Chapter 14: A Vanilla Latte Named Bob
A/N: Something a little different in this chapter: we get to see what's going on from Harry's, Narcissa's, and Tonk's point of view! Should be a good bit of fun, but long chapter ahead. Hope you enjoy!
Sunday, May 7, 2000
"Knock knock!" Harry called out into the darkness as he emerged from the floo into Hermione's apartment. It was nearly pitch black despite the early hour of the day due to the window shades that fully obscured any sunlight from permeating the space.
"Hermione?" he called again, moving towards the stairs once his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw that she was nowhere to be found on the bottom floor. A soft meow from above let him know that at least Crookshanks was up there.
Lighting the tip of his wand to help him navigate any hazardous objects in his path, Harry crept up to the loft. If Hermione was sleeping he didn't want to wake her.
"Hermione..." She wasn't sleeping. She was lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. It was eerily remniscent of the time she'd been petrified by a Basilisk.
"Pansy told you what happened I suppose?" she croaked, her voice cracked and oddly pitched.
"Er... I did speak to Pansy, yes." It wasn't a lie. He had spoken to Pansy to get her version of events late last night, but she wasn't strictly speaking who had first told Harry what had happened.
Draco Malfoy, of all people, had shown up at his home (apparently being a relation of the Black family gave him special floo privileges into Grimmauld Place), and calmly as you please he'd asked for Harry's assistance with a murder. Theo Nott had then fallen out of the floo behind him and explained about Marc. Harry had been horrified to hear how Hermione had been manipulated and agreed that Marc needed to be forcibly removed from Hermione's life to ensure he wouldn't keep stringing her along, though he'd managed to talk Malfoy down from homicide.
The fact that Hermione was even seeing someone had been news to Harry, and he'd felt truly wretched that this had all been going on under his nose. Yet another instance of Hermione being taken advantage of while he'd been too stupid and distracted to see it.
"Am I just a completely rubbish judge of character?" Hermione questioned miserably.
Harry thought through the myriad ways he could answer that question honestly, but decided she needed support right now more than a lecture. "Of course not," he cooed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and stroking her hair away from her face. "You're certainly not the first girl to be fooled by a handsome face, and I'm sure you won't be the last."
"But I'm Hermione Granger..."
"Yes, you are," Harry chuckled.
"I'm supposed to be logical, and responsible, and...and far too clever to be taken in by pretty lies."
"You are all those things. Just because this happened to you doesn't change that."
"It's not just this one time though! Once is a happenstance. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern." Harry got the sense that she was quoting something, but had no idea what. It was a familiar feeling for him when in Hermione's presence. "I should probably just never date again."
"Well, if you're counting Gilderoy Lockhart among your examples of poor target selection in the pursuit of love I can hardly argue with you there." This made Hermione laugh, which had been Harry's goal. "But Krum's a nice bloke. You were with him for a while, and even though it didn't work out, you made very good choices the whole time. As for Ron, well, he fooled me too, so we share that burden. Don't let a couple bad experiences make you doubt yourself."
Hermione wasn't wholly convinced. He could tell because she was chewing the corner of her bottom lip like she did whenever she was unsure of something. "What if I'm still making mistakes? What if I'm putting my trust in people who will hurt me one day? Pansy, and Theo, and Malfoy... they're pureblood Slytherins who once supported Voldemort. On paper, I shouldn't want to be anywhere near them. Am I insane to be their friend??"
Hermione's confidence must have sunk to hiterhto unplumbed depths for her to be having these kinds of second thoughts. Harry recalled the verbal thrashing she'd given him when he expressed doubts about her friendship with Pansy in eigth year, how adamant she'd been that they both testify at Malfoy's trial, and her intense disapproval after Harry had punched Theo. She had always preached about prejudice being intolerable in any circumstance, and chastised anyone who would listen about making judgements based on superficial traits like blood status or Hogwarts House. The Hermione of one week ago would have argued circles around anyone who dared to question any one of her friendships.
More than all that though, as much as it pained him to admit, Harry was certain that these particular pureblood, Slytherin, former Voldemort-supporters would never hurt her. It was an odd feeling to harbor, but it was true. He'd seen first-hand how fiercely protective the trio were about Hermione, last night especially... but she'd probably hex him if he told her what they'd been up to yesterday so he'd try to assuage her fear another way instead.
