The next morning, Hermione woke to tapping on her window. She blearily rolled over to the other side of her bed and pushed the window open, allowing Draco Malfoy's large eagle owl to land on the sill. Hermione pulled herself into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes.
In its grasp was a package and a letter, which it looked very annoyed to have carried so far. Hermione sighed and took both from the owl, who chirped its thanks and immediately departed her window.
Hermione set the package aside and opened the letter, still blinking sleep from her eyes. It was ungodly early, judging by how little light there was outside and by how exhausted she felt. She rubbed her eyes several times before they would focus on the parchment in her hands.
Granger,
I wanted to give you advanced warning that my mother would like to discuss the wedding with you, and is therefore forcing me to leave the Manor. I did tell her that you probably would not want to plan anything, but she's rather hopeful.
We agreed last night that there would be no more gifts, but in my defense, I had already acquired this and intended to give it to you. I'd like to argue that because I did not purchase it prior to our agreement, it does not violate the agreement.
I'm also hoping you'll be so thrilled that you won't be able to turn it away.
If you'd be amenable to lunch during your break on Monday, please let me know.
Yours – D.M.
With a groan, Hermione set the letter aside and pulled the package into her lap. It was clear that it was a book, and a heavy one at that. No wonder the owl had been so annoyed. Hermione felt guilty that she hadn't had a treat to send the bird off with.
She unwrapped the brown paper packaging and pushed it open to reveal the beautifully ornate front cover of what she immediately recognized to be a first-edition copy of Hogwarts: A History. She could scarcely breathe, and was terrified to touch the book in her lap. To her knowledge, there were only a handful of these in existence. One of them was at Hogwarts, in the Headmaster's office. One of them was kept in a vault at the Ministry of Magic, and she had been lucky enough to see it on multiple occasions.
And now one of them was sitting on her lap, in her bed. She felt incredibly unworthy.
Hermione stared at the book for several more seconds, hands hovering uselessly above it, before she carefully extricated herself from bed and relocated the book to her dresser. She was afraid to even touch it, its rarity and beauty (and value) terrifying to her. But she would be lying if she said she was not thrilled to have it. She had told Draco that she was not bribable, but maybe she was.
"Blaise! Wake up!" Draco pounded on Blaise's front door. It was ten in the morning, but his Italian friend should be awake by now. He had never known the man to sleep in. Torn between concern and annoyance, Draco pulled out his wand.
"Alohamora." The lock clicked open and Draco cautiously opened the door, stepping into Blaise's modest home.
Blaise Zabini lived in a small semi-detached home slightly outside wizarding London, in a community populated half by Muggles and half by very cautious Wizards. He had moved out of Zabini Manor the day after the completion of his trial and put the estate on the market. The house and everything in it had been auctioned off and sold, and Blaise had never looked back.
Several months later, Blaise had confided in Draco how he felt about his home and his family. His mother and father had been extremists even before Voldemort's return, and had only gotten worse after. They had both been Death Eaters, and though Blaise had avoided taking the Mark he had not avoided being forced by loyalty and fear into assisting his parents.
They were in Azkaban, alongside Draco's father, and Blaise had not spoken to them since their arrest. His parents had begged him to speak on their behalf at their trails, and Blaise had refused. He had been furious with them for ruining his childhood and his young adult life, and then setting him up to fail as an adult.
To make amends, Blaise had paid his reparations and more. He donated to the Ministry's relief fund, to private funds aiding orphans of the war, and to hospital funds providing long term care for those affected. He had actively participated in helping the effort to rebuild Hogwarts, and was well on his way to sitting on the school's board.
Malfoy had spent a lot of time at Blaise's home as a way to escape the Manor and the conflicting feelings that being home used to bring him. Draco had not understood Blaise's actions following their trials. At first he had thought Blaise was putting on a show for the world and that he was being disingenuous, but as Blaise had continued his actions Draco realized he was serious.
It was because of his familiarity with Blaise and Blaise's house that Draco did not find it intrusive to walk into his friend's home.
