Chapter 4
Hermione worried that she had upset Mrs. Malfoy. As eager as she'd felt to escape the tense atmosphere in the sitting room, she also worried about what her and Draco's dismissal meant. She was quickly distracted from this worry because Malfoy Manor was the most wonderful place on earth. While Hogwarts was haunting and mysterious, a true castle; the Malfoy seat was opulent and enchanting, the palace of her fairy tale dreams. She was further charmed by Draco's surprisingly unpretentious tour. He'd grabbed her hand the instant they'd departed their parents' company and insisted that their first stop be the kitchens, pulling her along the entire way in his excitement. The house was breathtaking and for the first time Draco was openly behaving like her friend, like she was somebody he wanted to impress.
"Our elves make the best...well, everything Hermione," he'd insisted.
They'd entered the room, which would have been the height of modernity in any nineteenth century manor home, but catching a glimpse at the floating platters and self scrubbing pans, Hermione suspected there was no suffering for lack of modern appliances. She was less certain about the beings- the previously mentioned elves, she supposed- she saw working about within. They were unlike any creature she'd ever seen and they seemed completely oblivious to their presence, that is until Draco cleared his throat. They turned as one to look at him and it was as if the sun had come up early.
"Master Draco!" one of them squeaked, beaming, "we are preparing your dinner, are you needing something else?"
"Hello Raffie," he said kindly, "'I'm sure you're doing a superb job, but our parents have been delayed, and I wanted Hermione to see how wonderful our elves were and perhaps taste some of your chocolate biscuits?" he cajoled.
Another older looking elf, approached and whacked at Draco's pleading hands, though with obviously no attempt to injure.
"Young master has a silver tongue like the symbol of his house!" she chastised, "Jema knows better!" she wagged a long finger at him.
Hermione laughed.
"But how will Hermione know how good your chocolate biscuits are?" he pleaded, apparently with total sincerity.
"Miss," Jema said with a slight bow to Hermione, "when you return to Malfoy Manor we will be honored to serve you whatever the Little Master wishes, given that Mistress has not ordered a meal."
She watched Draco's cheeks pink slightly at the 'Little Master' moniker, but she was rather charmed with the byplay, perhaps he was less spoiled than she'd imagined. When she'd wanted a stray biscuit she'd been able to swipe it with stealth, he'd apparently had an army of minders. That was amusing.
"Show me your room?" she asked in an attempt to retrieve his dignity, she was too young to realize that the comment could be interpreted as suggestive.
A smaller elf came racing after them as they exited the kitchen.
"Master Draco!"
"Evie?" he questioned.
"I've brought you something," she said conspiratorially.
She handed him a small parchment wrapped bundle. He laid a hand fondly on her head.
"Thanks Evie."
"Thank you Evie," Hermione echoed, a little baffled by the delighted skip/giggle her words seemed to elicit from the elf.
They strolled through the halls, sharing the package that contained a combination of chocolate biscuits-which were, as Draco had insisted, the best she'd ever tasted, and shortbread, which was Hermione's favorite- and he pointed out an interesting landmark here and there.
"Evie seems especially fond of you," she observed, unsure what to make of these elves in general, or that one in particular.
He chuckled.
"She's Rumi's sister," at her look of incomprehension he continued, "Rumi is to become by personal elf, officially, upon my betrothal or coming of age, Evie is set to be my wife's elf. She is anxious for that to happen, she keeps busy enough but she wants a mistress, in the meantime she dotes on me."
Hermione couldn't identify it but there was something heartwarming about the way Draco spoke of the elves, there was also something that bothered her about the whole thing.
"You're already preparing for a wife?"
"Well, sure, I wouldn't want to find a witch only to insult her by making her think I wasn't serious in my suit."
"You're eleven," said Hermione slowly, like that explained it all.
He just shrugged.
"My parents were betrothed at 14."
Hermione contemplated this, it wasn't really that big of a revelation, it wasn't that long ago that such practices were common in the muggle world, still were in some cultures, and she'd seen enough to know that magical Britain was very old fashioned. Then there was the fact that she had gathered, from Mrs. Malfoy's own characterization of her husband, and Draco's various descriptions of his parents marriage, that it was actually quite a healthy and loving relationship. This was admittedly difficult for Hermione to understand, as far as she could tell the man was absolutely terrifying, but she trusted Draco and his mother. And she didn't think Draco's parents would ever allow him to attach himself to a witch who was unsuited or unworthy of him. No, it was Draco's very mention of a wife that irked her, almost made her sad, she just didn't know why.
