AN: As always, you guys are the best. I think you so much for your support and interesting commentary about the story. Here is a new installment a bit early because I will be busy with family for the Thanksgiving Holiday this weekend. Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers and for everyone else, Happy Non-Thanksgiving :) Another shout out to the best alpha: LaDeeDaa and beta: astrangefan that anyone could ever ask for.
Narcissa Malfoy
Holy Shite.
It made perfect sense. The Rakov brothers wanted to create a horcrux - but how did they even know about them. Draco had lived with one in his house and didn't know anything about them.
Trust.
Voldemort didn't trust the Malfoys anymore. The entire ordeal of making Draco kill Dumbledore was, ostensibly, to regain that trust. Firstly, Hermione was convinced Voldemort thought the task would kill Draco, and that was its real goal. Secondly, he hadn't succeeded anyway. Even setting up shop in Malfoy Manor had been a punishment.
Voldemort knew that Lucius escaped justice by claiming imperious and was sure he'd do it again if he got half a chance. He wasn't going to trust his mortality to the Malfoys. She wondered how the information did end up making it to the Rakovs.
It didn't particularly matter. It was only a hypothesis at this point. They needed to explore Theo's memories.
"Draco, Theo, and I will go to the Headmistress' office," Hermione said, turning to Harry and Padma. "We'll break down what they were brewing."
Harry nodded. "Of course," he said. "I'll make excuses for Ron. He won't be in any shape to come into the office for several days."
Madam Pomfrey turned the corner and noted them all surrounding a bed, her eyes ablaze with concern. "What in Merlin's…"
Hermione left Padma to explain what had happened in her Hospital Ward while she was diligently tending to Mrs. Malfoy.
"Potter," Draco called back halfway out of the ward. Harry's green eyes met Draco's.
"Tell my mum I'll be back this evening." Harry nodded quickly and then turned back to Padma and Madam Pomfrey as they went over Ron's vitals.
Hermione felt a smile creep across her lips. Whether they liked it or not, these four men in her life were becoming close – or at least trusting each other.
The trio made their way to the Third Floor in comfortable silence until Theo finally spoke. "So, Narcissa's here?"
Draco swallowed and nodded. "Hermione had her transferred after she…" his voice seemed to go dry so Hermione continued for him.
"She'd had a hallucination and accidentally hurt herself. I was called to St. Mungo's because she's still listed as a subject on my case file. I got Kingsley to agree to release her under my care until we resolve the case," she explained.
"I'm sure The Prophet will love that," Theo snorted.
"Well, how was your trip with Ron?" Hermione asked, "before the dramatic exit, that is."
"Fine," Theo shrugged. "He's actually brilliant."
Hermione rolled her eyes as Draco scoffed. "He is," Theo argued. "I wouldn't ask to copy off him for a Charms essay, but he's so quick and strategic. It was my idea to go into the manor. He wanted to run a few more spells…"
"He's going to be okay," Hermione promised, placing her hand on Theo's shoulder as they approached the gargoyle. "I know Ron and he'd have eventually gone in no matter what."
She wasn't just making him feel better. Ron was strategic, but he was also sometimes reckless, and he certainly hated waiting to act.
Theo shrugged noncommittally. "Anyway, it's weird."
"What's weird?" Hermione asked.
"In all the battles involving the Dark Lord, that was my first actual mission."
Hermione laughed, "Now that you mention it, we are adding that to your defence. What kind of Death Eater's only mission is in direct opposition to The Dark Lord's wishes?"
Draco squeezed her hand and smiled down at her. It was another of those warm, uncomplicated smiles that made her insides turn into goo.
"Tartan," she said to the gargoyle before watching it move out of the way.
She was happy to find Minerva at her desk. She didn't really want to use the pensieve without her permission - even though McGonagall had basically given her permission to use anything in the castle she needed to. The older woman looked at them intently with a worried expression.
"Mr. Weasley, is he…"
Sometimes Hermione forgot that McGonagall was probably just as worried as the rest of them about this entire case.
"He'll be okay," Hermione assured her. "It was the Sectumsempra," she continued, "but Draco knew the counter-curse."
There was a significant look between Draco and Snape's portrait, but Hermione pushed forward. "If you don't mind, we were wondering if we could use the pensieve. There are some memories of Theo's from the mission that I'd like to review."
"Certainly," the Headmistress said, setting down her quill. She stood and unlocked the bureau that contained the pensieve and handed the keys to Hermione. "I'll just go down to the Hospital Wing and check on Mr. Weasley and Madam Malfoy."