"Blaise, I'm in your house," Draco bellowed impatiently. He stopped and listened for any sign of life in the house. After a moment, he heard hushed and frantic voices, and then a door slamming from the other end of the home. Blaise, dressed only in his pants, looked around the corner at him. He had clearly still been in bed, and looked disheveled.
"Er, give us a sec," he said, holding up one finger as he disappeared back around the corner. Draco sighed and proceeded to take his shoes off, which was when he noticed that there was a pair of women's shoes there. He looked up just as Blaise and Angelica, dressed in what looked to be one of Blaise's shirts, walked around the corner. She was hanging off of Blaise's arm and was flushed bright red, but Draco couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or exertion.
He looked away politely and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd have company – you usually don't."
"Not a problem, mate," Blaise answered, moving to the coat closet. He helped Angelica into her coat. "We probably should have been awake." Angelica giggled and righted her coat over her shoulders before turning to Draco.
"Good morning Master Malfoy," she said politely, leaning against Blaise's side. He put an arm around her and pressed his lips to her hair. He looked absolutely smitten, and Draco thought he might actually vomit.
"Draco, please," he replied. "Should I leave?"
"Oh no," Angelica said, standing on tiptoe to kiss Blaise's dark cheek. "I should head out anyways, plans with my folks. It was nice to see you Draco!"
Draco gave an awkward wave and looked away as Blaise kissed the witch properly and whispered something in her ear. Angelica giggled and nodded, and with a snap she Apparated out of Blaise's entryway.
"Well you two got cozy quickly," he said blithely. "When will the Ministry welcome their first baby?"
"You're jealous, Malfoy." Blaise grinned. "Do you want breakfast?" He moved towards the kitchen, waiting for Draco to follow him.
"I'm not jealous, Zabini. And no, I ate at the Manor before my mother banished me. But a glass of water would be nice, and perhaps something to help with nausea after that disgusting display."
Blaise barked a laugh and started to make himself porridge, summoning Draco a glass of water as he did. "Did Draco Malfoy just make a joke? Be still my heart. Granger must have finally agreed to go out with you. Did you get her into bed, or have you lost some of your charm since Hogwarts?"
Draco swallowed the sip of water he had taken, hard, and frowned. "Yes, we had dinner. No, we did not sleep together."
"What?" Blaise asked, turning from the stove and letting his wand tend to the pot simmering there. "Draco Malfoy, who has shagged nearly every girl in Slytherin House, did not shag Gryffindor's Golden Girl?"
"Don't be crude," Draco muttered, averting his eyes from Blaise's prying gaze. This was not abnormal banter for them, but something about this was making him uncomfortable. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, but he suspected it was something about Blaise speaking so basely about Granger that was sitting poorly with him. "She has no interest in shagging me."
"Yet." Blaise winked.
"Possibly ever," Draco answered shortly. "As she pointed out to me last night, I did dedicate a great deal of my life to making her miserable."
"I've had it on good authority from Pansy that you shagging her would likely not make her miserable," Blaise snickered. "When do you plan on getting her in the sack?"
"Whenever I bloody well please, thank you. I see you and Angelica didn't wait long," Draco huffed, trying to divert the conversation from Hermione. He felt a strong urge to defend her and keep their personal life between the two of them – something told him that she wouldn't like to be the butt of Blaise's jokes.
"Who says we weren't shagging before?" Blaise asked conspiratorially, setting his finished bowl of porridge on the counter in front of him.
"Were you?" Draco asked, leaning forward. Blaise nodded solemnly and Draco gaped at him. "You didn't say. You always tell me who you're shagging!"
"Forgive me, but how would you have reacted if I'd told you I was shagging a Muggleborn witch?" Blaise asked, and all jest had left his tone. "I didn't think you'd take it very well, considering."
Malfoy paused, suddenly ashamed. Blaise was absolutely right – he would not have reacted well to that. He looked down at his hands and frowned. He didn't like that about himself, and he didn't like that Blaise was not the only person who thought of him like that. Granger had made it very clear last night that that was what she thought, too.
"I bet you Granger's a virgin," Blaise said suddenly, around a disgustingly full mouth. Draco looked up sharply.
