"…Anyway, as I was saying, Madam Pomfrey ran some tests to try and identify the cause of Miss Brocklehurst's little problem, but could find nothing wrong. Finally, as a last resort, she did a muggle blood test and there it was; the Minhabulous potion – traces of which were evident in Miss Brocklehurst's blood."
"The what potion?" Hermione asked, confused.
"The Minhabulous potion – you won't have heard of it as it is a Class A non-tradable potion and therefore strictly controlled by the ministry." He broke off and sighed once more. Distractedly, he ran a hand through his long hair and Hermione was once again struck at how old he seemed to look. The candlelight picked out the white of his hair and beard making him appear frail and his skin papery white.
"Ah yes… where was I," he resumed, "Yes, the potion; well, this potion has the effect of putting the drinker to sleep for a specified amount of time depending on the dose of potion given. The truly remarkable and dangerous thing, however, is that when the drinker wakes up, their perception of time has been altered, so they believe that no time has elapsed since their last memory."
"But surely they'd realise that they've been unconscious – I mean they may not remember it, but there would be other signs – slight grogginess, a dry mouth and stuff." Hermione contradicted, passages from a Medi-wizardry textbook she had borrowed from the library, coming to mind.
"Alas, the potion ensures there are no such signs, hence it is illegal. I need not go into the potential uses of such a potion."
"No," Hermione said faintly, the memory of that night looming before her making her shiver involuntarily.
"Hermione," Dumbledore said gently, "what happened? I have been able to piece together the rough outline of the evening's events, but have no specific details."
Hermione took a deep breath; she knew it was now time to tell him all – well, almost all – that had transpired that night at the Malfoy home. Haltingly, she outlined the evening's events, all the while keeping her gaze fixed on the desk top between them. It seemed easier to talk if she wasn't looking him in the face. Finally, she was finished and sat back, having skated over the scene in the library, hoping he wouldn't notice.
There was a silence in which Dumbledore looked intently at Hermione, and then quietly he said, "I'm not surprised – it may shock you, but you got off lightly that night. It is unlike Lucius Malfoy to be so… shall we say, polite. He normally prefers to do things in a less subtle way – this must really mean something to him! I assume that you have worked out the reason for the Malfoys' change in attitude towards you?"
"Err well, I think so, that is, I guessed…I mean…."
Dumbledore smiled and then said casually, "Yes, Kurbs-Blood is becoming a real problem." He sighed deeply and carried on, "Alas, the worst of it is that there is no immediate cure for the disease."
"Apart from the one the Malfoys have come up with!" Hermione blurted before she could stop herself, "Trust them to come up with something that requires others to go out of their way just to save their precious bloodline."
Choosing not to comment on this statement, Dumbledore began to wind the end of his beard round his finger. Eventually he said, "This, Hermione, leads me back to the reason I called you here tonight." He leaned forward, his eyes glittering, "You could do a lot to help our cause by befriending Draco Malfoy, and in doing so, winning Lucius' approval. You are in no danger, for Lucius is keen to keep you alive and happy – it suits his purpose to do so. It wouldn't be difficult for you to keep an eye on the comings and goings in Malfoy Manor – a few overnight stays and…" he gave an eloquent shrug.
Hermione had to bite back her smile, though the corners of her mouth were twitching, she said, "But Professor, there's one serious flaw to this plan; I don't know Draco Malfoy that well – won't it look suspicious if I suddenly start being all chummy with him? I mean he isn't stupid – he'd soon catch on. Anyway," she scowled now," I don't like Lucius or Narcissa much, and I doubt I'll pick up anything useful if ever I go back to that manor! They'll be too careful to ensure I don't see anything I am not meant to see – it won't work!"
"Sometimes, in order to understand how the other side works, it is necessary to think like them." Dumbledore said quietly, "It teaches you a lot about the kinds of strategy they may employ when making plans and so on. It is a cardinal rule of chess as well; work out your opponent's strategy and you will be able to predict their next move – ask Mr Weasley, I am sure he'll explain what I mean."
He got up and went over to the window as he spoke. Gazing out at the rapidly darkening sky, he carried on in a serious voice, "You are a Lestintia and therefore much more powerful than any of the Malfoys or any other Death Eaters – if it came down to it, defending yourself wouldn't be a problem. Truly, I don't think it would ever come to this – your own choice of friends has taught you a lot that other young ladies of your age don't know – the art of wandering around without getting caught for instance," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "Coupled with this is Lucius' desire to keep you alive and well. Surely he'll see to it that you come to no harm."
