Chapter 11
'His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, And his hair is as dark as a blackboard,' Hermione sang to herself as she trotted along toward the library, the tune was oddly catchy, but she still rolled her eyes as she remembered the musical valentine Ginny Weasley had sent her friend.
'What had the girl been thinking?' she wondered, 'Didn't she know how much that would humiliate Harry? Had she actually thought those were compliments?'
Hermione had tried to talk to the younger witch about her crush on more than one occasion over the past several months, but had never been successful. She suspected Ginny saw her as a rival for Harry's affections.
It was a shame. She would be happy to help Ginny actually get to know Harry. He could use more friends, and he would be more comfortable visiting Ron without having to endure his sister's hero worship.
Though today's disaster wasn't really Ginny's fault, she was just an eleven year old girl trying to get her crush's attention. No, for this, like so many other things over the course of this school year, she placed the blame squarely on the shoulders of Gilderoy Lockhart. Without his stupid Valentine's Day crusade and those awful dwarves, Ginny never would have had the opportunity to embarrass Harry in such a way. (Though, admittedly, she couldn't wait to write Narcissa about today's shenanigans, the witch would be comically appalled, but she still wished it hadn't happened.)
Truly, Lockhart was a walking disaster, a preening, self-involved, ridiculous disaster. More of an idiot even that she'd imagined when she'd read his books over the summer. She took his behavior as something of a personal affront, she did not take the sin of printing lies lightly, and she wanted to see him served his just desserts.
So she and Draco had formulated a plan and it had worked like a charm. She was so proud of the way they tag teamed the wizard in class with their oh-so-innocent questions about the claims he made in his books. Playing off each others thoughts and questions perfectly, but because it was coming from a Gryffindor and a Slytherin he never suspected they were working together. It had gotten to the point where he nearly trembled in fear whenever he saw one of them raise their hands. It was imminently satisfying. What was less satisfying was how few students saw through him, most continued to just see his face and his fame.
At that disappointing thought she reached the library and readjusted her bag on her shoulder. Raising her chin, she walked into the vast room. She was late to meet Draco in their turret room and didn't want to waste any time; she'd learned a lot about sneaking around in the last year, the primary lesson being that it was important to look like you were not sneaking around at all. If you moved with confidence nobody questioned you. And, as expected, she wasn't given a second look as she strode purposefully through the library.
After she pulled on the required book and murmured the password she quickly ducked through the opening in the wall. Draco was already there. But he wasn't studying or amusing himself in some other way, he wasn't even sitting with his eyes trained on the door just waiting for the opportunity to pounce and taunt her for being late. No, he was stretched out on the sofa fast asleep.
His robes were discarded, thrown over the back of the sofa. His bag tossed haphazardly to the floor, books and parchment spilling out of it. And on the coffee table in front of him was what appeared to be an elegantly wrapped present topped off with a pink rose. It was obviously a Valentine's Day gift.
Stupidly, she had not considered that somebody might send him something.
She nearly tripped over her own feet in shock, she had to drop her own bag to keep the weight of it from pulling her down. He sat up at the sound, clearly startled.
"Hermione?" he questioned, blinking at her slowly through heavy lids.
"Hi, sorry, dropped my bag," she said stupidly.
He reached out a hand to her, beckoning her towards him, but she could only stare at him. He looked so handsome like this, hair mussed, clothes rumpled; despite their close relationship she rarely saw him so disheveled. He was usually quite fastidious.
It was striking and that was disconcerting.
Because she'd never thought of him in that way before, he was just Draco, her best friend who happened to be a boy. Of course, she wasn't a fool. She'd heard the girls in her house talking. Though she was the odd one out in a dorm with two sets of best friends, she had ears. All of her roommates thought he was 'cute' and they were Gryffindors; which made him largely off limits to them, she could only imagine what the girls in other houses were saying.
She also couldn't bear the term 'cute,' at least for him. It was reserved for small animals, and maybe Harry with his messy hair and crooked smile. But not for the wizard before her. No, he was handsome, even at twelve. That fact had just never affected her personally before.
"You're sleeping?" she questioned, attempting to distract herself from her thoughts.
He was not a morning person but once he was awake he was a veritable ball of energy, she couldn't believe she'd caught him napping in the afternoon.
"Somebody set off a bunch of dungbombs in our dormitories last night, Snape would have had it cleared up straight away, but it somebody set it up so that the discovery of one triggered the next one to go off. I spent most of the night in the common room."
"That sucks," she commiserated.
"I don't suppose you would know anything about that?" he asked pointedly.