"Could we leave the topic of my sex and Granger behind us?" he asked. "I don't want to talk about her like that."
Blaise raised an eyebrow and set his spoon down. "Oh man," he said, face breaking into a genuine smile. "Oh boy, you've got it bad. One date and you have got it bad. I knew bidding on her was the right move, you're besotted!"
"I'm not," Draco said defensively. "I'm not besotted. I do not become besotted. I just don't appreciate the speculation."
Blaise raised his spoon, and casually flicked a glob of porridge across the counter at Malfoy. Draco leapt back with a shout. "Enamored!"
"Be careful!" Draco shouted. "You can't afford to dirty me!"
Blaise roared with laughter and launched another well-aimed spoonful of porridge in Draco's direction, shouting, "Smitten!" Draco dodged it with all the grace of a well-trained seeker, and then dissolved into laughter with his friend, doubled over in Blaise's kitchen.
"Merlin, these Muggleborn women will be the death of us," Blaise wheezed, wiping his eyes. Draco nodded and tried to catch his breath. He felt good, better than he had in a long time.
"You said your mother banished you," Blaise continued, still coming down from his giggles. "Why?"
"Granger is there for tea," Draco answered, brushing the bit of porridge that Blaise had managed to get on his shirt off onto Blaise's floor. "I'm banned from wedding preparations."
"Probably good for you," Blaise answered. "Not sure you really care about the color scheme."
Malfoy Manor sprawled imposingly across rolling green grounds before Hermione, who hesitated at its gates. She had not been nervous when she Apparated there, but seeing the outside of the Malfoy family home had set her on edge. She actually had never seen the outside of it before, only the cellar and the sitting room where she had been held.
Her left arm burned faintly where Bellatrix had carved letters into it. Mudblood. Hermione shuddered and took a long, deep breath. It was just a house. A house was not defined by what had happened in it before, but by what was inside it now.
Now, Draco Malfoy's mother was waiting to have tea with her and discuss wedding plans, and she was not going to let a house (albeit an intimidating one) stand in her way. She was more powerful than the memories this home held.
She pushed the gate open and started forward, laser-focused on the front door. She was partially aware of beautiful flower gardens lining both sides of the drive and wondered if Narcissa tended to them. She'd have to ask – they smelled beautiful.
When she reached the tall front door, it swung open to reveal a house elf that was wearing a very pretty pink dress. Hermione nearly tripped over her feet, unprepared to be greeted by a house elf.
"Oh! Hello, Miss Hermione!" The elf cried, jumping up and down on her little feet. "We are much excited for you to visit! Please, come in! Mistress Malfoy is just finishing getting ready!"
Hermione gave the little elf a warm smile and forced her feet forward into the foyer of Malfoy Manor. Before her was a large double staircase, each side leading to the upstairs landing with hallways that led to the left and right, to the east and west wings of the Manor. Directly in front of her was a large archway that led to the main large room, which she recognized. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed a view of a patio and a beautiful backyard. She noticed immediately that visually, it looked different inside than she remembered – the ornate woodwork was still there, but it had been stained lighter. The walls were shades of white, and there were no thick, dark drapes covering the windows. Lights were on. Many portraits appeared to be missing.
The Manor did not feel dark.
"I didn't catch your name," Hermione said, looking down to the house elf to distract herself. "And I very much like your dress."
"I am Winky, and you are too kind Miss Hermione," Winky answered, blushing to the very tips of her pointed ears. "Mistress gives me the prettiest things, and then pays me monies, too. We here don't like it, but Master and Mistress insist. So we just buy nice pretty things to wear while we work."
Hermione was blown away – the Malfoys were paying their house elves? Their house elves were free, and willingly continued to work for the Malfoy family? She felt a little shiver run up her spine, a strange mixture of awe and pride.
"How long have you served the Malfoys, Winky?"
"Oh, I was Master Draco's nursemaid!" Winky replied excitedly. "He was a tiny little thing, lots of little white hairs. He never cried a peep, never! He was such a sweet baby."
"I like to think he still is."