Hermione smiled and nodded, setting the keys to the bureau down on the credenza nearby and pulling out the pensieve. "Okay," she said, turning to Theo. "I need everything from inside the manor if you can."
Draco moved up to the pensieve at her left, Theo at her right, and she watched as Theo took his English Oak wand and pointed it to his temple, concentrating as he pulled the silvery memories from his head. He dropped them instantly into the pensieve.
In unison, the three of them took a deep breath before linking hands and diving in.
Immediately, Hermione saw a dark and dusty parlour begin to form before them, her feet touching down on the ground as her eyes came into focus. She could tell the place had seen action at some point during the war. A filthy pink couch was upturned in front of a fireplace that she was sure either didn't work, or it would burn down the entire place if someone tried.
The carpets were thick with dust and debris. There were scorch marks on the walls. In the centre of the room was a long wooden table, probably pulled in from the dining room. Upon it was a quickly assembled potions lab. She felt Draco pull her forward, his grey eyes intently taking in all the ingredients and tools on the table.
He dropped her hand to move around the table. Hermione noticed lacewing flies, a huge pile of knotgrass. She wished she could take her notebook into the memory with her. She took notes in her head instead.
Boomslang skin
Wormwood
Snake Venom
A chill ran down her spine. "Draco," she said pointing to the venom.
"I know," he said, his mind distracted as he crouched down on the floor next to the table, clearly looking for something.
"What is it?" she asked. But suddenly, behind her she heard a crash as the Rakov Brothers ambushed Theo and Ron.
"Go back!" Draco called, as the attention of the memory moved to battle with the Rakovs and away from the table of potions ingredients. Unfortunately, once in a memory you couldn't 'go back'.
Hermione clutched Theo's hand as she watched him with Ron fight off the three Death Eaters. Theo was much more adept than he gave himself credit for. She smiled to herself as she saw Ron protect Theo at every turn.
Under a protego, Theo turned his attention to Dobromir as the lanky Death Eater dodged their curses in order to get around them to the potions table.
Draco and Hermione both focused intently on what he picked up as he shoved ingredients into a rucksack at his side. He quickly dumped the contents of the cauldron into the floor before putting it in the bag, then the ingredients on the table. He kneeled next to the table right next to Draco - in fact, he moved directly through Draco to grab - a bone?
Draco's eyes widened as he watched Dobromir carefully place the bone - Hermione thought it looked like an ulna or radius bone - inside the bag. Past Theo must have taken into account what he was doing at that point because he shot a curse at Dobromir that the Bulgarian dodged by crawling under the table.
"After he got past me, that's when they hit Ron," Theo explained.
"Let's come up," Hermione suggested, reaching out for both of their hands before pulling the three of them out of the pensieve together.
Draco's intense grey eyes went to hers as if asking her what she saw.
"Polyjuice," she answered his unasked question. He nodded.
"Yeah, Polyjuice," he agreed. "I think a modified Pepper-Up too."
"The bone," she said, breathlessly. "The snake venom."
Draco nodded again. "I'm certain they are brewing the horcrux potion," he said. "But the bone…"
"Excuse me, what are you two talking about?" it was Snape's bored drawl.
Hermione hadn't realised they'd been overheard. Both Dumbledore and Snape had been sleeping when they arrived. But if he was awake, and if he was listening, why not seek his help - especially since he was clearly interested.
She and Draco shuffled over to Snape's portrait; Theo close behind. "It's an incredibly long story," she started…
"Not so long," Draco said to his mentor's portrait. "The Rakov twats are trying to help revive the Dark Lord. Theo and Weasley infiltrated their hideout and found them brewing potions."
"Merlin help us all…" Snape interjected with a sneer.
"Right," Draco agreed. "It's obvious they've made polyjuice. We theorised that they are trying to make the potion that creates a horcrux - in hopes they could take the part of The Dark Lord's soul stuck in Sneezewart and turn it into a proper, protected horcrux."
"That would be impossible," Snape interrupted. "The Dark Lord would have no way to drink the potion…"
But Snape's oil painted eyes squinted slightly. "Unless…"
"What?" Hermione asked, leaning in.
"Well, The Dark Lord cannot drink any potions in his current form, but if he were to possess another - one who could drink the potion…" Snape turned his attention back to them. "Did I hear you mention a bone?"
