Chapter Seven

Something very strange was happening to Hermione. Unsure exactly when it started, Draco only knew it got worse weeks earlier after their argument about his job. Of course it was always possible that it all began when they stepped into the Room of Requirement. As much as he'd been around her at school, he never really knew her. Highly emotional when she was younger, it wasn't unheard of for the witch to quickly change her moods with little warning. He would never forget the day in third year she punched him in the face seemingly out of nowhere.

What could explain her rapid change in personality? She'd been almost excited about their accidental trip into the past when they started. Maybe it had all been an act and it wasn't until they were forced to come to the terms of their new reality inside a dingy flat in Knockturn Alley that she could no longer keep it up. Gryffindors were odd creatures prone to bizarre changes in mood and behavior. He was glad he begged the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin.

She didn't like working for Borgin. No one could blame her for that. If the roles had been reversed and he was all but forced to work downstairs because one of the partners found him attractive, Draco probably would've been bitter too. Unfortunately, due to the era they were living in, there weren't as many protections for workers from sexual harassment as would be available just a few years in the future. It was truly an embarrassment for their society that more wouldn't be done to protect the vulnerable amongst them for years. Draco couldn't imagine that Hermione would ever be the sort, no matter how much her personality seemed to change, to just put up with Borgin's harassment. Either her distraction spells were still working or the wizard lost interest in his newest shop girl. He hoped it was the latter, but strongly suspected it was the former.

Several weeks had gone by since their row and yet the tension still pervaded their little flat. He never would've imagined in his former life that he would try to become a peacemaker. Even though he was offended by her rude dismissal of his job and his feelings, he was willing to forgive her and move on if she allowed it. She hadn't been respective to his efforts to smooth it all over nor had she been hostile. Maybe it would just take more time and a little more patience. They were both still learning how to live with the other.

He knew he could've easily allowed her words to affect him in a much more negative way. What was wrong with liking working at the greengrocer? When his father's opinion still mattered to him, he used to think of all the ways he could make him proud. After achieving high marks in all of his classes and earning several NEWTs, he would try to move on to an important job in the Ministry, something he knew his father would never grow tired of bragging about. If it would please his father, he would even try to become Minister for Magic.

None of that seemed important any longer. After seeing up close what happens to wizards who crave nothing but power and prestige, was it any wonder he'd prefer to be ordinary? If a simple life made him happy, what did the opinions of others really matter? He only had one life. Why would he waste a moment of it trying to make others happy instead? Lucius Malfoy was only his father in his memories. He had no power over him in his new life. Draco frequently lifted his left sleeve to remind himself that his life was his and his alone.

It did make him laugh to himself when he thought about the similarities between his father and Hermione. What would the once proud and haughty Lucius Malfoy think to know he had anything at all in common with a Muggle-Born? The broken shell he'd been after the war might not have cared, but the Death Eater would.

"Hermione, do you want some breakfast before I leave?"

There was no response. She'd taken to shutting herself up in her bedroom a lot. He tried listening at her door several times to hear if she was crying, but she'd started using silencing spells. He worried there was something more going on with her than he knew. If only they were close enough she could feel comfortable confiding in him. That seemed like an impossibility in the immediate future.

"I'm leaving now. I'll be back this evening."

When there was no response, Draco sighed and turned away from her door. There was no use wasting his time and potentially being late for work. He had more respect for his kind employer than that. Trusting that Hermione was more than capable of taking care of herself, he exited their flat.

One step inside The Magic Chicory calmed him down. Some of the stress and worry he'd felt that morning could be temporarily pushed aside. As he frequently had to do when his mind was on Hermione at work, he had to make a conscious effort not to allow her words to affect him. Just because she wasn't happy working where she was didn't mean he had to be miserable too. How many times did he have to repeat that reminder over and over in his head? Maybe one day soon he would choose to move on to another job somewhere else or maybe he would work hard, save his money, and buy the shop himself. He could even open a new location in another city or maybe even Hogsmeade. Would Hermione still look down on him if he owned his own greengrocer empire?

"Oh, there are you, Draco. Good morning."

The owner of the shop, Doris Tremblay, was a kindhearted witch who never failed to offer her few employees a warm smile. It was still something he wasn't used to yet. If shopkeepers, or really just anyone in general, smiled at him it was never genuine. They usually wanted something his last name could provide or they were afraid. Miss Doris seemed to actually like Draco just for who he was.

"Poor Anthony's cold hasn't gotten any better. He owled me this morning that he couldn't come in. Would you be a dear and complete his deliveries this morning?"

There was no reason for Draco to refuse. He had been eager to learn more about working in the shop and even take on more responsibility. Pleased to accept, he followed her into the back stockroom where several boxes were already packed and waiting.

