"Dobby!"

The house-elf appeared by the coffee table in the centre of the room with a sharp crack, facing his new mistress. With the death of Dumbledore, Dobby had found himself in need of a new employer. Initially, that had been Harry, but recent changes in Hermione's circumstances had prompted Harry to transfer Dobby over to Hermione.

There had been some disagreement between the two at first, with Dobby wanting to call her by one of several long and... descriptive names. Hermione, on the other hand, had tried to convince him that using her name would not be disrespectful. Eventually they had compromised on the simplest and most traditional of titles, although Hermione suspected that Dobby used one of his own names in the privacy of his own thoughts.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"It would seem I have a guest, Dobby. Fetch some tea for us, please," Hermione asked him, politely.

Dobby turned to identify his mistress' 'guest'. He quickly spun back around, snarling. Almost spitting out in a venomous hiss he told her, "It is the dark young master! He let them into Hogwarts! Mistress should be calling Harry Potter, not giving him tea!"

"I have my reasons, Dobby," Hermione told the elf primly, "And you will do as I have asked. Is that understood?"

Dobby's snarl twisted as he vainly fought his natural inclination to obey. Reluctantly he replied, "Yes, Mistress," And turned to go.

"And Dobby?" Hermione called out after him, "No tricks, now."

Dobby paused, and then continued out muttering invectives under his breath.

"Tricks?" Draco asked, apprehensively. He may be disdainful of elves, but he was also well aware of their power. A house-elf with out the checks of ownership, a free elf, was a worrying concept indeed.

Hermione smiled in what seemed to be satisfaction. "Did you not notice that you seemed to be the victim of rather a large number of pranks over couple of years, Draco? Short-sheeted beds? Shrunk clothing? Dobby spent much of that time getting revenge for your treatment of him while he was in your family's... care."

Draco shot a dark look in the direction the house-elf had gone. "Why that little..."

Hermione let him rant for a while. It would do him good and it never hurt to hear the self-delusions of others - it gave one ammunition for later conversations. She gave him just enough time to incriminate himself in several minor incidents, both at school and during Dobby's tenure at Malfoy manor, and just enough time that the house-elf should just about be ready to serve tea.

Hermione actually wondered at his verbosity. Surely by now most Slytherins had learned to guard their tongues in the presence of others, enemies and allies alike. Was this loose tongue of his an aspect of what had passed between them at the front door? And if so just how powerful was it? And what was the price for her?

Unlike Draco, Hermione had recognised the ancient magic for what it was. She also knew that most in the wizarding world considered it just a formal tradition, the latter part of which was used only by the most orthodox of pureblood families, which could include both the Malfoys and the Blacks. Well that could create quite the wrinkle in her rapidly reforming plans, and in order to counter the potential problem, she would have to reveal that part of reality to Draco far sooner than she would like.

"Oh, do be quiet, Draco," Hermione instructed.

Draco shut his mouth, and then was entirely surprised he had done so. Barely able to hide his indignation, he asked in almost calm tones, "What did you do to me?"

Hermione merely smirked. "Happy Birthday, Draco."

Draco was taken aback. How did this aggravating Mudblood know it was his birthday? He asked again, "What did you do to me? What spell did you cast?"

"It is a magic," Hermione told him, "So ancient that it no longer needs a caster. It has become so ingrained into the traditions and bloodlines of the purebloods that it has taken on a life of its own."

Draco's voice was full of scorn as he interrupted. He may have come seeking an ally, but that didn't mean she was his equal! "And you have made use of this magic? A mere Mu...ggleborn using pureblood magics? I find that hard to believe. This is some kind of trick."

Hermione admonished him, "Careful, Draco, or I'll begin to think that you don't really want my help."

At that moment Dobby reappeared, bearing the tea-tray and forestalling Draco's reply. "The tea is ready, Mistress," he announced, placing it on the coffee table. He picked up the pot to begin serving, but Hermione interrupted him.

"That will be all, Dobby. Draco will serve us." Hermione considered for a moment. Riling Draco further at this point would serve no purpose and give her little pleasure. She arched an eyebrow, "Unless, of course, he wishes otherwise? For old times' sake?" Draco grumbled his choice to serve and Hermione refrained from smirking. Sometimes a little is enough. "Black, two sugars. Dobby, return to your duties but be ready to return shortly." A crack was the only evidence of the house-elf's leaving.

As Draco placed her cup on the side table by her chair, Hermione was grateful that someone had taught the boy at least some manners. In serving her first, she gained the opportunity to feel about for the cup and saucer without revealing her... weakness. By the time Draco returned to his own chair, she was calmly sipping tea from a confidently held cup.

"So what is this magic?" Draco asked, almost demandingly.

Hermione relaxed into what the boys called her 'lecture-mode', but never once forgetting who it was she was talking to. When the explosion came it would be most entertaining. "On the day a wizard is born, the man chosen as his godfather places his own wand in the child's hand as part of the naming ceremony. Most believe it to be merely symbolic. A gesture, if you will, that the child has been accepted into wizarding society. While this is true, it is not the whole truth."

"When the child holds a wand for the first time, a bond is formed between the two, for the child's protection. This ceremony started back in the Dark Ages when witches were burned at the stake and wizards killed by the score. Should the parents die before the child reaches his majority, the godfather is compelled instantly to the child's location, to be reached by any means. That is why Sirius Black knew exactly where Harry was on the night his parents were killed. If he had apparated, instead of using that ridiculous motorcycle of his, history would have played out very differently from what we know."

"Very fascinating," Draco drawled in almost perfect imitation of his father, "But what does that have to do with me?"

"This bond is only half the ceremony. Later in the wizard's life, it is transferred to another, although the godfather retains some small sense of it. If they were ever even aware of it to begin with. The transferral happens on another important date in a young wizard's life - the attaining of his majority. His seventeenth birthday. Tell me, Draco, does your mother have anything special planned for this evening?"

Draco hesitated in revealing that information, but did so warily, curiosity winning out over caution. "Aunt Bellatrix is coming for dinner. Afterwards there will be a small gathering of... friends. Why?"

Hermione smiled in satisfaction. "On a wizard's seventeenth birthday, his mother names his godmother. She will guide him through early adulthood, helping him succeed in his career and securing a wife and family. During the proceedings, and only on that day, as an act of good faith and trust, the wizard surrenders unto his godmother... his wand."

Silence reigned for a time in Hermione's home. As she sipped the last of her tea, she could almost sense the wheels clicking and turning in Draco's head. Quickly the explosion she was waiting for came.

"You're my godmother!"

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A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last two chapters, your support is much appreciated. Thanks very much to my new beta, Veronica! And 5 points to anyone who spotted the Buffy reference.