Hermione could feel a blush staining her cheeks, and swiftly bent her head in an effort to avoid Dumbledore's piercing stare. "Hermione," Dumbledore said with an urgent note in his voice, "by befriending Draco Malfoy and getting him to trust you, you are not only helping the Order, you may be also saving an innocent young man from the Dark! Think about that! As yet, Draco hasn't pledged his loyalty either way, and I know for a fact that he doesn't think much of Voldemort or his ideals. If given the right encouragement, I suspect he might even consider sympathising with our side if he learns to trust you."
"Him, trust me?" she let out a snort to rival those of Ron when in a sarcastic mood, "Professor, this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about! You know, the arrogant Slytherin who thinks money and bloodlines can buy him the world? The same Draco Malfoy who's done his utmost to make mine, Ron, and Harry's lives hell throughout our time at Hogwarts?"
"You really think so?" The question was mild, but it had the effect of making Hermione look up into the aged face of the Headmaster, leaning against the window, his body erect as though prepared to do battle, "Is that your true opinion of Draco Malfoy, Hermione?"
"Well," Hermione hedged, "well what else do you expect it to be? I mean…" she trailed off, her certainty draining away to be replaced by confusion. What did she think of Draco Malfoy – hell, what did she even know of the boy? She was honest enough to think that two years ago, the description she had just given would have described his attitude down to a T, but now? Now, she acknowledged, he had changed, he wasn't so arrogant – no, she corrected herself; he was still arrogant, but something had indeed changed. He hadn't call her "mudblood" for at least a year; still, it was something more than this that had changed about him, but she could not for the life of her, put it into words.
Pulling herself together, Hermione tried once more to explain the gulf that existed between her and Malfoy, "You see, Professor, we are too different," she began, "I mean our attitudes, backgrounds and practically everything about us are different. Malfoy could never trust or open up to me simply because we think too differently and there is simply too much bad blood between us." Hermione ended her explanation, and sat back, silently congratulating herself.
Dumbledore regarded her thoughtfully for a moment then keeping his voice bland, he said, "Everything you say is very true – there's no denying this. However, there's very little that goes on in this school that escapes my knowledge," he gave a slight smile, "put it down to my inquisitive nature if you like, but I like to keep an eye on our more, er, unique students. Other staff members are also of a similar mind, so between us, we have been keeping a close watch on yourself and Mr. Malfoy, and so we are aware of his attempts at friendship – swapping prefect duties with other prefects so his duties can coincide with yours, invading the table you have marked out as your own in the library…oh, the list is endless! What, however, does fascinate us all," pushing himself away from the window, he leaned towards her his eyes twinkling, "is how you keep managing to avoid him!"
It took all of Hermione's resolve not to throw something at the indomitable old man – damn him and all his observant staff! It would serve him right to keep him guessing; she wasn't going to tell him about the map! Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, she took a deep breath and turned her mind once more to the problems facing her. The sound of Dumbledore's voice pulled her from her less than charitable thoughts and glancing at him, she saw the laughter had left his face to be replaced by the same look he had worn when she had entered his office not half an hour ago.
"Hermione, none of us can help who we are and who our families are. Draco Malfoy cannot help his parentage, or the ideals that have been drummed into him since childhood. He arrived at Hogwarts not understanding the beliefs he preached and preaching them simply because he knew no different. It has only been recently that he has truly begun to understand and question those beliefs. You may not realise it or want to do so, but he has made a concerted effort over the last year or so to get on with yourself in particular – why else do you think he gave up the use of the word "mudblood"? And this was long before Lucius showed any interest in you. To add to this, he has made various efforts last year alone to be paired up with you in class projects and from what I deduced, it wasn't to trade insults either."
Hermione had to marvel at the man; was there nothing about the students under his care that he didn't know? It was true that Malfoy and she had been paired up for quite a few class projects during their sixth year and although insults had often been exchanged, she had to admit that seven times out of ten, it had been she who had started the fights and not Malfoy.
"That was coincidence," she defended, "pure coincidence and nothing more. Anyway, he still uses every excuse he can to start fights with Harry and Ron!"