"It's all very simple. These orders have all been paid for. You just need to place all of the boxes in this rucksack. It's much bigger on the inside than it looks. Follow the addresses on the tickets. How's your Apparition, dear?"

"Fine."

"Good. It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours unless Mrs. Greengrass tries to offer you tea. She's a bit dotty, but mostly just lonely."

Satisfied he understood what was expected of him, she left him alone to return to help the customers in the front of the shop. Draco was glad to know he was already being trusted after just a few weeks. Any joy he might have felt was quickly extinguished when he read the very first name on the stack of tickets:

Cygnus Black.

His stomach dropped. Since he arrived in the past over two months earlier, he'd been able to avoid all of his relatives. It hadn't been easy. Every moment he was outside of his flat he was scanning the faces of everyone around him. Though he highly doubted anyone would look at him and immediately assume he was a family member from the future, he couldn't be too careful.

Of course he recognized it was only going to be a matter of time before he had to interact with one. Wizarding society was incredibly small. He would have to leave the country if he wanted to avoid them entirely. After a couple of minutes of dread, Draco decided there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He prepared his deliveries as he was asked. A short time later he was standing outside The Leaky Cauldron to Disapparate away.

He saved the delivery to his grandfather's house for last. Foolishly he hoped seeing all of the other customers first would help settle his nerves and put him more at ease. All delaying the inevitable did was make him more nervous. By the time he was down to his last box, Draco feared he was in danger of being violently ill in the hydrangeas.

Few times in his life had he ever approached his grandfather's house without a deep feeling of dread. Cygnus Black was a formidable man, even to his only grandson. He scared Draco. It was something of a relief, no matter how terrible it sounded, when he died when Draco was twelve. He'd always loved his grandmother though. She was kind and usually smelled like sugar cookies.

Unable to delay the moment any longer, Draco knocked on the front door of the familiar house with more false confidence than real. It was anyone's guess what would happen next. He could be lucky and no one would be home. Or they'd quickly accept the delivery without even looking at him.

Draco nearly dropped the box he was carrying when the front door was opened a few seconds after his knock. He'd been expecting his grandmother and dreading his grandfather. For an inexplicable reason, he failed to consider it might be his mother. She was only a pretty, little ten year old, but he would recognize her anywhere. When she smiled, he felt as if he'd been hexed in the gut. An overwhelming feeling of homesickness fell over him. He missed his mother so much he nearly wept right there in front of her younger self.

"Mummy! Mummy, there's a boy here."

Still startled by seeing his mother again, he was frozen in place when a new arrival roughly pushed little Narcissa away from the door. Fifteen year old Bellatrix had a pleased grin on her face until she got a better look at Draco. Her disappointment that he wasn't the one she wanted him to be was palpable. Even as a teenager she was intimidating when she was displeased. She was one relative he would never miss or mourn.

"You should've used the kitchen door. The front door is only for important guests, not servants."

Bellatrix stormed off with a heavy scowl. Her nephew wasn't surprised in the slightest at her rude behavior. She'd always been a hateful bitch. He nearly laughed in relief when he saw a much younger version of his grandmother approach with a kind smile.

"Please come inside. I'll show you to the kitchen."

Druella Rosier Black was nearly the polar opposite in terms of her personality as her husband. Though they shared the same views on blood purity and the superiority of witches and wizards to Muggles, their similarities ended there. Few could understand how their marriage ever came into being. There were whispers of course about the short period of time that passed between their hasty wedding and the birth of their first daughter. But regardless of the reason, Draco was glad his grandmother could still put him at ease even if she didn't know who he really was.

"You must be new. I don't believe I've seen you before."

"Yes, I am. This is my first delivery here. I didn't know I was supposed to use the kitchen door."

His grandmother closed her eyes and softly shook her head. So similar to how his own mother expressed her frustration and disappointment, he felt that same longing for his past twist in his stomach. Would it get easier as time went on or would it become much harder to think about his former life as a young, pampered Malfoy?

"Pay no mind to my eldest. She has grander ideas than she has a right to. Perhaps one day she will marry a fabulously wealthy wizard and move into his fine estate, but until that day comes, she should keep both feet on the ground."

She lowered her voice nearly to a whisper despite them being the only two in the kitchen.

"Next week and September the first cannot come soon enough for me. I love my girls, but I need a break. The summer holidays just seem to get longer and longer."