"Yes…" Hermione said, her heart racing with anticipation. She was beginning to think Snape needed another posthumous Order of Merlin given that he had been the most invaluable resource to date on the case.
"If The Dark Lord were to take hold of someone else, possess them, then the potion would need a way to differentiate between the soul of the host and the soul of The Dark Lord. It needs a genetic touchstone," Snape explained.
"Genetic?" Theo asked, scratching his head. "What does it mean?"
Hermione swallowed. She knew where Snape was going with this. "It means something related, blood related, to The Dark Lord so the potion attaches itself to the correct soul."
Draco's brows furrowed. "So, the bone could be from someone related to The Dark Lord. Do we even know of The Dark Lord's ancestry?"
Hermione smiled. "Yes. We do."
Narcissa Malfoy under Ministry Care
Once again, the Department of Mysteries has taken over the care and security of a resident of Azkaban Prison. Hermione Granger and Auror Ronald Weasley were stopped leaving St. Mungo's after it was anonymously reported by staff that Narcissa Malfoy was being given VIP treatment in a wing of the overburdened hospital.
Weasley pushed through the crowds of angry protestors as Hermione Granger dodged questions about her increasingly troubling interference into the Criminal Justice System. Narcissa Malfoy still has nearly five years left on her sentence due to her involvement with You-Know-Who, including hosting him in her home for over a year.
Staff could not comment on what it was that brought Madam Malfoy to St. Mungo's, but one source explained that they were immediately impeded from their work when Granger arrived, kicking them out and installing her own team.
This alarming lack of oversight in Miss Granger's activities has reached a point that the Wizengamot can no longer ignore. Yesterday, the body held a vote and with a majority in favour have decided to vet those casefiles assigned to the young witch in closed session - date to be determined.
When reached for comment, Warden Hoganis expressed his outrage at the situation. "I am charged with protecting the Wizarding world from the people who tried to annihilate the likes of this Granger woman. Yet, she constantly wields her little authority to do as she pleases."
Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt would provide no comment, only that it was a matter for the Wizengamot and Department of Mysteries to iron out - not for him to dictate. Perhaps it might be time for an election to let the people decide if they think the entire judicial system should be at the whim of a barely of age witch.
"Utter rubbish," Hermione scoffed, throwing the paper down.
"Oi! How did anyone believe this was me?" Ron asked, raising the paper in his hand from his place on the hospital bed. He'd woken not long after Hermione, Draco, and Theo had gone to the Headmistress' office and if his appetite was anything to go by, he was recovering nicely.
Hermione looked at the picture they'd snapped, Draco holding her by the arm, firmly, his face set into a deep scowl as he pushed through the throng of people to get her out of the Atrium of St. Mungo's.
"I don't walk like that - stick up my arse," Ron protested.
Hermione snorted a laugh. Harry and Padma didn't even bother to cover their cackles. Theo just smirked. Draco wasn't there. He was sitting at his mother's bedside.
"Posh bastard looks like he's headed to tea with the Minister!" Ron cried, clearly offended that anyone in wizarding Britain would take him for someone with proper posture.
"Well, luckily the papers bought it," Hermione said. "Anyway, I suppose I'll be getting my summons to the Wizengamot any day. Let's just hope we are done here by the time I do."
"Which, speaking of," Harry began, "we have to talk about finishing this. We have no idea where the Rakov brothers are, but we know what they are trying to do now. And we know that they are using Polyjuice."
"Right," Hermione said. "And that means we don't trust anyone outside these walls. You verify identity on everyone."
"Of course," Harry nodded. "Do they have everything they need for the potion?" Harry asked.
Hermione shook her head. "They can't," she said. "The potion requires part of the person he killed - Snape. They can't have gotten that yet."
"Because his body is buried here…" Harry breathed, realising the luck of that particular detail.
"Right," Hermione said.
"But the world thinks Snape is in Cokeworth next to his mother," Ron pointed out.
"Exactly," Hermione replied. It was an opportunity to take the Rakov brothers out before they ever even had a chance to get near Hogwarts, the Energy, or the opportunity to create a Horcrux. "They will be headed to Cokeworth. They know their time is limited and that we are on their tail. They will need to get a piece of Snape's body and we have the advantage of knowing where Snape's body really is."
It had been decided by Harry, exclusively, that Snape should be buried on Hogwarts grounds. After uncovering the truth about his hated Potions Master, the sad life he'd led, and the even sadder one outside the castle, Harry made the choice to have Snape buried near the Owlery off about one-hundred yards from the quidditch pitch. He'd placed a stone there with no name but an engraving of a lily.