"You know... I can think of several examples of you being a great judge of character actually..."
"Really?"
"Of course! Remember in first year when you refused to believe that Snape was trying to kill me? Well, you were right weren't you? Even though he was a right git to us most of the time, you didn't let that make you think he was evil."
"I still set him on fire in the quidditch stands..."
"A minor transgression," Harry made a dismissive gesture, "and you were influenced by my suspicions that he was up to something, I'm sure. Anyway, then there was third year, and you trusted Remus even after you found out he was a werewolf! Most people would have written him off as a dark creature, but you saw him as the fantastic professor he was."
"I did briefly think he'd been helping Sirius try to kill you though..."
"Yes, but only briefly. We figured out you'd been right all along very quickly. Oh, and Crookshanks!" Harry suddenly remembered how Crookshanks had been trying to help them catch Scabbers/Wormtail that whole year. He suspected Crookshanks was in fact literally nudging him to give due credit as he was fervently headbutting Harry's hand. The cat-kneazle was intelligent in that way. "You knew Crookshanks would be a great judge of character himself and if we'd just listened to you maybe Crookshanks would've eaten Wormtail and saved us a lot of trouble."
"Gross... eating an animagus might've given poor Crooks indigestion."
"Oh! Oh! Same year, you knew that Sirius had been the one to send me my Firebolt!"
"Harry..." Hermione gave a strange groaning-laugh. He knew these were mostly ridiculous examples of her competency, but he had a larger point.
"What I'm trying to say is that you've been annoyingly right more often than not. It's kind of a defining characteristic for you. You're not perfect, and you've been wrong a couple of times, but you're not wrong about Pansy or Theo or even Malfoy."
"You can't be sure of that..."
"I am sure," Harry insisted, but knew there was nothing for it. He was going to have to come clean about their field trip, for the sake of Hermione's peace of mind that she'd placed her faith in the right people. Hopefully, if he was quick enough about brushing past the unsavory bits, she'd appreciate the inherent goodness behind the gesture. "I, uh... actually have a confession to make..."
"What did you do?" she turned a sharp glare on him immediately.
"Uh...Malfoy came and asked for my help last night..."
"Help with what?" Her eyes narrowed further.
"He needed me to look up Marc's address in the auror database."
"Oh Harry, tell me you didn't..."
"Uh... sorry... we definitely did. But I told Malfoy no violence! I knew you wouldn't want us to do that!"
"So you just what? Went over to Marc's place and had tea??"
"We just wanted to make sure that he would leave you alone! Guys like that like to keep girls like you around for if they're feeling..."
"Oh my god..." Hermione buried her face in her hands, but she was no more embarrassed than Harry, who couldn't even bring himself to finish that sentence in front of a girl he thought of as his sister.
He coughed. "Yes, well, anyway... he didn't have honorable intentions with you. We confirmed that while we were over there and then deleted your number from his phone."
"Is that all? You still look awfully guilty for that to be all."
Harry squirmed. "Theo also blew up his phone..."
"And?"
"And threats of bodily harm if he ever contacted you again may have been implied..."
Hermione just lifted one eyebrow and stared him down until he couldn't take it anymore.
"And... I let Malfoy punch Marc in the face... but just one time!" he hastened to add when he heard her immediately exclaim 'Harry!'. "I'm telling you all this because I want you to understand that you're not wrong about them. They all care about you. Malfoy risked his probation because of you, and Theo's still on thin ice too."
"I didn't think of that," Hermione wrung her hands with anxiety.
"They'll be fine. I offered to be Malfoy's alibi if Marc tries to file a complaint, but I don't think he will..." Harry was almost positive that Marc understood what the consequences would be, but he'd be happy to reinforce the lesson if needed. "The important part is the fact that they were willing to make sure you were taken care of despite all that. That's good enough for me to trust Theo and Malfoy to have your best interests at heart. And I don't think you need me to vouch for Pansy, because let's be honest, it wasn't really her you were worried about, was it?"
"No... we're well past that... but my friendships with Theo and Malfoy are... newer. And I don't know what to think anymore. My head's all over the place."
"I get it. For what it's worth, I think you're going to be okay."