Perhaps realizing she was being far too candid with a complete stranger, Druella smiled in a half-embarrassed, half-amused manner. She took the box out of his hand to set it next to the sink. There was so much about her that was exactly the same as she'd always been that for a brief second if he ignored how smooth her skin was and how there wasn't a single strand of silver on her blonde head, he could imagine he was back in her kitchen for one of his old visits. She never failed to make him feel welcome and wanted.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Draco."

"Oh, that's a lovely name. My husband and I considered it for one of our babies, but we never had a boy. And your surname?"

He felt trapped. What could he say? If he told her a false name and it got back to Miss Doris, there would be a number of uncomfortable questions asked. But if he admitted it was Black, would his grandmother be suspicious anyway? Finally deciding it was a common enough name, he knew he couldn't lie. At least not any more than he already was.

"Black."

His grandmother was unable to hide the look of surprise on her face from hearing his full name. She began to look at him more closely than before, focusing especially on the grey eyes he'd inherited from his mother's side of the family. Why didn't he tell another lie about his name? Why didn't he think up an entirely different one to give Miss Doris on the first day? He was asking for trouble, playing a dangerous game.

It only grew worse moments later when his grandfather entered the room. The familiar fear and anxiety he'd always felt in Cygnus Black's presence returned with a breathtaking intensity. Draco wondered how rude it would be to run out of their house without saying a word. How was he going to get out of the bizarre situation he'd found himself in?

"Darling, this young man's name is Draco Black. Do you think he might be a distant relative of yours?"

For the first time since he entered the kitchen, Cygnus noticed the stranger. Though clearly annoyed with his wife's question, he nonetheless humored her by looking over their guest. Always one to keep an unreadable expression on his countenance, he gave none of his private thoughts away even as his gaze lingered on Draco's grey eyes too. Even if he wanted to run, Draco's feet felt frozen to the floor during his grandfather's inspection.

"If he is a relative, it would be distant enough that it doesn't matter. Now leave the boy alone, Druella. You shouldn't keep him from doing his job."

Cygnus pressed a sickle into Draco's hands and wished him a terse 'good day'. Recognizing a dismissal, Draco didn't need to be told twice. He smiled at his grandmother before rushing out the kitchen door. Only out in the fresh air could he breathe again.

"Will you be coming back again?"

That was, of course, until his ten year old mother appeared quite suddenly out of nowhere. He hadn't noticed her standing outside in the garden until she spoke.

"I might if I have to make another delivery again."

His answer was all the reassurance she needed. With a bright smile that lit up her entire face, young Narcissa ran back inside her house. It was a strange ending to a thoroughly unreal experience. He was never more thankful to return to the shop.

For the rest of his day, Draco's mind wandered. He was torn between the fear that he'd messed up any hope he had to remaining inconspicuous and then the joy he felt at seeing his mother and grandmother again. Even if they didn't know who he was, he knew them and that was all that mattered. Seeing his mother so innocent and carefree was a treat. He could only ever remember her with a constant source of anxiety. If it wasn't for the safety of her family, it was nerves that she would make a wrong step in the society that once seemed so terribly important to their family.

He feared the source of his mother's future unhappiness was undoubtedly her marriage to his father. Would she remain the same happy girl if she stayed far away from Lucius Malfoy? It upset him to think that was entirely possible and likely even probable. Could he solve all of her problems just by somehow preventing her future marriage? Was that why the Room of Requirement brought him back to the past?

"Oh dear, I hope you haven't caught Anthony's cold, Draco. You look terribly pale."

He was torn out of his thoughts by the kind witch fussing and freezing over his health. It hadn't taken long in her employ for Miss Doris to take him under her wing. More often than not she sent him home with something to eat or a potion she was sure he needed.

"Promise me that if you wake up in the morning not feeling well that you will send me an owl. We're not so busy right now that you can't stay home and rest for a couple of days."

Knowing there was someone out there who genuinely cared what happened to him filled Draco with a warmth he didn't expect. Why would a complete stranger with no blood ties to him care whether or not he was ill? It was not something he had much experience with. Usually people in his life only feigned interest in hopes of getting something themselves. His world before the past had been painfully superficial and self-absorbed. He didn't want to go back to a similar miserable existence.

"I'm all right, Miss Doris, but I promise I will try to go to bed early tonight."

It was enough to pacify the woman. She wished him a good evening as she insisted he leave for home half an hour earlier than usual. He might've been tempted to insist he stay to help close up the shop if his mind wasn't still focused on the delivery he made earlier and the possible repercussions.

Hermione was already seated at their tiny dining table surrounded by her books when he entered their flat. True to her nature she hadn't wasted much time going into the Ministry to register to take her NEWTs. Determined not to be stuck in Borgin and Burkes for very long, she was going to study on her own until she could take the tests in the spring. Naturally she insisted he take them too. It turned into another tense argument he would rather forget. She refused to believe it was possible for him to find happiness working a simple job. While he highly doubted she would never bring up the uncomfortable subject again, she'd at least offered him a few weeks' peace.