"This house is remarkable," she said, to distract herself from her thoughts.
"I know," Draco smirked, "and this is my suite," he said, dramatically throwing open a door.
Suite. He had a suite. Hermione was used to nice things. Her parents made a good living, she'd had everything she'd ever needed and most of the things she'd wanted growing up. She'd traveled, had private tutors when her primary school couldn't fulfill all of her educational needs, but this was on an entirely different level. Life was apparently very different for the other half.
It was surprisingly understated. His suite opened into what appeared to be his own personal sitting room which he'd obviously turned into his own personal library; there was a large bedroom, a luxurious bathroom, and a dressing room. The finishes were refined, but not opulent, and the colors were muted. They were on the third floor of the house, overlooking what she could already tell were enormous grounds she hope to be able to explore sometime. She felt very comfortable in his space. In fact, she was completely envious.
"This is wonderful, Draco," she sighed.
"I like it," he shrugged with faux humility.
"I like the blue," she noted the theme throughout the rooms, she'd expected green or silver, maybe even grey.
"Blue has always represented House Malfoy, since before the emigration from France in the eleventh century," he said importantly.
She rolled her eyes at his attitude. That was when Raffie popped into the room. Hermione let out a little yelp.
"I am very sorry Young Mistress," he said with a bow.
She waved him off and didn't notice Draco's confused frown.
"Your presence in requested in the main dining room," the elf intoned.
"Thank you Raffie," Draco responded and then took her hand and drug her back downstairs.
Dinner was awkward but not as terrible as she'd feared when they'd been dismissed from the adults' presence. Things were at least civil and the food was delicious. She avoided Lord Malfoy's gaze at all costs, though she swore she could feel his eyes boring holes through her skull. Draco had grown up with this man as his father and yet it was his grandfather that he hated? Hermione couldn't imagine how terrible he must have been.
Mrs. Malfoy summoned her back to the Manor a couple of days later while her parents were at work and she knew that she was in trouble. She understood now how stupid it had been to experiment with her magic alone, and especially to practice conjuring magical fire in her bed. She'd read the horror stories, she knew enough about magical accidents, especially in wizards as young as she was, and she should have known better, but she'd just been so excited. She hadn't considered the consequences. The stern talking to she'd been given had been humbling. The way the older witch had held her to her bosom and let her cry out her regret and humiliation and then absolutely insisted that she refer to her as 'Narcissa' was steadying. She was well and truly on Hermione's side.
"We all make mistakes, dear girl, this one was dangerous, but I have complete confidence that you will learn from it. You are an extraordinary witch, but you must learn how to handle that."
Hermione had just nodded miserably, despairing at having disappointed this woman she so admired. But Narcissa poo-pooed that away. She spoke to her about the dangers of experimenting alone, a lesson Hermione no longer needed. And then she talked to her about not revealing her talents openly. At first Hermione had been appalled at the idea of hiding her abilities, but Narcissa explained that she would never expect Hermione to purposefully perform badly at school, just that she didn't need to exhibit her full power to the entire population of Hogwarts. Narcissa had seemed particularly distressed by the idea that somebody might spot her apparently better than average abilities and find a way to exploit her. It was a little beyond Hermione's understanding, but she trusted Narcissa, so she'd promised.
They'd returned to Hogwarts with every hope of an easy end to term. It was not to come to pass. In fact, almost everything seemed to go wrong. Only a couple of days off of the Easter holidays and Hagrid appeared in the library acting strangely, like he had something to hide. Harry and Ron could not be convinced to leave it alone.
So, they'd visited him in his hut and made a frightening discovery. He had a dragon's egg- a dragon's egg- Hermione could not imagine being more in over her head, even Fluffy seemed tame in comparison. Especially because Hagrid would not see reason. She liked the man, she thought he had a good heart, but this was insanity. He thought he could raise a baby dragon in a wooden hut in full view of a school full of children. Hermione didn't want to turn Hagrid in, but it seemed like by far the safest option, but Harry's hysterical reaction made that idea impossible.