"I just can't believe they went to you for help... and after all the horrible stuff I shouted at them defending Marc. I probably owe them an apology."
"Maybe... I probably owe Theo an apology too come to think of it. We could apologize together if that helps?"
"Thanks, Harry," she gave him a gentle smile. It wasn't as bright and toothy as it usually was, but she'd get there in time.
"And please promise me that you won't go back to Marc yourself after we went through all that trouble."
"I won't, I promise," Hermione said with a large sigh. "Pansy set me straight after the boys left her house last night--apparently to go find you..." she shook her head in disbelief. "I think I was just in shock at first and it was less painful to tell myself that there might be hope of getting back together with Marc someday, but I know I'm better off without him."
Harry was so relieved to hear her say that. The way Pansy had described Hermione's initial reaction to the break-up seemed like ostrich-head-in-the-sand levels of denial. It was all part of the grief curve he supposed.
"Sorry, though, you don't have to sit here and baby me. I should eat something and then start getting ready for work. I'm on shift at the bookstore today. Shouldn't you be heading to the Weasleys for Sunday lunch?"
"Oh er... I haven't had a chance to tell you yet, but Ginny and I also broke up..."
"Harry, what?!" Hermione's screech startled Crookshanks into a hiss of displeasure before he trotted to the foot of the bed where he could lounge undisturbed.
"Yeah... we broke up just after we got home from St. Mungo's on Friday. We were actually kind of in the middle of breaking up when Arthur's patronus arrived to summon us to the hospital. It was a bit uncomfortable putting that on hold to welcome a baby into the world, let me tell you."
"But I don't understand! You guys are so in love! Why did you break up? Do I need to punch Ginny in the face??"
Harry laughed, but shook his head. "No, she doesn't deserve to be punched. The break-up was mutual. We just want different things in life."
"She doesn't want to be blissfully happy with you forever?? Yes, I can see how that would be a life worth hesitating to sign up for," she poured a hefty dose of sarcasm into her words (she was spending too much time with Slytherins), but he appreciated the loyalty.
"She doesn't want kids. I do. Simple as that."
"She doesn't want kids?" The wind went out of Hermione's sails upon hearing this news.
"It's better to find out now so that we can both go find what we're looking for with someone else," Harry shrugged. He was definitely projecting more calm than he actually felt about the situation, but he didn't want to add to Hermione's troubles.
"You can't seriously be okay with this?" Ah, he should've known that she wouldn't buy it.
"Well, no, I'm a mess about it, but you don't have to worry about me when you're going through stuff too."
"Don't give me that, Harry. We can be messes together."
She leaned forward and gripped him in a bear hug with a strength that belied her size. They sat there together supporting each other in silence for a few minutes of peace.
"There's someone out there for you, Hermione. Someone who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated."
"And how do I deserve to be treated?" she teased.
Well, if she was feeling well enough to fish for compliments, he could go back to playing his role of annoying little brother. "Very carefully if he'd like to keep his bollocks attached to his--mmph!" She'd slammed a pillow into his face before he could finish. Spitting out a feather, and putting his arms up in defense, Harry pled for a ceasefire. "I brought an offering for the pillow warrior if she'll accept it?"
"Oh?" Hermione halted her pillow-wielding arm mid-arc, willing to hear him out.
"Ice cream!"
"Ooh what flavor?" Success. Hermione laid down her weapon and sat up with interest.
"Strawberry, of course."
"The fake kind or the kind with the real strawberries in?"
"The fake kind... although it's bizarre that you prefer that. I left it downstairs so the plastic bag wouldn't crinkle and wake you up."
"I wasn't sleeping."
"I know that now, but given that you were holed up in an apartment darker than Voldemort's soul, the assumption that you were trying to take a nap wasn't unreasonable."
"Oh, right." With a wave of her wand the window shades rose and brought the mid-morning sun streaming into the apartment. Another beautiful summer day.
Narcissa loathed summer. It was hot and sweaty, and being in the city with so many people and the rotting stench of garbage made her homesick for the Manor in a way that little else ever had. Paris was no better than London in this regard, but she still continued living there in her quasi-self-imposed isolation to avoid the consequences of her family's war-time actions and affiliations. It was cowardly to leave her son behind to deal with it all alone, but Draco was strong. He could handle it. And maybe she could convince him to join her permanently in Paris once his probation ended. Just a few more weeks and he'd be free to leave the country.