Hermione turned quickly to where the new voice had come from, and watched as Narcissa entered through the archway. She had not seen Narcissa in person since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she had not had an opportunity to really look at her then. Narcissa was an imposing woman, tall and thin with a serious face. But her eyes and smile were warm when she looked at Hermione, and she had shed the dark clothes Hermione remembered her wearing, and was instead wearing a sage green robe set that swept the floor as she walked.
"Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said, stepping towards her. She wasn't sure how to greet Narcissa – a handshake? The woman was going to be her mother-in-law for all intents and purposes, but was really a stranger. "Thank you for inviting me for tea. The Manor looks beautiful – do you tend the gardens?"
"Please, call me Narcissa," Narcissa answered, reaching forward and pulling Hermione into a tight hug. Hermione was surprised, but fumbled to hug the woman back. She smelled like roses, and she smiled as she pulled away. "Thank you for coming. I'm very pleased with our redecoration and yes, I do tend to the flowers. I find it very relaxing." She paused. "I thought we could take tea outside? It's lovely out."
Hermione had to stop herself from being visibly relieved at the suggestion. Despite her private pep-talk and reassurances, she was uncomfortable inside the house. Narcissa smiled with understanding and gestured for her to follow. She led Hermione through the room and out a glass doorway onto the patio. A tea service was already present, as well as several large tomes that Hermione couldn't quite see the titles of.
They sat, and while Narcissa busied herself with preparing two cups of tea Hermione took a moment to look at the books. They were wedding planning books – color samples, menus, programs. There were also two pads of parchment that she assumed were for taking notes. She cleared her throat and gladly accepted the tea that Narcissa handed her.
"Miss Granger, if you don't mind… I'd like to discuss the troll in the room. I think it's best if we address it now." Narcissa was watching her with concerned eyes, looking over Hermione's face for any sign of distress. She had the same unnerving and piercing gaze that Draco had.
"Hermione," Hermione answered quickly. "Please, Hermione is fine. We really don't need to discuss anything. It's in the past." She did not want to discuss anything, because she didn't trust herself not to become emotional or frightened.
"Then, if you wouldn't mind letting me speak my piece?" Narcissa quietly questioned. Hermione hesitated, but nodded.
"This is my home. I live here. I've hosted parties, I've entertained some of the most influential Wizarding families. I've spent decades reading every book in the libraries. I birthed and raised my son here. My fondest memories are in these walls." Narcissa paused and looked out over the gardens, lips pursed. "As are some of my worst moments and deepest regrets."
She looked to Hermione, who was watching her with a tight throat and clenched jaw.
"What we did to you and your friends was unforgivable," Narcissa murmured. "I cannot adequately apologize to you for the pain and trauma that we caused, not only in this home but outside of it."
"Narcissa," Hermione tried to interject, but Narcissa shook her head minutely and looked away from Hermione again. Narcissa's eyes were glossy and it was clear she was trying to find the right words.
"I would never expect you to be comfortable or happy here, after all that has happened. But I want you to know that this is my home, and nothing else. You are welcome and wanted here, as frequently or as infrequently as you would like. Do you understand?" She looked to Hermione again, almost pleading.
Hermione nodded and reached across the table, taking Narcissa's hand in one of her own.
"I do not blame you for anything that happened here," Hermione said softly. She meant it – she did not blame Narcissa Malfoy for the actions of her husband, her sister, or her fellow wizards. She knew that Narcissa had done what she had to do, and Hermione could understand doing unthinkable things for someone she loved.
Narcissa squeezed Hermione's hand, pulled away, and cleared her throat. "I know that this situation is not ideal for you, and I'm sure you don't need my sympathy but I understand entering into a marriage unwillingly. If it helps you at all, you've made Draco quite happy in the last week. The change is immense."
Hermione frowned. "I'm reasonably certain I've just annoyed him," she muttered. Narcissa laughed, and Hermione was relieved that she seemed to have cheered Narcissa up with her comment. The details of Lucius and Narcissa's marriage were a curiosity to her, but not one that Hermione wanted to dive into at that moment. She was partially uncomfortable with speaking about a subject so personal with someone she barely knew, and partially terrified that anything Narcissa would say about her marriage would act as some sort of foreshadowing for what Hermione was about to experience with Draco – though she was certain that Draco could never be as depraved as his father.