"How was your day?"

He knew Hermione was making an effort to be polite. Though she hadn't entirely ceased her snarky remarks about his job and what she thought about it, he knew she was at least trying. She'd been almost pleasant again once she started her independent studies. Neither of them thought it would be wise to try to return to Hogwarts. Not that he'd wanted to in the first place. Too many questions would be asked about their origins they couldn't answer, too many opportunities to draw suspicions they couldn't afford. Maybe she would've been happier back in the castle and away from Borgin.

"Strange actually. Miss Doris asked me to make some deliveries…"

"Oh, a promotion, was it? Did you get a special star on your apron to commemorate?"

The very moment the words were out of her mouth he knew Hermione regretted saying them. From the day they moved into the attic he'd noticed an unpleasant change in her personality and moods. At first he just assumed it was because she was unhappy working downstairs, but the longer the phases lasted and the nastier they became, the more he wondered if there wasn't something else to blame. Could the building they lived in be cursed? That made little sense. He lived there too and hadn't felt the same. Maybe she'd come into close contact with a dangerous artifact in the shop? He tried not to take her rapid shifts in mood personally no matter what the cause.

"I'm sorry, Draco, that wasn't kind. I just…" She rubbed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. "This damned headache is only getting worse. I've been in a foul mood since I woke up this morning."

He bit his own tongue before he mentioned she'd been using that same excuse for days. They didn't need another row. Living together was hard enough. He decided instead to push the conversation ahead without even acknowledging the fact that she'd been less than pleasant.

"I had to deliver to my grandparents' house. I saw my mother."

Hermione set her quill down with wide eyes. Gesturing to the other chair at the table she silently urged him to sit. He complied hoping he wasn't making a mistake in confiding in his flatmate.

"Are you all right? What was that like?"

"Very strange. She's only ten, but she… I mean when I…"

Draco was at a loss. There weren't adequate words to express the feelings of nostalgia and homesickness he felt warring inside him against anger and sheer hatred. Maybe it was best he sorted through his own feeling first before he tried to bring someone else in. He shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

"Guess I'll have to start getting used to the possibility I'll see a family member from now on. So what are you working on?"

"Charms."

"Are these books what you study for hours at a time locked up in your room with silencing charms?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Every time he tried to bring up what she was being so secretive about in her room she would get annoyed and refused to answer. He was only teasing her, but that didn't matter. The very fact that she would essentially shut down in the face of such questions was suspicious enough. He couldn't shake the feeling she carried around heavy secrets that were eating her up inside.

"I'm only joking."

Draco laughed it off like it was nothing. When he announced he would be taking a shower, he could feel her eyes staring at the back of his head until he closed the door to the bathroom. She needed to work harder at concealing her thoughts.

The next morning he waited until he heard her leave the flat before emerging from his own bedroom. Most days he left for work before she left her room, but he wasn't expected at the shop until later. He remained as quiet as possible to make it seem as if he'd already left.

A small part of him felt guilty when he pushed open the door to Hermione's bedroom. Neither of them possessed much since they arrived in the past, but didn't they have a right to privacy? His fear that Hermione was involved in something dangerous was what encouraged him to ignore the quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him to walk away.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Her bedroom looked just like his. For a brief moment he considered rummaging through her chest of drawers to see if she was hiding anything that would give him some clue what she was up to, but that was far too much of a violation. He exited her room without a single hint what her secret was.

An unnerving feeling fell over him as he walked through Diagon Alley. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't immediately notice how on edge he felt. He listened carefully to his surroundings as he continued. A steady set of footsteps just behind him were easy to hear once he suspected he was being followed. Robberies were unfortunately quite common in the dodgy district. He merely sped up his steps and gripped his wand tightly in his pocket.

He was followed all of the way to The Magic Chicory. When he slipped inside the shop, he relaxed. Why hadn't his shadow tried to attack him when he was exposed? If they were indeed a robber, they were painfully inadequate. Draco peeked out one of the shop windows hoping to catch a glimpse. It would be dark when it was time for him to walk home and he needed to be alert.

There was someone outside staring at the shop. A tall, elegantly dressed wizard with silver-blond hair couldn't tear his eyes away from the front door. He seemed to be deliberating. Should he go inside or walk away? Less than a minute must have passed before he chose to walk away leaving Draco thoroughly confused.

Why was his grandfather Abraxas Malfoy following him? What did he want and how long would it be before he confronted Draco directly?