This was Narcissa's main agenda in coming to London today. Draco had requested this visit, which was odd as he usually preferred to come to her Paris residence, but she planned to steer the conversation towards her goal no matter what it was that Draco intended to discuss. She may not have approved of Lucius's... profession, but she'd learned a few things about the art of persuasion while at his side all those years.
A bell jingled above the doorway as she stepped across the threshold into the coffee shop that Draco had selected for their rendezvous: New Horizons Café. He'd warned her it was muggle so that she would be dressed appropriately (Draco had been thoughtful enough to send a detailed dress code, but she'd be damned before she ever wore jeans), and she had agreed that it would be bad news to meet in Diagon Alley. Still, she didn't expect how out of place she would feel here. This was her first foray into muggle London and she was about as comfortable as a mermaid on land.
Shuffling aside to allow the harried morning commuters access to the shop, Narcissa observed her surroundings from the corner to determine her plan of attack. It appeared that there was no wait staff at this establishment, certainly there was no maitre d' to seat her, so how did these muggles place their order?
'Well, there's the menu,' she thought wryly, catching sight of the oversized black chalkboard with the shop's offerings scrawled in an untidy hand looming over the back wall. Did muggles have difficulty reading small print? Why was it up there?
She quietly observed as a young woman approximately Draco's age walked up to a counter beneath the blackboard menu. She had shockingly blue hair. Was she a metamorphmagus? Was that allowed in a muggle area? The blue-haired girl must have decided what she wanted and spoke her order to a young man on the other side of the counter. A cook? He was wearing a green apron, but he only pushed some buttons on a strange apparatus before him, then called out for the next person to place their order. The blue-haired girl then moved to the right where a cluster of other people were waiting.
A cup of coffee and a croissant were placed near the waiting area and a chatting elderly couple went to grab them. 'I see, once you retrieve your items, you seat youself. How modern,' Narcissa thought as she watched the pair settle into metal chairs around a matching metal table by the front window.
Draco was late, she realized anxiously. She'd never been able to break him of that habit even as a boy and she knew that if she hoped to relieve herself of awkwardly standing in the entrance she would need to make a move without him.
But this was ridiculous. She was Narcissa Malfoy! She'd looked Voldemort in the eye, lied, and lived, so surely she could manage to place an order in a muggle coffee house. This would be a doddle.
With feigned bravado, she lifted her chin and strode forward to join the queue in front of the Apron Man and awaited her turn.
"How can I help you today?" Apron Man asked pleasantly.
"Yes, er... I'd like a vanilla latte... um... please." Narcissa was mortified. She hadn't stumbled over her words so much since she was a child being rapped over her knuckles and told to enunciate and speak clearly by her etiquette tutor. Miss Auclair had been a horrible woman, but her lessons ran deep.
"Tall, Grande, or Venti?" he queried, but for all the galleons in the Malfoy vault Narcissa didn't have the foggiest idea what he meant by it.
"Tall?" she took a wild guess. It was the only English word of the three. Perhaps this shop catered frequently to foreigners and had different options for them.
"For here or to go?"
She was tempted to answer 'to go' so that she could flee the premises, but answered, "For here, please."
"And could I get a name for the order?"
Narcissa panicked. She was expected to name her order? What stange customs muggles had. "Bob," she blurted out, not knowing why that was the first name to pop into her head. She didn't know anyone named Bob. Apron Man looked at her strangely. Customers were probably much more creative usually, but he was kind enough not to comment.
"Thank you, that'll be £2.40."
"Oh, yes..." If she'd been panicking before, Narcissa was now at the point of a mental breakdown. She hadn't thought to bring any muggle money with her! Digging in her purse she tried to stall for time when she felt a hand at her elbow and looked up.
"I've got it, mother."
Oh thank heavens, Draco had arrived just on time. She watched with thinly veiled relief as he handed over some strange colorful bits of paper and placed an order for himself.
"Sorry I'm late," he grinned in that mischievous way that always used to get him out of trouble as he led them to a table near the back.