"You haven't annoyed him, my dear. You've challenged him in many ways, and rising to that challenge has made him… look within himself," she said finally. "He is a work in progress, but being around you is changing him." Narcissa smiled and looked down at her hands. "He is a good boy, a wonderful son, but as you can imagine he has struggled, too."
"I'm sure," Hermione agreed quietly. "We all have."
"Merlin, enough," Draco groaned, running his hand across his face. Blaise had him sat in front of the Muggle television, where they had been all morning watching rugby, a game which made no sense to Draco. He felt like his eyes were going to fall out of his head or that his brain was going to leak out of his ears.
"Nah mate, we're almost done with the scrimmage," Blaise argued, not even looking at him. "These things are wonderful, everyone needs a telly. Bloody love Angelica for this."
"What about a good book?" Draco demanded. "Do you even remember how to read anymore?"
Blaise raised his middle finger at him, still not looking away from the screen.
Draco cast a quick time spell and saw that it was well into the afternoon – his mother hadn't told him how long to stay away, but he couldn't imagine that tea would take more than two hours and even if it had, he was unwilling to spend any more time watching mindless Muggle sports with Blaise.
"I'm going home," he announced, standing up with a groan. They'd barely moved aside from fetching a drink and snack about an hour ago. Blaise waved him off, still engrossed in the sweaty men running to and fro on the screen.
"And I'm using your Floo," he continued, stomping dramatically towards Blaise's fireplace.
"Bugger off," Blaise answered jovially, shooting Draco a friendly grin. Draco chuckled and threw a handful of powder into the fireplace, speaking the name of his home aloud as he did. He stepped into the flames, and then out into the sitting room.
He immediately heard the muffled sounds of a conversation from a room or so away, and he meandered out until he found his mother and Hermione.
For a minute, he stood at the window and watched them chattering on the patio. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but he could see that Narcissa had several books of fabric swatches and some old photo albums open, as well as a few bridal magazines that appeared to be suspiciously Muggle-looking. Granger looked genuinely enthralled, leaning over to look at the swatch his mother was point out. Narcissa was regarding the girl with the warm, genuine smile that she usually reserved for only Draco.
There was something about watching Hermione and his mother that was causing a nagging ache in his chest – he believed the Muggle term was 'tugging on his heartstrings' or something as equally nonsensical. His mother, the most important woman in his life, and Hermione Granger, who was now edging her way up towards where Narcissa was in his heart.
Hermione didn't seem to be outwardly uncomfortable, either. She was listening intently to Narcissa, answering her back, and smiling at a few of the pictures that Narcissa was pointing out to her.
Truthfully, Draco would have been happy to watch the interaction for much longer, but at that moment Hermione looked up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and caught sight of him in the window. She smiled and gave a small wave, and Draco's chest fluttered. Narcissa looked up at him then, and gave him a little scowl – he clearly was not meant to be home yet.
"I told you," Narcissa said as he stepped outside. "That you were supposed to clear out for the day."
"I can only impose on Blaise for so long before his infatuation with Muggle sports bores me to death," Draco answered, pulling up a chair between Hermione and Narcissa. "I can't stand them – not life-threatening enough."
"Things don't have to be life or death and fifty feet in the air to be entertaining, Malfoy," Hermione huffed. "Not everything must be on brooms."
"Ah, that's right," Draco recalled. "You're afraid of flying."
"I am not afraid!" Hermione protested. "I find it to be the least dignified form of travel and prefer to avoid it if possible, but I am not afraid."
"No? So if I asked you to take a spin on my broom right now, you'd say yes?"
Hermione froze and opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "I'm not dressed for a flight," she supplied lamely. "My hair would get messy."
"Your hair is always messy."
"Better that than greasy," Hermione snipped back.
"It isn't greasy! It is styled!"
They stared at each other for a long moment before both bursting into giggles. Narcissa watched the exchange in silence, eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. She gave a soft smile at the sight of her son laughing, something that was so unlike him.