The only people who knew of Snape's final resting place were the few who might have cared to visit him from the Order. For the rest of the world, Snape was buried beside his mother in a small, nondescript cemetery in Cokeworth - incidentally, the same one where Harry's maternal grandparents were laid to rest.
"It offers us two advantages," Ron said. "We know where he really is - and we know where they are going."
"Mrs. Malfoy, would you mind if Draco and I help you to the bath?" Hermione asked with an awkward but warm smile. The older woman's wounds had nearly healed, and Hermione and Padma agreed that it would be good for her to get out of the bed at least for a little while.
Narcissa swallowed looking between Draco and Hermione. "Well," she began, a blush of embarrassment creeping up her neck.
"Mother, please…" Draco nearly begged. They both knew she was embarrassed and uncomfortable at the idea, but she could also not deny her son. Slowly she nodded.
"Great," Hermione beamed. "We'll go to the Prefects' bath. It's very comfortable and private."
"I was a prefect, dear," Narcissa reminded her gently. "I remember."
"Oh," Hermione said, her turn to blush. "Right."
Draco very gently helped his mother up and into the wheelchair that had been used for Hermione. He could have levitated her, but this way offered her more dignity. As they made their way down the corridor out into the school Narcissa asked, "Where did you get your new wand?"
It was a simple question and Hermione knew that Narcissa intended for her tone to be light, but she knew it was a significant thing, and seeing her son with his magic affected her deeply.
"Potter," Draco said simply.
Narcissa was silent for a moment before nodding.
They walked the rest of the way in an awkward silence that made Hermione's skin crawl. She clamped her lips shut to stop filling the void with endless, annoying chatter - though the temptation was great.
Draco halted the chair in front of the Prefects' bathroom and Hermione said the password. As they moved inside, the tension between the three of them only grew and Hermione knew she needed to ease the anxiety of both Malfoys somehow.
"Draco, could you start the taps," she asked, reaching her hand out to offer it to Narcissa. Mrs. Malfoy looked at the hand for a moment before nodding and taking it, letting the younger witch lead her to a bench nearby the edge of the bath.
Immediately, Hermione set to work. She grabbed one of the fluffy towels in the bin and transfigured it larger before erecting it as a sort of barrier to offer Narcissa her privacy. She saw the older witch's eyes soften with gratitude and smiled.
Next, she helped Narcissa out of her hospital gown - averting her eyes - then turned to transfigure the gown into something that would be easier to bathe in. Hermione's fumbling hands, nervously spelled the scratchy cotton into a nylon bathing suit which she helped the older woman into, always making sure not to draw attention to Mrs. Malfoy's nakedness.
She knew this was an incredibly uncomfortable, humbling situation for the woman. Hermione had no idea how Narcissa felt about her personally, but they certainly didn't know each other well, and to need this level of help - then again, it's possible the older witch was used to it after five years of being poked and prodded in a prison. Still, Hermione was determined to give her every level of dignity she could.
When she was done, she smiled brightly at Narcissa and called to Draco asking him to come take his mother's other arm to help her into the bath. He did so instantly, seemingly finally happy to have something to do other than pace near the taps.
His eyes met Hermione's over his mother's head and he gave her a grateful smile. She smiled in return and they both held Narcissa's hands as she eased herself into the hot water.
A barely audible moan escaped the woman as she settled into the bubbling pool. Narcissa took long pulls of air into her nose, steadying herself and as a moment passed, Hermione saw tears slip past her eyelids and paint her cheeks.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked at once. "Do you need me to get Padma? Madam Pomfrey?"
"Fine," Narcissa breathed, her blue eyes finally opening to look at Hermione. "Thank you," she said, her voice choking, but Hermione just smiled and squeezed her hand before letting Mrs. Malfoy enjoy her bath in peace.
"Are you okay in here alone?" Draco asked, his brows knit together in concern.
"Perfectly fine," Narcissa assured as she waved him off, and he let go of her other hand and followed Hermione to the corner of the room where she'd reestablished the barrier between them and his mother for her privacy. They'd be close enough if she needed help, but it would give her the independence and control that she needed after her ordeal in prison.
At once Hermione found herself pushed up against the stone wall, Draco's hot mouth on hers. His tongue slid between her lips, and she bit back a moan just as his mouth moved to her ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight tonight," he promised, his voice a sinful timber that made her insides swoop.