"I've come to expect it of you," she sniffed, gathering the shreds of her dignity to herself and reapplying her usual proud demeanor.
"Thank you for meeting me here. I've been meaning to talk to you about something." It was unusually sincere and direct, behavior not typical of Malfoy men, and so Narcissa found herself leaning in to scrutinize her son's face. Was he ill? Being threatened? In love? Those were the only things she could think of that could cause wild shifts in personality. "I've been attending a muggle university for the past year."
Oh.
Well, Narcissa certainly hadn't been expecting that.
"Without my wand there wasn't much I could do with myself anyway, so this felt like a productive use of my time," Draco rambled on without waiting for her reaction, which was good as she couldn't muster one just yet. "Even after I get my wand back I plan to finish my studies. It's a three year course in chemistry and I think it'll make me a more thoughtful potioneer to understand muggle principles of the natural world. That's what I think I'd like to do as a career actually, potions. It might be good for the Malfoy name to do something not connected to the Ministry and you know I never really had the same inclinations towards politics that Father had. Maybe I'll be able to open an apothecary someday? I could have a branch in London and one in Paris, and I'll still visit you all the time. Or you could move back here? People might be able to forgive and forget. I've recently become friends with Hermione Granger and it makes me think there might be hope for reconciliation generally if she can look past being carved open by Aunt Bella in our home. I mean, she has more reason than most to hate me, but she doesn't seem to hate me at all. She's really quite nice, maybe a bit too nice to be honest, it gets her in trouble, and I... sorry, I didn't ask you here to talk about Granger. I wanted to tell you about my university course and I have. So... what do you think?"
Draco finally stopped his monolgue and lifted his beautiful, gray eyes to meet hers. He clearly expected her to be upset. He was nervously bouncing his leg up and down, shaking the table and rattling their cups, and the muscle in his jaw that always jumped when he was agitated was working in full force.
How had they gotten to this point? How could her baby boy believe that she'd prioritize pureblood ideology over him? Draco was her reason for everything. She may still be mostly ignorant of muggles, but she couldn't let Draco think that she didn't support him being a better person than her. It was her dearest wish in fact that he should succeed where she'd failed.
And she had failed many times, but she couldn't fail him now.
"I think that's wonderful, Draco."
"You...do?"
Narcissa reached across the table to grasp his hand, which was slowly unclenching from the tight fist he'd been making. "I don't care what you want to do with your life, only that you get to live it."
"You don't care that I'm learning muggle things?"
Narcissa shook her head.
"Or that I'm living in muggle London?"
Narcissa hadn't known that, but she stopped herself from questioning whether that was safe (her instinct that muggles were dangerous would probably be seen as bigoted) and only shook her head again.
"Or... what if I wanted to date a muggle?"
Her jaw nearly dropped on the floor, but again she restrained herself. She had the suspicion that he was asking this as a test, maybe because he was already dating a muggle. She wouldn't repeat the same mistakes she'd made with Andromeda.
"I would be... fine with that. As long as you're happy, I'll be happy."
She could tell that she'd shocked Draco to his core as he sat back in his chair digesting her newfound open-mindedness.
"Are you..." Narcissa tentatively thought through how to ask what she wanted to without sending the wrong message. "Are you seeing a muggle girl now?"
"No," Narcissa breathed a secret sigh of relief. She wasn't certain she was ready for all that just yet. "I have dated muggles, but no one currently. I just wanted to see how far your tolerance would extend."
Ah, so she'd been right. It had been a test. This whole outing was likely a test to see how she'd handle being around muggles. It was no less than she deserved.
"I've been reflecting on tolerance a lot these days," she admitted, taking a deep sip of her latte. "I know it's no excuse, but I was taught... well, you know what I was taught because I turned around and taught you the same things. I lost so much by upholding those teachings, and it absolutely wasn't worth it. What I mean to say is that I'm so proud of you for who you're growing up to be."
"Thanks, mum."
Narcissa's heart gave an almighty squeeze. He hadn't called her mum since he was small enough to carry. She hadn't realized until that moment how much she'd missed it. She wanted him to say it again. Maybe he would if he could see that she was putting in the effort to change.
"I've been writing to my sister actually."
"Aunt Andromeda?"