They were in Hagrid's house watching the dragon hatch- admittedly a breathtaking sight, even as it was utterly terrifying- when she saw him peeking through the window. She spotted him long before anybody else did, she could not miss that remarkable blond hair, and then his familiar face staring back at her. But just as she could not betray Hagrid or her Gryffindor boys, she could not betray Draco, so she said nothing. As annoying as his lurking was, they were the ones technically in the wrong. Harry and Ron spotted him as he was leaving and were incensed, still she said nothing.
It took her a full day and a half to track him down. He was lounging casually in his favorite corner of the library and she felt herself suddenly angry. Something about his easy demeanor and nonchalant attitude, while she was all wound up, irked her.
"You can't just tell on Hagrid," she hissed.
He froze and then slowly looked up from his book to meet her eyes.
"You have got to be kidding me," he spat.
"I. Am. Not. For once in your life think of somebody else! He doesn't mean any harm! You could run him out of his job, out of his home!" she defended passionately.
He breathed angrily through his nose and then stood up and threw his book into his chair.
"My name means dragon, Hermione. I've been studying them since I can remember. My father created a section in our library dedicated to dragons so that I could understand why I could never have one as a pet. When I turned six I wanted one for my birthday, we keep a lot of animals on the estate, after all, I thought I should be allowed to keep my namesake. Do you know what I learnt? Dragons, no matter their breed, are dangerous and territorial; they cannot be reasoned with, and they grow at an alarming rate!" he ranted, really building up some steam, "Two years ago while on holiday we visited a dragon preserve, we watched the handlers work. It took twelve fully trained wizards who also had additional dragon handling training to get even partial control over one of the animals in order to do a health check. And that was a fairly tame Welsh Green! That beast in his hut will roast your Hagrid in weeks if somebody doesn't get it out of here soon, and then it will start in on the rest of us. I don't intend to be dragon fodder and nobody else is doing anything about it. Did you and your golden boys have some glorious plan I wasn't aware of?" he mocked.
Oh, how she wanted to lash out, to counter his assuredness, his arrogance, but she couldn't. Hagrid was immune to their pleas, and the dragon was growing frighteningly large and it had been less than 48 hours. She liked the man but she resented the position he'd put them in.
"What have you done?" she asked in a hushed whisper.
"I've written my father," he said simply, "he's on the Board of Governors of Hogwarts. I'm surprised he hasn't been here yet, but perhaps he's gathering support from the other Governors first, Dumbledore's slippery."
"Maybe they think he's wrong," she countered half-heartedly.
"You think it's acceptable for the Hogwarts gamekeeper to attempt to raise a dragon on the grounds in secret?'
"Well no, but he's a kind soul, and Harry says that he's very-"
"Would you please stop using Potter as an excuse," he interrupted abruptly, "I get it, he's Potter, he saved us all, we should worship him," he said bitterly.
"No, Harry's a good person and he doesn't want to be worshipped. I was just trying to say that I didn't think it was fair to judge somebody for one mistake, it's my impression that Hagrid's good at his job."
"One mistake? One mistake?! This isn't a mistake. He's willfully attempting to raise a dangerous beast in an unsuitable environment and he must know what he's doing is wrong or he wouldn't be hiding it."
Well, when he put it like that he had a good point. Oh, who was she kidding, she'd known he'd had a good point all along. She deflated.
"Okay," she said quietly, "you're right, your father can handle it. Can we talk about something else, I'm tired of thinking about this."
He gave her a long measured glance and then a curt nod.
"How's your charms essay coming?" he offered.
She smiled at him thankfully.
That night in the middle of dinner Lucius Malfoy strode into the Great Hall. He was obviously trying to make an entrance. Hermione was halfway tempted to hide under the table, it was impossible for her to wrap her mind around the fact that this man was the same one Narcissa spoke of so fondly. Given the fierce look he had on his face now, Hagrid might have been more than twice his size but she actually felt sorry for the giant man having to deal with the Malfoy patriarch. She did notice the ugly way Ron sneered at the man and had to wonder why, as far a she knew they'd never met. Not to mention, there was bravery and then there was stupidity, and in Hermione's opinion openly looking at somebody who radiated power the way that Lord Malfoy did in such a disparaging way definitely constituted the latter.