He kissed her long and hard one more time before pushing back off the wall and sitting on the bench next to them, pulling her to sit beside him. She smiled like a blissful idiot.
With cheeks red and the stupid smile still pasted on her face, Hermione snuggled into Draco's side and took his hand in hers. "So, about Cokeworth…"
He tensed but said nothing. "Harry and I will be going - Ron is not in any shape."
He let out a long low breath. "I'm sure you understand that it's best for you to stay back with your mother," Hermione continued.
His breathing hitched but returned to normal after a moment. She could hear him pulling air into his lungs through his nose as if trying to calm himself. "Even if there wasn't your mother to consider," Hermione went on, "You are incredibly recognizable. You'd have to be disguised if you came, and Cokeworth is not the only matter of importance."
That seemed to get his attention. He stilled, his hand in hers tightened slightly. "Harry and I will work on wards to protect Professor Snape's gravesite, but when we are gone, you, Theo, Ron, Padma, and McGonagall will be the only people to defend it should they make it through us or should they have better intel than we realise."
His hand loosened slightly, and his breathing returned to normal. "Padma is not a dueler. Ron is still recovering. Theo's skills are good, but…"
"But I was trained by the best," he finished for her.
She nodded against his shoulder. "I'm not leaving you back to patronise you," she said, finally looking up into his grey eyes. "I'm leaving you back to protect Hogwarts, and to help me with research on controlling Fiendfyre."
He looked down at her intently and nodded. "Okay," he said. And Hermione smiled. That conversation had gone significantly better than she expected.
"Miss Granger, would you mind if I spoke with you for a moment?" Narcissa asked the question with all the authority of a woman who was not sitting in a hospital bed, a transfigured night dress clinging to her thin frame as Hermione fussed about helping her with her dinner.
"Of course," Hermione said, hoping the tightness in her voice wasn't noticeable. The truth was, she was terrified of Narcissa. This woman held in her hands the ability to take Draco from her, to twist his allegiances, and to hurt Hermione more than anyone else in the castle.
Narcissa indicated to the chair next to the bed and Hermione sat in it, hands folded neatly in her lap as she waited.
Madam Malfoy looked at Hermione for a moment before she began to speak. "I know that you and Draco are involved." Hermione nodded. There was no point in denying it. "Draco and I discussed an abridged version of events from the moment you took him from Azkaban to when I arrived here just yesterday."
Hermione nodded again, clamping her teeth together, desperate not to say anything stupid.
Narcissa changed the subject on her abruptly. "When you came to the prison to treat me, I'll admit, I didn't trust you." Hermione knew that. And, of course, she didn't blame the woman. What reason could she have to trust her?
"My entire knowledge of you comes from second-hand stories from a husband and son who, let's face it, are hardly reliable witnesses." Narcissa paused for a moment. "I suppose I should have known there was more to Draco's complaints about you than blood status. There were countless Muggle-born witches at Hogwarts that Draco did not particularly bother himself about…"
Narcissa shook her head as if she hadn't meant to veer off topic. "What I mean to say is, I did not trust you - not until my son wrote that letter. I assumed you'd help for a little while, move on, and we'd never see you again."
"I understand that," Hermione allowed. "You don't really know me, so you have no reason to trust me."
"That's kind of you to say," Narcissa said. "But, I also didn't trust you because you are Muggle-born."
Hermione sucked in a deep breath but remained silent.
Here it comes.
Narcissa's eyes narrowed but not maliciously. She looked at Hermione like she wanted to say something but didn't know the best way to say it. "What do you know about Wizarding/Muggle relations through history?" Narcissa finally asked.
The question caught Hermione off guard. It had not been what she was expecting. "Er, well…" she began. "It was a very long, turbulent history full of bloodshed and terror. I know that the Wizarding World went into hiding around the time of the Witch Trials in America. Those witch trials came after centuries of terror and lesser known trials against magical folk here in the United Kingdom," she explained.
"Yes," Narcissa nodded. "I assumed you knew the history. What I think is harder to understand is the generational trauma of it."
Hermione crossed her legs and leaned in. She was very interested in what Narcissa was about to say. "For many purebloods - and certainly the Sacred twenty-eight - our families were present for the purges, the burnings, the trials, the drownings that killed both Magical and Muggle alike. The stories of the rapes, pillagings, torture, disfigurations - they are passed down from infancy to each generation."