"There're some things that cannot be changed over night. The rivalry between the Malfoys and the Weasleys is centuries old, and I suspect that he and Mr Potter will never see eye to eye; it's… what do the muggles call it? A… personality clash?" At Hermione's affirmative nod, he went on, "Putting all that aside, he still made the effort to try and bridge the gap between him and yourself. This, in itself was probably the most controversial thing he could have done, and this is what makes me think that he would trust you given the right encouragement. Hermione, do not hold Draco's upbringing against him. Do what none of your peers refuse to do – give him a chance!"
Hermione was silent, her shoulders bowed; she was honest enough to acknowledge that everything Dumbledore had so painstakingly pointed out was true. Being a believer in equal rights, she had sometimes wondered if Draco Malfoy was the product of a rigid and dictatorial environment. By refusing to befriend and help him, she would be no better than the Malfoys themselves, blinded by her own prejudices and unwilling to accept change due to her own insecurities – was she really that weak?
This thought had the effect of making her sit up and straighten her shoulders. No, she was not weak, and no, she would never sink to the level of the likes of Lucius Malfoy – never! Dumbledore was right, Draco Malfoy's parentage could not be held against him and surely it was worth befriending him, if it meant one less Death Eater to kill and torture innocent people! 'Besides,' her mind whispered, 'you never know…' Clamping firmly down on this thought, Hermione turned her attention once more to Dumbledore's main request.
Within her a battle raged – on the one hand, she detested the mere thought of sneaking around and spying, for in essence that was what Dumbledore was asking her to do; it went against everything she had ever been brought up to believe in, but at the same time, if she could help the Order and maybe stop Draco Malfoy from going over to the dark side – surely that was worth the price of a few scruples?
She began to twist the fabric of her robes between nervous fingers, as her conscience battled with itself.
"What exactly would I be required to do?" she finally asked, hoping fervently the answer would help her come to a decision.
"Oh nothing much," came the nonchalant reply. As he spoke, Dumbledore strolled back to the desk, seating himself behind it. "You would simply be required to keep an eye of the Malfoys' social engagements, and if you are feeling up to it, take an inventory of their library."
Hermione stared at his shadowy profile in the dim light of the room. "An inventory?" she asked, intrigued, "how would my taking an inventory of the books in the Malfoy library help the Order?"
"You have a lot to learn my dear," Dumbledore said, looking gravely at her over his half-moon spectacles, "the smallest things can make the biggest differences. The Malfoys own copies of some of the rarest books in the world – well, I cannot say anymore than this, but remember: sometimes the most lethal weapons are those which are right in front of you, but because of their ability to blend into the background, are never even suspected."
Hermione didn't even attempt to understand what he meant by these cryptic words, but knew what she would do. Dumbledore was right, if someone had to keep an eye on the Malfoys, then she was the best choice. Her magical abilities, not to mention being an Animagus - a fact of which Dumbledore was not aware, would stand her in good stead, and may be the difference between life and death if anything were to go wrong with their plans. Taking a steadying breath she finally nodded, "OK I'll do it!"
XoXoXoXo
"The first thing I'm going to do when these damned exams are over, is to burn all these bloody text books!" Ron exclaimed, leaning back in his chair and running agitated fingers through his hair. His face, like that of Harry, was pale, and both boys had dark shadows beneath their eyes.
"For once," Hermione said, looking up from her own pile of books, "I totally sympathise with you! All this stress's getting to me. I'll be relieved when the exams are over and we don't have to worry about them any more."
"Yeah," Harry said, his eyes flicking to the window through which they could just make out the setting sun, "what really gets me is the tension. I don't mind the studying as much – you get used to that after seven years of it. No, it's the build up to the exams I always hate – you know, everyone on edge and snapping at each other or the girls having hysterics – that kind of stuff."
"Hmmm," Ron agreed, "couldn't've put it better myself mate. Oh well, we have a week to put up with it and then the NEWTs will start and it'll be the beginning of the end!" He grinned at the other two, and Hermione, in spite of herself, returned his grin.
"Well," she said, starting to pack up, "as much as I'd like to continue this conversation, I must be off." At Harry's questioning look, she went on, "Hannah asked me to swap patrol duty with her tonight. Since I'm up to date with my revision, I agreed."
At these words, Ron, whose gaze had been drawn to the window, swivelled round to look at her a frown creasing his brow. "But, you can't…. I mean, Malfoy's the other person on duty tonight!"