He walked purposefully up to the head table and addressed Dumbledore, but the Headmaster immediately put up some kind of privacy ward so the student populace couldn't hear their discussion. They left the Hall along with McGonagall and Hagrid just minutes later to much frantic whispering from three of the four house tables, Slytherin was notably muted. Hermione didn't dare say anything herself even as the boys panicked.
They didn't discover anything until the next morning when, after a hurried breakfast they went to find Hagrid. The large man was a mess and it was rather pitiful to see. Norbert had been removed, turned over to the care of a dragon preserve in Norway, his native land. Hagrid himself was on probation. He had to submit to regular inspections of his hut and of his duties if he wanted to remain at Hogwarts. Hermione thought that was actually completely reasonable given his track record (she hadn't forgotten Fluffy, she knew the headmaster was aware of the Cerberus but that didn't change the fact that Hagrid didn't seem to understand that any of these animals were dangerous) still, she felt terrible. She had been complicit in this.
"He's been put on probation," she bemoaned to Draco once she'd found him.
"He should have been fired," he shot back, "in fact, he was lucky to avoid Azkaban, Dumbledore must have really thrown his weight around."
"He doesn't deserve to go to jail!" she wailed, shocked by his callousness.
"Why not? I thought we'd been through this. He did something wrong, not just wrong but illegal, and now he's just gotten a slap on the wrist. What's to keep him from doing it again?"
"Well, he is being watched," she argued half heartedly.
"Not forever," he grumbled.
"Why are you being so stubborn about this?" she huffed, plopping down beside him.
"You could have been hurt," he snapped, his eyes locking on hers.
She inhaled sharply.
"I know you were sneaking down there when that thing was still there, what exactly do you think you or Potter or Weasley could have done against a dragon, even a baby one? They're magic resistant. And Hagrid doesn't even have a wand, but he kept letting you go down there, putting yourself in danger, and all he was worried about was keeping his stupid pet!"
She was shocked by his intensity.
"What do you think my mother would do if she knew? You thought she was upset about the bluebell flames, that's nothing in comparison!"
"Draco," she said, suddenly feeling enormously guilty.
She hadn't considered anybody's feeling other than Harry, Ron, and Hagrid's and they had been the ones blatantly flaunting the rules. Why had she not thought of Narcissa, of her own parents? How had it not occurred to her that Draco might actually be worried, she would have been in his place.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to rat you out, it's over now. But do you think you could stop acting like it's not a big deal?!"
She just nodded, eyes wide.
"Thank you, Draco, for doing something I wasn't brave enough to do," she swallowed thickly, "and for caring."
It was his turn to nod, and then he ducked his head but she saw his cheeks tinge pink.
"Can I ask you a question?" she asked, remembering something.
"Sure, but I can choose not to answer," he looked up at her and smirked.
That was more like it.
"What is the deal between your family and the Weasleys? I mean, you and Ron seemed to hate each other on sight. And Ron was looking at your father like he was evil incarnate when he was here yesterday."
She'd considered asking Narcissa but she wasn't sure if the woman would consider it an impertinence. If Draco didn't want to answer he'd just tell her it was none of her business.
"As far back as I know Malfoys and Weasleys haven't seen eye to eye," he said, apparently unoffended.
"How so? Is this about them being poor?" she asked sharply, she'd heard Draco make enough comments on the subject.
He sneered.
"Partly," he said dismissively.
She opened her mouth to protest when he cut her off.
"Don't lecture me Hermione. As distasteful as I find their poverty, that's not the reason that the families don't get along, at least not by itself."
"What do you mean?" she huffed.
"Well, first of all, they just assume that we're evil because we're all in Slytherin."
She couldn't really argue with that, Ron and his brothers' opinions all seemed very decided on the subject of Slytherin House. Though that wasn't uncommon in Hogwarts as a whole.
"Well, you hate Gryffindor."
"You lot can be obnoxious, but you're a Gryffindor and I like you just fine," he countered, and she resisted the urge to point out that that hadn't always been the case, "Do you remember the Weasley twins booing Millicent Bulstrode when she was sorted? She was the first placed in Slytherin. How do you think that made the rest of us feel, especially the rest of us who knew we were going to be sorted into Slytherin? Millicent was humiliated, that was the very first thing to happen to her at Hogwarts."