"I think we could call it a day," Narcissa said, standing and smoothing down her dress. She wanted to give the two of them some time to themselves. "We've gotten quite a lot done. You'll just need to settle on a date, and finalize your guest list. You'll need your dress, too. You'll let me know when you're available?"
"Oh, yes," Hermione answered, directing her attention back to Narcissa. "I'll have to check with Ginny as well, and Mrs. Weasley. I'll owl you."
"Perfect. I'll leave you two be – thank you for coming today."
Hermione stood politely to say goodbye to her host, and met her halfway for a quick hug. Draco watched the interaction and detected no discomfort from Hermione at all. It relieved him. He had been worried that Granger would have a difficult time with his mother, but it appeared not.
The witch remained standing as Narcissa headed back inside, squeezing Draco's shoulder on her way past him. It was silent on the patio, and Hermione busied herself with closing up the books they had been looking over and neatly stacking their notes. She glanced up at Draco.
"I should go," she said, straightening up. "I don't want to impose."
"You're not an imposition, Granger," Draco said, perhaps too quickly. He didn't really want her to leave, he liked the look of her in his home, spending time with his family, making herself comfortable. He wanted her there, he realized. He wanted it badly.
"Oh," Hermione answered. She looked at him curiously for a moment. "Did you want me to stay?" She sounded disbelieving. How could she possibly be disbelieving, after the previous night? Had he not made it clear that he did want to spend time with her?
"If you'd like," Draco said, trying not to sound too eager. He may have gone too far to the opposite, because he ended up sounding bored. Hermione frowned and moved to pick up her bag.
She started to ask Draco where his Floo was, just as Draco spoke over her: "Would you like to walk through the gardens?" He heard her question and backtracked, answering, "In the study," just as Hermione said she would enjoy a walk.
They both stopped talking to let each other speak, started to speak simultaneously again, and stopped again. Hermione held up a hand to signal that she would like to speak first.
"I'd like to see the gardens," she said. "Then I'd like to know where you Floo is. If you don't mind."
Draco breathed a sigh of relief and motioned for her to follow. She walked with him down the steps and into the yard, and Draco directed them towards his favorite portion of the Malfoy family grounds. His mother had dedicated a portion of the Southern lawn to rare and difficult plants. Granger was most interested in the greenhouse that was built specifically to produce large quantities of aconite.
"It's notoriously difficult to grow," Hermione said in awe, walking down the rows of planter boxes. "These are growing beautifully."
"The planters are specially made," Draco said. "She's very fond of them. She donates large quantities of aconite to St. Mungo's, for werewolves."
Draco watched as something inexplicable passed over Hermione's face, something sad. She looked at the sprouting purple flowers.
"That's very kind." Her voice was quiet and distant. She took a deep breath and then said, "They're quite toxic, you know." He could tell that she was trying to sound chipper.
"Aware," Draco confirmed. He did not ask Granger about her sudden melancholy.
They walked the grounds for another half hour, talking idly about the flowers and herbs that were growing. Narcissa had quite the green thumb, and Hermione was eager to tell Draco all about the magical uses of some of the species. Draco, who was adept in potion making and knew all of this, listened to every word she spoke, reveling in her intelligence and his admiration for her.
At the end of the walk, Draco saw her to the Floo. Before she tossed her handful of Floo powder in, she turned to him. "Will I be forced to another dinner this week?" she asked, and despite her use of the word 'forced' there was no resentment in her voice.
"Would you be opposed to lunch? Maybe tomorrow? We could meet somewhere in London, if you'd like to avoid being seen with me at work."
"I don't care if I'm seen with you in the Ministry," Hermione said instantly. "Unless you're eager to avoid being there."
"Not at all. I'll pick you up at eleven."
"Eleven it is," Hermione responded. They both wavered for a moment, unsure what to do. Hermione had a handful of powder in her hand, and Draco was oscillating slightly on his feet, trying to decide if it would be unwelcomed to touch her. In the end, he leaned in and kissed her cheek lightly, much like she had done the night before. He lingered for only a moment, and thought that before he pulled away, Hermione may have just barely started to angle her lips towards his own.
But he may have just imagined it.