"Ron, I know that." Hermione said, standing up and preparing to leave the quiet library. Most students had already left and Madam Pince was busy reshelving used books. She looked irritated and Hermione knew she had spent most of the evening snapping at unsuspecting students.
Ron had clearly not finished what he was saying, and jumping to his feet he said, "But I thought you didn't want to have patrol duty with him – that's what you told us at the start of the term, remember? Why the sudden change?"
"Hannah needed someone to swap with her and as none of the others could, I volunteered." she replied. Trust Ron to question her like a protective older brother, "It's as simple as that. Now I really have to go. You two had best leave yourselves before Madam Pince throws you out!" So saying, Hermione turned and quickly hurried from the library before the boys could detain her. She didn't feel in the mood for an argument – the combination of stress and the warmth of the day had robbed her of most of her energy.
Glancing at her watch, she saw she just had enough time to drop off her bag, before it was time to start the evening's rounds. Making her way to Gryffindor Tower, she pondered Ron's words. It was true that she had avoided patrolling with Draco Malfoy as much as possible throughout the term, but now she needed to spend some time with him. It had been over two weeks since she had had a private conversation with him, and she could sense that he was losing patience. She couldn't afford to push him away too much - he was quite capable of embroiling them in a similar scene such as that which had taken place between them in the Malfoy library during the Easter holidays. Quickly putting that particular scene out of her mind, Hermione didn't even want to consider how Harry and Ron would acknowledge that. Steeling herself, she decided that it was high time she started to put Dumbledore's request into action, and she couldn't do that by continually avoiding Malfoy.
Dropping off her bag in her room, she hurried down to the entrance hall where Malfoy would be waiting. The castle was quiet as she walked – even the portraits on the walls seemed subdued – maybe the heat of the day combined with the stress level of the castle's inhabitants had affected them too? As she hurried down the marble staircase, she spied a figure lounging against the opposite wall tapping an impatient foot as he stared ahead of him. The sound of her footsteps made him turn and look up the stairs, the torchlight picking out his silvery hair.
"Hermione? What are you doing here?" Malfoy questioned, taking a few steps towards her, "I thought you'd be tucked away in your room studying."
Hermione couldn't help noticing the slight scowl that accompanied the last few words. Smiling brightly she said, "Sorry to disappoint, but you're stuck with me for the next hour or so as we do the rounds."
"But I thought that Abbot…"
"She couldn't make it tonight, so I swapped with her. Anyway, I haven't seen you for ages," she framed a shrug, "so thought I'd annoy you with my company." She gave another brittle smile as she spoke, and hoped he wouldn't notice her nervousness.
"Nice to know that you think of me sometimes," he grumbled, leading the way through the front doors out into the grounds, "I rather got the impression that you'd reneged on our little bargain – remember?"
Hermione felt her stomach contract at these words, and knew she had been right to swap duties with Hannah. She could tell by his tone that Malfoy was in a peevish mood and she knew that she would have to placate him, and soon! Sometimes he could be so childish!
She sighed and then said, "No actually, you're wrong – I hadn't forgotten about you or our friendship. It's just that things sort of got on top of me and well…" she trailed off, hoping her pause would do the rest.
He didn't reply as they walked out into the grounds. The night breeze felt cool on Hermione's hot face and she breathed deeply, taking in lungfuls of the fragrant refreshing night air. Above them a crescent moon could be seen glowing in the sky, while the sound of a lone nightingale's singing could be heard somewhere in the distance.
"It's so peaceful out here," Hermione murmured, as they skirted the motionless Whomping Willow on their way to check the gates.
"Hmm…very," Malfoy said from beside her, his voice noncommittal. Clearly, his thoughts were not with the beauty of their surroundings. To prove this, he asked, "So, what was so important you couldn't spare a few minutes to talk to me during the past few weeks?"
Hermione felt a slight twinge of guilt at these words and swallowed. 'How does he do it?' she wondered, 'How does he oh-so-effortlessly make me feel guilty for nothing at all?' She sighed; it was once more time to put her acting abilities to the test. Hermione shrugged, not looking at him, but focusing her gaze on the lake, which they were now skirting. "Well," she hedged, "it's been a combination of things really. Firstly our revision workload—" another shrug, "—on its own, that wouldn't have been too much of a problem, but then…" she bit her lip, this was proving harder than she had first envisaged.