She did vaguely remember that, but she'd been so worried about her own sorting it was quickly forgotten. And while she sometimes found the Weasley twins funny, a lot of the time she thought how they acted could be described as bullying, especially to the younger kids, and especially to Slytherins. It that Draco had a lot of room to judge that either, though he had improved, she hoped maybe it was because he didn't want her to be disappointed in him.
"They shouldn't have done that," she conceded, "but still, that's just House rivalries, it seems a little thin."
"They're irresponsible," he responded immediately.
"Irresponsible?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes!" he snapped, growing annoyed, "they have too many kids."
"Who are you to judge that!" she exclaimed, her voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch, automatically feeling defensive of her friend's family.
"They have too many kids that they can't afford," he clarified.
"They may not have as much as you, or even me, but they seem to do okay," she continued to defend, though she felt slightly chastened, she'd seen enough of their situation to know that he had something of a point, but Draco really had no concept of how an average person lived and she thought he was probably exaggerating, if unintentionally.
She was startled by Draco's sudden sardonic laughter.
"I doubt very much that they would have been able to put even one of their brats through Hogwarts, not without the help of families like mine!"
"What do you mean?" she asked, her curiosity driving the last of the fight out of her.
"There's a trust at Hogwarts, it's meant to assure that all children from our community who are accepted to Hogwarts can afford to go. It's funded, mostly, by a few of the wealthiest families including House Malfoy," the pride in his voice unmistakable as he finished speaking.
"You're saying the Weasley children's tuition have been paid by this trust?"
"Yes."
"But, isn't that what it's there for? I mean, that's what you just said."
"Yes, but for them to take advantage of it like that, to just take for granted that their children could attend without them having to provide the funds is unconscionable."
She must have still looked puzzled because he continued.
"I don't know how it is with muggles, but here children are precious."
Hermione just nodded. While she'd certainly say that muggles valued children, she'd learned enough to know that it was slightly different in the magical community, which had always been so small that they treasured their children above all else for what they were, the means to pass on their heritage and, quite literally, to keep magic alive.
"To continue to have them, just because you can, when you can't afford them isn't just wrong, it's vulgar. Even my parents wouldn't have considered so many children, not that they don't have the galleons, but because they simply wouldn't have had the time to devote to the grooming and education of them all. Tell me, Hermione, how prepared do you feel Weasley was for Hogwarts?" he asked, knowingly quirking an eyebrow.
And to that she really didn't have a response, because it shocked her sometimes how little Ron seemed to know about magic, despite the fact that he'd not only grown up in this world, but was a pureblood- which meant that all of his family was magical.
"They don't teach them about our customs, our way of life. If everybody neglected their children like that I don't know how we would survive," he sniffed.
At last Hermione found her voice.
"But what about people like me? I didn't even know about magic before a year and a half ago. There are so many things I don't know. Do you think that I'll never fit in, that I'll ruin your way of life?" she questioned desperately, truly fearful, because she knew that Draco and his father's view of muggleborns was not good, and now she was beginning to understand why, and she was terrified that they may actually have a point.
He sighed heavily.
"That's what I always thought," he said.
She looked away to hide the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
"But my mother says that there aren't many of you. Only four in our whole class, the rest of us can teach you, that's why it's so important that children from magical families are instructed properly, there's no excuse for the Weasley's neglect."
"So, my blood status doesn't bother you?"
"Mother also says it's important that we infuse fresh blood into our society or we won't have any children at all anymore," he shrugged, "why do you think Mother's basically taken you in? She wants you to find a place here."
She moved without thinking, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. He stiffened but she barely noticed and only pulled away when, after several long moments, she finally realized that his arms still hung limply by his sides.
"Sorry," she said, relieved to find that when she looked at him he didn't appear offended, just confused, and a touch uncomfortable, "I think that's one muggle thing that magicals should do more of, there's nothing like a good hug," she grinned at him cheekily.
He just looked away and squirmed.
"But what about your father?" she asked.
Draco shrugged.
"Father is very protective, especially of Mother. She doesn't usually take to people the way she's taken to you, so he worries. But he could never deny her something that was important to her and she's made it pretty clear that you are."