"Yes, I was hoping... well, she has a daughter several years older than you, and now a grandson, and I thought... it would be nice if the family could have a reunion of sorts."
"What did she say?"
"She said she'd ask Nymphadora, that's her daughter's name, and maybe we could plan a picnic sometime this summer."
"Wow, so I'll get to meet my cousins?"
Narcissa had been smiling with satisfaction in boasting about her progress, but Draco's hopeful words made her expression crumble. Why had she thought it would be a good idea to bring this up? This would only hurt Draco.
"Maybe... but Nymphadora has... reservations about allowing her son to meet you."
It was the worst kind of torture to watch Draco go rigid with tension.
"Nymphadora just doesn't understand!" she said desperately. "I'll tell her none of it was your fault and she'll see..."
"It's fine, mother," Draco stood and brushed the non-existent crumbs from his trousers. "I actually have to be getting to the library. I have an assignment due tomorrow that isn't finished."
"Yes, of course, I hope I'll see you again soon?"
Draco nodded but didn't meet her eye or hug her before walking away. The bell above the shop door jingled again and he was gone.
Narcissa felt foolish. This was all her fault, and she didn't know how to fix it.
Monday, May 8, 2000
Tonks was out of leads, out of budget, and out of patience. The Hermione Granger Protection Unit (or the HGPU as it was known, and unfortunately often pronounced as the HG-poo) had made no progress on tracking Dolohov or Greyback.
There had been a sighting of both of them sniffing around St. Mungo's a few days ago, but no one had seen where they'd run off to after that. Fergie's original idea of finding a friendly werewolf to help track Greyback's scent had been a good one in theory, but in practice it seemed that no one wanted to get involved once they realized who they would be tracking. Gutless, the lot of them. If Remus were still alive... but no, she shouldn't go down that road.
In any event, it didn't seem like Dolohov or Greyback had anything to do with the mysterious portkey that abducted Hermione. Tonks still couldn't even determine what the purpose of the portkey had been. Why send her to Theodore Nott? Was it just a strange and elaborate prank? Yet, it seemed an unbelievable coincidence that this mysterious portkey would show up on the same day that Greyback and Dolohov were sighted in the area.
"Miss Tonks?" a timid knock against her open door startled her from her thoughts.
"Fergie, what is it?"
"There have been a few more sightings of our suspects in that same area of Upper Flagley over the weekend."
"Such a sleepy little wizarding village... nothing but a retirement home for the elderly there to my memory," Tonks scratched her head, which was currently morphed to look bald and gleaming in the fluorescent light of her office. She was working off a theory that hair got in the way of brainwaves from a fascinating article she'd recently read in the Quibbler. "Were you able to dig up the records of who still lives up that way?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Anyone you think our suspects would be trying to make contact with?"
"Not especially..." Fergie handed over a thin folder. Flipping it open she could see that it contained only two sheets of parchment. "The only magical residents remaining in that village are the the scattered remnants of the Clokes family and a girl name Lavender Brown. The St. Oswald's home for Old Witches and Wizards closed down several years ago."
"Let's interview all of them then. I want to understand why our perps are going back and forth between Upper Flagley and London. There must be something that interests them up there."
"Yes, ma'am." Fergie retreated from the room with his marching orders allowing Tonks to return to her brooding.
What in the hell should she do next?
A/N: I loved writing a softer side of Draco in this chapter! Granted, how he seems through his mother's eyes is a bit rose-tinted, but I can't picture him being as prickly and rude with her as he is with his friends.
Also, I spent a lot of time these past few days working on my plot outline. I have everything worked out through the end of Act 2, with loose threads defining Act 3 (the final act), so feeling really good about how to bring it all together. Heads up that this is looking like it'll hit 45 total chapters and close to 200k words at my current pace. I won't commit fully to that exact number though because my experience so far in using my outline has been that sometimes it takes multiple chapters to get through a plot point that I originally budgeted to cover in a single chapter, and other times chapter plots merge, so you really never know until it's fully written. I also won't commit to an update schedule because I'm lucky enough have a full-time job, a lovely boyfriend, and a social life that I enjoy, but my pattern so far has been two chapters per week. I see no reason why that can't continue as long as the inspiration keeps flowing! Motivate me with reviews please! 3