"Then?" questioned Malfoy, stopping and taking her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. She looked up into the planes and angles of his face and noted with a feeling of both relief and trepidation, as he smiled down at her, a warm look in his grey eyes. "Hermione, what's happened? Is everything ok?" As he spoke he raised his right hand cupping her cheek. His skin felt warm and slightly rough to her soft skin. It took all of Hermione's will power not to lean into his touch, but to stand motionless, returning his gaze impassively.
"It is now," she replied quietly, whilst silently cursing the lump that had crept into her throat.
"Now? What was wrong before?" He took a step closer, so there were barely two inches separating them. At the same time, he began caressing her cheekbone with his thumb, causing unwelcome sensations to shoot up and down her nerves. 'This isn't fair,' Hermione thought, as she tried to step back away from him, but her legs refused to move. She knew she was out of her depth here and cursed Dumbledore and his ideas – if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be standing here fighting this battle with her treacherous body which seemed to have severed all connections with her brain.
Pulling her wits about her, she said in what she hoped was a steady voice, "Well, just after the last time we spoke, Mum wrote to tell me that Dad became ill with a dose of malaria. Dumbledore wouldn't let me go and see him, what with the NEWTs coming up and so on..." It was true that her father had been ill with malaria, but as the bout had lasted for no longer than a week, Hermione hadn't been too worried. Her father had picked the disease up a few years back while visiting India and it had, as was often the case, recurred now and then. Malfoy, however, didn't need to know this, and she went on, "So, as you can imagine, I was pretty worried about that as well and…" she hesitated, wondering whether to include the little spat she, Ron and Harry had had last week in the Gryffindor Common room lasting all of an hour. Then deciding she would, she went on, "…and just to make things even worse, Ron, Harry, and I had a quarrel last week and things haven't been the same since. I didn't particularly feel like company, what with everything going on, so I've kept to my room as much as possible."
As she had hoped, Malfoy took the proffered bait and in an instant, his whole face lit up, "You, Weasley, and Potter argued? When and what about?"
At Hermione's raised brow, he swiftly masked his expression, and carried on, forcing a note of concern into his voice, "I mean that's really too bad, you being such good friends and stuff, but well…" his mouth formed into a slight smirk, "if only I'd known!" Putting his free arm round her shoulders, he pressed her to him, while with the hand cupping her cheek, drew her head down onto his shoulder.
"Oh it's nothing much, "she prevaricated, "just tension getting the better of us, I suppose. We're back on speaking terms now, but…."
"Things aren't the way they were?" he supplied helpfully, and she nodded her head resting on his shoulder.
So far, Hermione thought, things were going according to plan – well maybe not the way he was holding her, but his mind had been diverted. He seemed to have forgotten about his earlier anger against her, but was now revelling in the thought that she Harry and Ron had argued. Now if she could only extricate herself without any fuss, she would consider the evening to have been a success.
She carried on, "I must admit I'm really worried…. I mean we'll be leaving school soon and will each go our separate ways. I'd hate this trivial quarrel to come between us after such a long-standing friendship."
To Hermione's alarm, Malfoy hugged her closer to him, his arms tight around her. "Sometimes," he said gently while pressing his face into her hair, "these things happen and we must accept it. I know the three of you've been friends for almost seven years now, but people grow up Hermione, and in doing so, can grow apart. Maybe this argument or whatever it was, was a manifestation of these differences. What I find hard to understand however, is why you didn't come to me when all this was going on in the first place. Surely that's what friends are for?"
Hermione felt her heart sink; she hadn't bargained for this. Thinking quickly she said, "Well, I felt miserable and didn't want to inflict myself on others – after all, that would hardly be fair."
"Friends, as I understand it, are there for one through thick and thin," he countered firmly.
Hermione could think of no reply to this so she stayed silent. An unwelcome feeling of guilt was taking hold of her. She wasn't used to telling lies, and what was worse, he seemed to accept what she had said at face value. Why could he not have questioned her further or created a scene? That way, she would not be feeling guilty for deliberately lying to him.
Extricating herself, she turned away, and began to walk back towards the castle with Malfoy following her. "Come on," she said over her shoulder, "we still have the rest of the castle to check." A grunt was all the reply she got, and she felt relief flood her. Malfoy seemed to be deep in thought, and Hermione, not wanting to tell any more lies, was contented to let the silence settle between them.