She sighed and gathered up her bag to walk fully into the room and collapse into an armchair.
"If a Gryffindor was responsible I'm certain I would have heard about it by now, the twins don't always take credit for their pranks but they would definitely have circulated the story anonymously if they had done it."
He nodded.
"Any reason you felt the need to taunt Ginny about that musical valentine she sent Harry?" she asked her own question.
In her opinion it had been unnecessary to point out Harry hadn't liked it, all Draco had done was just draw more attention to the situation, and increase everybody's embarrassment, he really could be such a git.
"That wasn't even a taunt, Hermione, I was just pointing out the obvious, the bloke was clearly uncomfortable," he said with faux innocence, actually pouting a little, "What is wrong with that girl? She has no sense of propriety."
Hermione secretly agreed, but it would do her no good to say as much, she had no intention of encouraging him.
"You enjoyed making them both squirm," she countered.
He shrugged, unconcerned.
"That doesn't make me wrong. And like either of them wouldn't take any opportunity they could to do the same to me," he retorted.
She sighed; he wasn't wrong. She couldn't expect him to be civil to her friends and not ask the same of them, which she was in no position to do. There was just so much animosity between them that it was impossible to regulate.
Especially since she could not appeal to her Gryffindor friends directly. So, the run ins were becoming a tedious, if predictable, routine between the two groups. She had at least convinced Draco to leave Neville alone, the poor boy was scared of his own shadow.
"You got a Valentine's Day present," she asked, gesturing to the gift atop the table, attempting to change the subject, but realizing too late that she'd walked into even more dangerous territory.
"Oh, that's for you," he said, almost offhandedly.
She was glad she was sitting, had she been standing she absolutely would have done something embarrassing like fall down in shock.
"It is?" she gasped.
"Don't look so surprised Hermione," he chided, "you're my best friend and Father says that a lady should always be treated specially on certain days. Today is one of those days."
Hermione didn't know what to make of that. She knew that Draco put great stock in what his father said, she did too, for that matter, he'd earned her respect. But she didn't know what it meant. Did he simply not want her to be left out of the Valentine's festivities? Or was it more?
And then she had another horrifying thought. Had he given another girl a present? A present that really meant something while just making a friendly gesture to her?
"What's wrong?" Draco asked, sounding genuinely alarmed.
She was ripped out of her thoughts by his voice. She looked around only to discover that she'd drawn her hands into fists and was tensed to pounce at the nearest threat. She could only imagine the expression on her face, one which she quickly schooled, though she knew it was too late, he'd seen it.
"Nothing," she hurriedly explained, letting be hands fall open and bare her palms in a gesture of innocence, "I was just thinking of Lockhart and how he's turned this school into a madhouse in one day," she tittered on; she was becoming a terribly good liar.
Thankfully he had no way of knowing her true thoughts and he bought it completely and laughed.
"What an idiot," he said each word with purpose, "Father told me to ask him to demonstrate the patronus charm in our next class, it's supposed to be notoriously difficult and he can't even round up a bunch of pixies. Not to mention that there's no documentation to indicate that a patronus can actually be used to drive away, must less capture, a flukeman like he claimed. Why does he make up such easily disprovable lies?"
"More rubbish from a Defense professor," she sighed in defeat.
"At least we're getting the better of this one," he said gleefully.
She giggled in response and thought of all the ways they'd gotten the better of Lockhart.
The elder Malfoys had helped tremendously. They could be very strict, but they were also increasingly feeling like the fun aunt and uncle everybody wished they had. They would not tolerate incompetence or laziness, and they held themselves and those that they loved to that standard, which she respected immensely.
And the way they encouraged herself and Draco had her appreciating the Slytherin mindset more and more. It felt revolutionary for her to think outside of the box. To consider the fact that people in positions of authority might not be the bastions of virtue she'd once believed them to be. After all, what had Dumbledore ever done other than award her a few House points, and with dubious reason. And not one professor at this school had ever protected her when she needed it.
Lucius and Narcissa were, at the very least, always there for her if she needed something. And they were not above encouraging mischief when appropriate. They had sent her the most gorgeous scarf in Gryffindor colors as a reward for flustering Lockhart so completely that he'd dismissed class early for three class periods in a row. She knew Lucius had been battling for the man's removal from his teaching post with little success, apparently nobody wanted the job, so in the meantime he and his wife supported the guerrilla warfare she and their son were waging.
Draco handed her the prettily wrapped box which she could only stare at, "are you going to open it?" he asked.