Hermione nodded, willing her to continue. "I'm not saying it is right, Miss Granger, but our ways - our beliefs - are steeped in that generational trauma. And Muggle-borns are believed to be an existential threat due to how they blur the lines between Magical and Muggle worlds."
Hermione had heard this argument before. "It's all very academic to explain it this way. A professor of Magical/Muggle relations could write you a three-foot scroll on the topic, the origins, the prognosis for these sorts of beliefs. But for the majority of people born into this generational trauma - it's just hate. Pure hate taught from the cradle, cultivated over years, and passed down like hair colour."
Hermione understood exactly what she meant. This sort of passed down bigotry was all over the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. What surprised her is how articulate Narcissa was at talking about its roots. Most who were victims of it were either unaware of the origins or didn't care.
"I have been, my whole life, guilty of this sort of easy, noncritical hatred. I fed it to my son with my milk, and I want to apologise for that." The older woman looked Hermione squarely in the eye, a sense of vulnerability about her that caused Hermione's eyes to sting.
"Mrs. Malfoy…" she began, trying to find the right thing to say after that. "I forgive you."
The woman smiled back at her, extending her hand which Hermione promptly took. "The fact that you can overlook everything we've done, all the things Draco did - to you specifically - and allow him the grace to prove he's changed tells me everything about your character, Miss Granger…"
"Please, call me Hermione," Hermione interjected.
"Hermione," Narcissa amended. "And I insist you call me Narcissa." Hermione felt that would be as difficult a task as calling McGonagall 'Minerva' to her face, but she nodded.
"I saw his arm," Narcissa said, finally. "Hermione, I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done for my son."
Hermione's features softened and she smiled. "As I've told Draco more than one-hundred times, there is nothing to repay."
With the realisation that Narcissa was not, in fact, about to tell her she was no good for her son, Hermione leaned back and relaxed a bit. "You know, I do understand the wizarding fear of Muggles," she admitted. "Of course, I don't think it explains the hatred and vitriol toward them or Muggle-borns either, but intellectually I do understand it. Muggles have their own faults, their own infighting, their own bigotries. And I know the anti-Magic period was horrific. I know why the Magical world went into hiding, and I know that hiding has not been without extreme sacrifices.'
Hermione took a deep breath before continuing on. "But, like with all cases of bigotry, the pendulum swung in the other direction - hard. By the end of The Dark Lord's reign of terror, the anti-Muggle faction of our world was quite as disgusting as the anti-Magical faction was in the 1600s, wouldn't you say?"
Narcissa inclined her head forward. "Yes, I would," she admitted in a quiet voice.
"I'm a witch," Hermione ploughed forward, a newfound confidence in her. "I was born to Muggle parents whom I love very much, but I'm a witch and I belong in the Wizarding world. I could never go back to living as a Muggle. My parents…"
She faltered then, the image of her mother and father swimming through her brain as she considered opening up to Narcissa. She didn't know why, but she felt compelled to - as if Narcissa was someone she could tell these things to without totally destroying herself. "When The Dark Lord killed Dumbledore," she made sure to pin the murder on him because it was entirely Voldemort's doing, "I knew my parents were not going to be safe. I was going to be on the run, they'd be a prime target." Narcissa nodded, listening intently.
"So, I altered their memories and sent them to Australia. They have no idea who I am or that they have a child. I can't fix their memories." She heard Narcissa gasp, but she continued on. "I made a choice - though, I'd argue that it was less a choice and more an inevitability. I was a witch, and I'd fight for my place in this world despite knowing it was an uphill battle. I am as much a witch as you are, and I think that if there had been more acceptance of Muggle-borns and their Muggle families, we might have been able to bridge the gap between the two worlds long ago - so we wouldn't have to live in secret anymore."
"It's a nice idea," Narcissa agreed. "I'm not entirely sure I share your optimism, but I can agree that pushing away Muggle-borns and their parents did nothing to help matter."
Hermione could accept that.
"I'm sorry about your parents," Narcissa replied, and her voice was earnest.
Hermione shrugged, holding back a sniffle. "They are safe, and that's the important thing."
"I've enjoyed speaking with you, Hermione," Narcissa finally said.
"I've enjoyed speaking with you too, Mrs. Malfoy."
That night, when Hermione returned to the common room, Draco made good on his promise to fuck her - though she was still perfectly capable of walking after. He showed his appreciation in every stroke, his love in every caress, and as they both tumbled over the edge of sanity, coming hard in unison, he whispered against her ear that he was hers forever. She held him tight and promised them both, silently, that forever would be a very long time.