As they once more entered the castle, she automatically glanced round, but the entrance hall was empty. They walked in silence down the dungeon steps, past the potions laboratories and the Slytherin Common Room.
"It looks as though everyone's gone to bed early," Malfoy said holding his lit wand high above their heads.
"Probably the strain of the exams," Hermione answered, "they seem to have crept up on us this term. It only feels like yesterday the term started and now our Hogwarts days are almost over."
"Very true," he commented and they lapsed into silence as they completed their walk round the lower floors of the castle. To Hermione's relief, all was deserted – she didn't feel up to reprimanding teenagers this evening.
"Thank God," Hermione breathed, as they emerged back into the entrance hall, "Now just the upper floors and then to bed."
"Tired?" Malfoy queried, standing aside for her to mount the marble staircase before him.
"Yeah, I feel drained – I suspect the weather and general stress levels are mostly responsible for it."
"I was thinking," he said as they began to walk down the first floor corridor, "after Hogwarts, what're your plans?"
"Stanwick," Hermione replied, peering into classrooms as they passed, "I've accepted a place there and will be starting in October – you?"
"I'm taking a combined degree in Charms and Potions at Oxford," he told her and Hermione noticed the note of pride in his voice.
She turned in the dim light of the corridor to stare at him, surprise written all over her face. "I didn't realise you wanted to carry on studying!" she exclaimed, "I got the impression from your frequent grumblings in class that you couldn't wait to get away from Hogwarts and studying."
His brows rose slightly and he shrugged, "Ah, that'll teach you to assume when you don't know all the facts then, won't it? You are right about one thing though; I can't wait to get away from Hogwarts. There's more than one reason of course, although I must say it'll be nice to come top of the class for once!" he grinned at her bemused expression, "no know-it-all to beat me in every subject – I can't wait!" The atmosphere between them lightened and Hermione felt herself relax slightly.
Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, Hermione smiled in return, "It does your ego good to have to work for your grades, you know – it stops you from becoming too big headed. Anyway, my Dad says a bit of healthy competition does no one any harm."
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I know very little about your family – you never talk about them, why?"
"No reason," Hermione answered, climbing a rickety staircase to the second floor, "we get on very well, but as they don't really understand this world, I've almost disassociated myself from them – oh, not in a bad way," she continued correctly interpreting his raised eyebrow, "it's just that we seem to have come to an unspoken agreement that they'll let me go my own way in this world. They're always there if ever I need help or someone to talk to, but over the years, the Weasleys… well, the Weasleys have sort of taken over my parents' role in the wizarding world."
"The Weasleys? What? They've sort of adopted you? Is that what you're saying?"
Hermione chewed on her lip in thought and then said, "That's one way of putting it. Mr and Mrs Weasley have, well, I suppose they've sort of guided me in the wizarding world – I mean my own parents, not understanding magic and stuff, can't really, so the Weasleys have taken me under their wing so to speak."
"Hmm, I see," he murmured, walking ahead of her. They once again lapsed into silence, each busy with their own thoughts.
"It can't be easy being a part of two different worlds," he continued, "I mean; don't you ever feel as though… well, as though you don't belong in your parents' world any more?"
"Yes and no," she replied thoughtfully. "It's the world in which I grew up, so I do understand it, but at the same time, the wizarding world is the one in which I now spend most of my time, so it's a difficult question."
"Hmm, but how do your parents feel about you spending most of your time in a world they're not part of?"
Hermione sighed, not looking at him. Choosing her words with care, she explained, "Well, at first, it was a novelty to them – it was something different. They were very interested in Hogwarts and magic, but as time went on, the novelty wore off. They began to feel not in touch with my reality… And now—" she shrugged, "—now, we just agree to be different, if you know what I mean."
To Hermione's relief, he didn't comment. Instead, he shot her a piercing look and changed the subject as they mounted the stairs to the next floor. "It'll be nice to get away from Hogwarts, I mean all the house rivalries and all that – it gets too much after a while, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I suppose so," she replied noncommittally, "I'll really miss Hogwarts though – the friendly atmosphere, sitting round the fire in the Gryffindor common room late at night talking, and loads of other stuff. I've made some very close friends thanks to Hogwarts, and'll be sorry to leave its protective walls."
There was a pause, and then he said quietly, "You're lucky. Some of us haven't been quite so fortunate."