"Of course," she quickly shook herself.
She carefully removed the rose, with every intention of discreetly saving it, untied the bow, and undid the wrapping.
"So careful," he chuckled.
She shrugged and touched the place where the compact he'd given her for Christmas, equally carefully unwrapped, was safely tucked in the breast pocket of her robes.
She'd been so proud of the discovery of their room, but she had to admit it paled in comparison to what he'd presented her with as a Christmas present. She had merely gotten lucky, he'd been almost unbelievably thoughtful. It was an elegant silver compact engraved with her initials. She'd initially been dismayed that he'd believed her so superficial, until she read his note which explained its true purpose: a communication mirror, and he possessed its twin.
He had had the compact commissioned just for her, and then he'd charmed it, with his mother's help using a Black family spell, to be able to communicate with the one he had made for himself. She had been glad he'd owled her the gift for her to open on Christmas morning rather than waiting until he could watch her open it himself, or she was certain she would have made a fool of herself. There had been tears and she was grateful only her parents had been there to witness them.
Now she talked to him every night before bed, tucked safely away behind her silenced bed curtains. It was so nice to be able to contact him discreetly and whenever she wanted. Because secret place to meet or not, sometimes they simply didn't have the opportunity to get away and it had felt lonely to see him across a classroom or the Great Hall and be unable to speak to him.
She finally opened the box of this most recent present, it was filled, as she had assumed, with chocolates, but they were the most beautifully decorated chocolates she'd ever seen. These were not sweets he'd picked up from Honeydukes, these were miniature works of art. He knew how she loved chocolate despite her parents feelings about sweets. Yet another incredibly sweet gesture.
"I asked Father for some recommendations, Mother isn't wild about chocolate, so he wrote to Aunt Adele, the French make the best chocolate, you know," he explained uncertainly, and she realized she'd just been staring at the gift for far too long.
She physically shook herself again and tried to appear calm while internally, she was throwing a pitching screaming fit. Because they were just best friends, which was wonderful, and she wouldn't trade it for the world. But it also meant that, if not today, one day another witch would be on the receiving end of his sweet gestures. How could she ever share him? She couldn't. He was hers.
Oh sweet Merlin.
He was hers, what was she thinking?!
She was in so much trouble.
She looked at him and gave him a brittle smile, "thank you Draco, they're so pretty and I bet they're delicious. That was really thoughtful of you."
He relaxed slightly at her words, and while she wanted to stay with him and reassure him further, just spend time with him, she knew she couldn't at the moment. She stood up and leaned over to give him a rather wooden hug, being sure to hold her body away from his as much as possible.
She avoided his eyes as she pulled away, "I've just remembered I told Neville I'd help him revise for potions, I have to meet him in the common room."
She refused to look at him as she quickly, but with great care when it came to her present, gathered her things, and fled the room.
So much for being a good liar.
How was she going to face him again, knowing what she now knew? She'd have to find a way, she would not lose him.
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Narcissa apparated into the Grangers back garden, to her usual spot between the shed and the fence where she was safe from being spotted by unsuspecting muggles. She strode to the back door only to watch it be thrown open before she could even reach it. Helen stood in the doorway smiling at her, she was, of course, right on time.
"Narcissa!" the other woman greeted enthusiastically.
She pecked her on both cheeks in greeting.
"It's always lovely to see you Helen."
"Come on in," she responded, leading her into the now familiar living room, "please have a seat and tell me how Greece was!"
They tried to meet at least bi-monthly for lunch or tea, shopping if they had time. But she and Lucius had been out of the country for nearly three weeks and so it had been almost a full month since they'd gotten together.
Narcissa now considered Helen to be a good friend. But their meetings had started with Narcissa acting as something of a translator for Helen, and by extension her husband, to the magical world. Hermione was a deeply committed correspondent, but no matter how detailed her letters, there was context she wouldn't think or couldn't know to include for her parents that Narcissa provided. She had nurtured the connection for Hermione's sake, and because she believed they were good people, even if they weren't exactly her kind of people.
She had never expected to get anything in return. She now saw how deeply arrogant that had been. Helen offered her something she'd rarely experienced in her life: true friendship and a different perspective, just over a year into their acquaintance and the woman was a trusted confidant. So, she was not surprised by her first question, and she knew the other woman was not expecting to be relegated by glamorous holiday tales, but genuinely intrigued to hear about what she'd discovered in Greece.
"I spent nearly the entire fortnight and a half shut away in the library, honestly I thought constantly of Hermione and how jealous she'll be when I tell her. It was fascinating, but tedious."