"Does that bother you?" she wondered, she wasn't a fool, she knew Draco wasn't exactly used to sharing, Claire spent a lot of time at Malfoy Manor but his cousin was one thing, a random classmate he hadn't even known a year was another.
He looked at her, frowning thoughtfully and then he slowly shook his head.
"No, I mean we're friends, right? So, if you're going to be around that's alright with me."
Hermione felt herself flush with pleasure but she could tell that Draco was surprised by his own words. She was glad though. She and her parents had a talk after their dinner at Malfoy Manor and they'd told her of Narcissa's offer to allow her to come over to the Manor during the day over the summer to practice her magic and learn control exercises. She intended to take advantage of that as much as possible without wearing out her welcome, but she had been slightly worried about invading Draco's territory. Perhaps he would actually enjoy having her around.
"So, Malfoys and Weasleys have fundamental disagreements about what's important?" she asked, returning to the subject at hand.
He shrugged.
"I guess you could put it that way. And it's been going on for generations so it's...bitter."
She nodded.
"Thank you for telling me that," she finally said.
He looked at her thoughtfully.
"You can ask me about stuff, you know? And not just about school, I won't make fun of you."
Hermione was touched, he could be very thoughtful when he wasn't trying so hard to be a git.
"Thanks," she turned and grinned at him teasingly, "I guess in return I'll just have to teach you about muggle life."
He looked momentarily appalled before he hid it behind an emotionless mask. She just laughed at him.
If all she'd had to worry about after the dragon was taken care of was exams it would have been stressful enough, but then of course there was the stupid Philosopher's Stone. She liked to think she'd learnt her lesson over Norbert and she tried to get the boys to drop the whole thing. She couldn't imagine why Professor Dumbledore felt the need to hide it in the school, but he was one of the most powerful wizards of all time, surely he knew what he was doing. But Harry was obsessed and Ron thought it all some grand adventure, so she settled for doing what damage control she could to try and keep them out of trouble, she just wanted to make it until summer.
But then Professor Dumbledore left school for a meeting and Professor McGonagall hadn't believed that the stone was in danger. Harry was determined to go after Snape and Ron determined to accompany him. She told herself she'd tried her best to get help, and it was too late to write for it. She couldn't just abandon her friends, especially because out of the three of them she was the most logical and therefore the best problem solver, and she knew by far the most spells. She couldn't forget they'd come after her in that bathroom on Halloween. It wasn't until she was participating in a life sized game of chess complete with pieces built to destroy each other that she determined next time she got even a hint of something awry, she was going straight to Narcissa.
The story was out in hours, not the real one of course but everybody knew that she, Harry, and Ron had been out after curfew on the forbidden third floor corridor, that Harry had been injured in the course of events, and Professor Quirrell killed. Only the three of them knew the terrible truth. They'd been wrong about Snape working for Voldemort, it had been Quirrell, and he wasn't just his agent, he had been sharing his body with him. Voldemort had been teaching them Defense Against the Dark Arts all year and even now he still wasn't dead.
The first meal she returned for in the Great Hall she learned that Draco was truly his father's son. She felt his eyes on her before she even glanced toward the Slytherin table and when she met them they were so full of betrayal and loathing that it almost physically knocked her backwards. She knew how it looked to him. Like she'd chosen Harry and Ron over him, put herself in danger again when he'd bailed her out last time, and once again she hadn't considered his feelings. It only got worse when the Headmaster awarded herself, Ron, and Harry points at the Leaving Feast, allowing Gryffindor to steal the House cup from Slytherin at the very last moment. She felt sick with guilt. He wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't even look at her after that and by the time she debarked the train in London for the summer she was thoroughly depressed.
Author's note: thanks everybody for the faves, follows, and reviews as usual. The response to the last chapter was especially good, it made me so happy and was definitely motivating! In my head I called this chapter 'The More Things Change The More They Stay The Same,' but I think it's safe to say from here on out we'll be veering pretty far from canon, at least when it comes to Hermione, some events seemed destined to happen no matter what. Next up, the Malfoys find out Voldemort's not quite as dead as they'd hoped, and it it breaking my heart to write so leave me some encouragement, please! Thanks for reading!