Feeling slightly awkward, Hermione put her hand on his arm bringing him to a stop, "What do you mean?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her common sense.
He looked down at her for a long moment, and then drew her against him once more, resting his face on her hair. "Slytherin isn't what you could call a friendly house – it has been moulded to become what others want it to be. You don't build up friendships with people in Slytherin – it's more a case of survival of the fittest – plus it's housed in the dungeons, where it's devilishly cold!" he ended with a wry smile.
"But surely—" Hermione began to protest, but was abruptly cut off by him.
"Tell me something," he said harshly, stepping away from her and taking her chin in his hand, "what's the real reason you've been avoiding me this term?"
Hermione blinked at the sudden change of subject, shock written all over her pale face. She wondered how she had let herself be lulled into this false sense of security. No matter, now she was paying the price.
Not giving her time to answer his question, Malfoy continued, "I'll tell you, shall I?" He scowled down at her and carried on, "Although you're perfectly happy to preach about 'equal rights' and 'equality' to all, it's a totally different story when it comes to practicing what you preach. My parents and I apologised to you for our treatment of you during the Easter holidays in the hope that you'd give us a chance to make amends for our past behaviour. But when we come back to Hogwarts, what happens? Things haven't changed at all where you and I are concerned – in fact, you're even more determined than ever to avoid me! Your excuse about your rough time this term what with your father being ill and your quarrel with Potter and Weasley is just that – an excuse. It still doesn't account for the fact that you've avoided me continuously all term!"
"No," Hermione stuttered, horrified and slightly afraid of this aggressive side to him, "No, that isn't true…"
"Yes, it is," he sighed, seemingly deflated. "And what's more, we both know it." Malfoy's face hardened and he continued, "I'm running out of patience with you, Hermione. I was perfectly prepared to be nice and become friends with you; and as a matter of fact, I still am. What I cannot accept, however, is your refusal to at least give me a chance! You know, in your own way, you're just as prejudiced and narrow minded as those people you shun, people like my father."
Hermione was conscious of her quickened breathing and tried valiantly to pull herself together. She took a step away from him, jerking her chin from his hand. "I am not narrow-minded," she contradicted in a tight voice," and neither do I hold prejudices against others."
"Oh?" he challenged, lifting an eyebrow, "Really? From your behaviour so far, I wouldn't have guessed that you were so liberal minded."
"Well I am," she spat out, all the time dimly aware of the hole she was digging herself into, but unable to stop herself, "I see everyone as being equal, unlike some I could mention. I don't judge others according to bloodline, or social standing or wealth or any other condition you may care to mention!"
"Prove it!"
Those two fatalistic words made her blink owlishly at him. "What?" she questioned, staring at his shadowy face in the dim light given off by the flickering torches above them.
"Prove it," he repeated, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms across his chest, "Anyone can stand there and preach sentiments – I dare say even Peeves could manage that! So prove you mean what you say. After all, how else will you be believed?" he taunted, smiling.
It wasn't often that Hermione lost her temper – she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had allowed pride to overcome her naturally cautious nature, and this was without doubt one of these times. She glared back at him, and even as she opened her mouth to accept the challenge, every one of her instincts screamed at her to ignore him and walk away. She wanted to obey those instincts, but she couldn't. He had done the one thing guaranteed to make her blood boil in questioning her integrity.
"OK," she said in a forcedly calm voice. "You're on. I'll prove to you that I don't hold any prejudices against anyone!"
"Fine," he replied smirking, "in that case, you won't mind spending time with me and my parents during the summer break then, will you? We plan to spend time at our villa in the South of France – care to join us?"
Hermione hesitated and as she did so, rationality finally asserted itself in her mind. At his quiet mocking laugh however, her head snapped up, and she once more glared at him before gritting out, "If my parents haven't booked a holiday already, I'd love to join you."
XoXoXoXo
The chatter in the Great Hall seemed to engulf Hermione as she stared at the letter clutched tightly in her hand. Narcissa's elegant script danced before her eyes as she tried to make sense of the neatly written words.
"Dear Hermione,
I hope you are well, and that your studies are proceeding excellently. Now that the exams are drawing near, I don't doubt that you are starting to feel the tension the exams always seem to cause. I remember when I was your age, the tension amongst us students was almost unbearable. I can't tell you how relieved I was when the exams were finally over.