Helen chuckled in understanding, "Did you find anything?" she wondered.
"Nothing obvious, I have copious notes, I've just begun the process of editing and organizing them, but it's anybody's guess if it amounts to anything."
She and Lucius were running into dead ends all over the British Isles in terms of information gathering on the Dark Lord and how he'd survived Halloween of 1981. Even her husband's contacts on the continent, who theoretically should have been less afraid of the Dark Lord than those at home, either knew nothing, or weren't talking about his whereabouts or his powers.
They'd managed to cajole Severus into coming for a meal at the Manor a couple of times, despite his concerted efforts to duck their invitations. It had become clear that gaining his trust would be an even longer game than they'd imagined. Though, Narcissa hadn't helped their campaign. She was ashamed to admit that Lucius had practically had to drag her out of the room to keep her from punching the man in his crooked nose over his description of Hermione, it was embarrassingly Gryffindor of her, and she knew she'd only made him more suspicious of them with her reaction.
So, she and Lucius had decided to focus their attention for the time being on their more cerebral tasks: research into blood magic, connective magic that might lend any clues to understanding and eliminating the Dark Mark, and, to a lesser extent soul magic. Though Narcissa had largely kept that last one to herself, it was even more taboo and more esoteric than blood magic, but she was convinced that Draco and Hermione were connected down to their very souls, and she wanted to know anything she could about it, if only just to hide it from anybody who might seek to exploit or harm them.
In search of knowledge they'd gone to Greece. The ancient Athenians had been vociferous in their search for knowledge, and they'd not limited that search to just their specific western brand of magic. They accumulated a magnificent library, added to in the centuries since that time, though occasionally rather neglected, but it was still almost without parallel.
Unfortunately, the modern Greeks were as intent on hoarding their knowledge as their ancient counterparts had been to accumulate it. It had taken Lucius months to get access to the famed archives under the Acropolis. He'd had to formulate new business relations in Greece to excuse the trip and account for the amount of time they had intended to spend in the country. So, as far as research went, she'd largely been on her own while he tended to this manufactured business.
Helen made an appropriately consoling noise, "were you at least able to wrangle some romantic time with your husband? Greece is so beautiful."
"There were some lovely evenings," she said with a smirk and a wink.
They were interrupted by Dobby popping in, carrying a tea service.
"Mistress Narcissa," he greeted with a bow, and then stood unflinching, tall and proud.
"Dobby, it's always good to see you," she responded with a smile, happy and unafraid, he was a different elf.
He arranged their tea for them and then with a bow for his mistress and another for Narcissa, he was gone.
"Things were lovely in Greece. Lucius and I were able to spare some time to be together and though we've visited before, it's always nice to have the opportunity to explore further. I am lucky, or so I am told, that my husband is very thoughtful," she specified her earlier answer.
"Your friends are rubbish," Helen tutted, and then she winced, "that was perhaps a bit harsh."
Helen knew that the people Narcissa was referring to when she said she'd been told her husband was thoughtful were the jealous society wives that Narcissa unfortunately spent far too much time with.
Narcissa laughed, "no you sound like your daughter, always refreshingly honest. And you're right, except I can no longer be sure that I consider any of the people I associate with to truly be my friends."
"I'm sorry," Helen responded sincerely.
"It is what it is. I should know better, I've had true friends in the past, my sister Andromeda firstly. It was out of my control at the time, but I regret her loss deeply. And my best friend at Hogwarts, Marguerite, she died suddenly and unexpectedly of Doxy Influenza more than five years ago. Her son Theodore and Draco are the same age, in the same house at Hogwarts and yet they hardly know each other…" she trailed off wistfully.
"Narcissa, that's terrible,"
She could only shrug in faux nonchalance.
"It's true to an extent in the circles I run in as well," Helen admitted, "I'm ashamed to say I'm more readily accepted now that Hermione is off at school, it's easier for them to ignore how odd they found her now that she's out of sight."
"Poor child," Narcissa reflected quietly, she didn't blame the Grangers, she couldn't begin to imagine how it must have felt to be in their position, but she knew it must have been terrible not understanding what was happening with your child, but she ached to think about the way Hermione had most likely suffered through her first eleven years.
"You're right, we should endeavor to do better by this generation, encourage true friendships and tolerance…" she trailed off thoughtfully.
"We should," Narcissa agreed, but internally she was cringing at the tolerance comment.
"Which reminds me of something I wanted to discuss with you."
"Oh?"
"I was initially hesitant to bring it up, I don't want to break Hermione's confidence, but I know that she trusts you and that his won't go beyond this room anyway."
Narcissa nodded in agreement, touched by her confidence.
"I think she's realized that her feelings for Draco are more than just friendship, and she's struggling. I get the impression that she's terrified of losing him more than anything."
"Has she said as much?"
"No, but I can read between the lines."
"I had actually gathered the same thing. But I wouldn't worry, at least about Draco's reaction. I assure you he feels the same way."
She thought she saw relief in her eyes but couldn't be sure of it before her attention was diverted by her husband entering the room. Narcissa would normally consider Richard to be a good looking man; taller than average and he'd kept himself fit despite being nearly a decade her senior, and a muggle at that. He still had a thick head of curly chestnut hair-Hermione had him to thank for that particular trait, to be sure- and striking blue eyes.
Except he was dressed in the strangest outfit that made him look slightly ridiculous. White trousers and a brightly colored top, he appeared to be headed out. Helen didn't seem to find anything odd about it.
"Hello love, hello Narcissa," he greeted, "I'm off now. You ladies have a good afternoon," he stopped alongside Helen and bent to kiss her.
He strolled out casually.
"Where did you say he was going again?" Narcissa asked, her eyes following that bright shirt out of the room.
"To play golf."
Narcissa remembered now, Richard had tried to explain the game to her once. She'd tried to act appropriately interested, but she left the conversation completely baffled how as to how that was an activity that one would find enjoyable. Especially for an intelligent man like Richard Granger.
Helen flicked her eyes to hers momentarily before she began to laugh, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make fun of you, it's just the look on your face, I know how you feel, after twenty years I still only understand it slightly better than that."
Narcissa shook her head ruefully, it was unlike her to allow her thoughts to show so plainly. Though it was nice that she knew she could trust Helen.
"Back to Hermione and Draco, though."
Narcissa nodded.
"Do you think that we should be concerned? They are awfully young. And they are so close, Hermione has certainly never had another friend like Draco. What if they decide to give a relationship a try and it doesn't work out? I know what you've said about their connection, but nothing's guaranteed. And like I said, they're so young…"
Narcissa sat back and contemplated this.
"I don't think I've ever told you that Lucius and I have actually been together since we were about their age. And we were actually betrothed at 14, since the end of my third year and Lucius' fourth. I'm aware that they are a very different pair from Lucius and I, but I say this because ours is not an unusual story within our community. I believe that it's partially a cultural difference, but there is also the fact that we have magic, which is an extra sense that often leads us to a compatible life mate at a you age."
Helen seemed to absorb this information.
"It's difficult," she said thoughtfully, "I can see what magic can do, and it's results, but I've obviously never experienced what it truly feels like. So I hear what you're saying, but it's just so hard to understand."
Narcissa's heart went out to the other woman.
"Perhaps over the holidays we can talk to Hermione. And perhaps Lucius could speak to Draco as well. Caution them at least to treat their friendship with care and assess what they're thinking."
Helen nodded, "I would feel better at least addressing the issue. I remember what it was like to be thirteen, it's a confusing time and I wouldn't want them to lose sight of what's important in the face of teenage drama."
Narcissa nodded, it was clearly difficult for Helen to sit on the sidelines, not that she blamed her. She would be miserable in her shoes. And that made her think.
"Helen," she said after a moment's consideration, "would you possibly be interested in helping me organize and catalogue my notes and other materials from Greece?"
She saw the woman's eyes light up and knew she'd hit upon something. She should have considered it before. Hermione now spent most of her free time at Malfoy Manor, the Grangers couldn't teach her about magic or magical society. They understood the necessity and had been almost effusive in their thanks to herself and Lucius, but it was natural that they feel left out and scared, knowing their daughter was in danger.
"Would I be helpful though, not being a witch?" Helen asked hopefully.
"You wouldn't have the background to do any analysis, but organizing and cataloging the information, I think you could be very helpful with that. It would save me a lot of time, it's a lot to go through."
"I'd be happy to help then," she said cheerfully.
They sat there for a few moments, just enjoying their tea.
"Thank you Narcissa," Helen said quietly.
She looked up and met her eyes and knew that magic or not, mother to mother they understood each other.
Author's note: This chapter didn't want to be written so I hope it's okay. I think it's because I'm distracted trying to plot year three. So I thought I'd ask for some help! As well as your thoughts on this chapter I'd love to hear what you guys think of Sirius as a character. He's giving me fits, I need an outside perspective. Thank you wonderful readers!