I am writing to tell you how pleased both Lucius and I were at the news that you will be spending part of your summer with us. Imagine our surprise and delight when we got Draco's letter informing us that you hope to spend time together with us during the summer before embarking on your chosen career path.
As you know, I have never agreed with the rivalry that goes on between the Houses at Hogwarts, and therefore, I take great pleasure in the fact that the two of you have put this ridiculous rivalry aside to become good friends. Frankly, there is no telling how much more your friendship could become given time. I have always felt that you both are eminently suited for each other, but thanks to the division at Hogwarts, any friendship between you has always been curtailed.
I must say I am looking forward to spending some time with you myself - being the only woman in a household of men, it can get very lonely sometimes. It will be wonderful to have another woman with whom to go shopping and so forth. Men, however much they try, just cannot see things from the same perspective as another woman.
Take care of yourself and remember not to neglect your health in favour of your studies. You are a brilliant girl, and you will do better in your studies if you take enough rest and take plenty of fluids.
If there is anything you need, just let me know and I'll be happy to send it to you.
Your friend,
Narcissa."
Hermione folded the letter with trembling fingers and put it into her bag. Across the table, Ron looked up from his plate of eggs and sausages, and frowned.
"You okay, Hermione?" he asked thickly, through a mouthful of toast.
"Fine," she muttered, looking unenthusiastically at the piece of half-eaten toast on her plate.
"What was the letter about?" Harry asked from behind his copy of the Daily Prophet, "I didn't recognise the owl."
"Oh, it's nothing," Hermione shrugged busying herself pouring a cup of tea and not looking at him, "just something Stanwick wanted to know. I'll reply to them later."
"Mental," muttered Ron, "You'd think you'd have had enough of exams after the last seven years, but no. What do you go and do? Accept a place on a course that lasts three years, minimum. I reckon you need your head examined."
Hermione didn't respond to this, being too engrossed in her own thoughts. Draco Malfoy had wasted no time in telling his parents that she was going to stay with them during the summer. She could just imagine the self-satisfied look that would have crossed Lucius Malfoy's pointed face on learning the news – the man must have been in seventh heaven, and all because Hermione had given in to her temper, and taken Draco Malfoy's bait.
The sound of the bell signalling the start of lessons had the effect of rousing her from her thoughts. Swinging her heavy bag onto her back, she bid Ron and Harry goodbye, and made her way out of the Great Hall, up the marble staircase towards the Arithmacy classroom. Halfway up the stairs, she felt her arm being taken, and turning, she saw Malfoy grinning at her as he fell into step beside her.
"I noticed that Mother sent you a letter this morning," he said casually, pushing his way through a knot of first years. At Hermione's raised eyebrow, he explained, "I recognised her owl. What did she say?"
Hermione felt her temper rising and spat out, "If you already know, why bother asking?"
He smiled infuriatingly, and drawled, "Just curious, that is all. I imagine she was pleased that you had expressed a wish to come and stay with us. Mother took a real liking to you, you know, since she's always wanted a daughter to dote on."
Hermione was just about to deliver a scathing retort, when a voice behind them, made both of them wheel round to come face to face with Professor Dumbledore.
"This is a rare sight indeed," he smiled, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, "a Gryffindor and a Slytherin walking to class together."
Malfoy's smile became even broader and he nodded his agreement, and Dumbledore carried on, "I couldn't help overhearing the last part of your conversation – am I right in assuming that you are spending part of your summer with the Malfoys, Miss Granger?"
"Umm," Hermione hedged, but Malfoy broke in.
"Oh yes, Professor! Hermione has agreed to spend part of her summer with us. How's that for inter-House relations?"
Dumbledore beamed down at them; and whilst Hermione was in a thoroughly irritable mood, she reluctantly returned his smile.
"That is wonderful news," he beamed, "Do you plan to stay in Britain?"
"Oh no," Malfoy replied smoothly, "we're spending the summer in our villa in the south of France."
"Splendid, splendid," Dumbledore approved, "Yes, excellent indeed. A bit of sun can work wonders!" Smiling serenely he turned and strode off in the opposite direction.
Hermione turned away, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Was it her imagination, or did Dumbledore seem a bit too pleased with the idea of her spending part of her summer with the Malfoys? Deciding to ponder this problem later, she turned her attention to the day ahead and her ever-increasing workload.