Chapter Nine
He was being followed again. It was nothing new. Draco was even starting to get used to it. Nearly every day at some point in his usual routine, he could tell he was being watched and followed. No one ever approached him, but he knew they were there. Though he didn't allow himself to grow complacent about his safety, he wasn't worried. For whatever reason, he knew he wasn't in danger. There had been plenty of opportunities for him to be attacked that weren't taken. He felt confident that would continue to remain the same.
Anthony the delivery wizard never returned to work after his cold cleared up. Rumor was he'd found another job that paid more somewhere else in the Alley. Draco didn't care. Not only had he never really gotten to know the wizard, his abandonment offered him a promotion of a sort. It was really more like a small raise for nearly double the responsibilities but he didn't mind. He liked his job and he liked the witch he worked for. She was always very kind and quick to praise him for a job well done. He didn't even mind that the work was physically demanding just as he told Hermione months earlier when he started. It was annoying that the happier he was in his job, the more miserable Hermione was in hers. He wished she would at least try to make the best of the situation.
There was a chill in the air that felt as if it was going straight to his bones. Draco tightened his scarf around his neck before continuing his walk down Diagon Alley. When he arrived in the past unsure what to do or think, he never would've imagined five months would pass so quickly. November was nearly over and already the shops were decorating Diagon Alley for Christmas. He'd even considered bringing a small tree home to the flat to decorate. When he mentioned it to Hermione, she asked him what would be the point. Nothing would cheer up their tiny flat nor the unhappy woman in the bedroom next to his.
The Christmas season used to be his favorite time of the year until the peace of his childhood was ruined by the return of the Dark Lord. He had hopes that maybe one day he could feel that joy and contentment again. The last Christmas he spent with his family was unbearable. He wished he'd stayed at the castle even with the blasted Carrows there, but his mother begged him to come home. It was hard to go against his mother's wishes, especially since he knew how miserable she was trapped in her home that had essentially been stolen from her. He couldn't abandon her to her prison.
What would Christmas look like in the past? Assuming he could get Hermione to participate. Maybe he would just have to force some Christmas cheer on her. Regardless of what they did or how it turned out, he knew it had to be better than the year before.
The warmth of The Leaky Cauldron was welcome after his short walk in the cold. When he placed the box under his arm on top of the bar, Tom the proprietor gestured to an empty stool with a smile. He was always kind enough to offer him a free butterbeer as a tip. No matter how cold it was outside, Draco loved when it was served in a frosty glass.
"I'll take your lunch special too, please."
His boss Miss Doris told him he could take his time coming back to the shop. They were fairly slow that day and Tom usually had a delicious fish pie as the special on Wednesdays. She'd even slipped an extra couple of sickles into his hand to pay for lunch.
"You're too thin, Draco. Eat more."
It was a common friendly admonishment from the witch. He didn't mind, usually laughing it off. Someone cared about his well-being. That wasn't something he would take for granted again.
As he waited for his lunch to arrive, another patron sat on the barstool next to him. Draco wasn't surprised to see his grandfather Abraxas. Somehow he knew it would only be a matter of time before the wizard stopped simply following him and actually approached him. Eventually his curiosity would force him into action. He had plenty of chances to speak to Draco when he followed him up and down the Alley. At a busy lunch counter in a pub full of customers seemed an odd place to confront him, but perhaps it was less suspicious.
"Do you know who I am, boy?"
Draco nodded. There was no reason to lie. He was often in the newspapers discussing his charitable work. Though his business was alluded to, it was never outright spoken about. To some that would be considered far too crass. If there was one thing that had always been important to the members of the Malfoy family, it was how they were perceived by the society at large. It was a tiresome and exhausting way to live. Draco was pleased to be free from the yoke of expectations in his new life.
"The question remains then as to who exactly you are."
"My name is Draco Black, sir."
Abraxas was clearly annoyed with his grandson's answer. Perhaps it was dangerous or foolish to see any amount of humor in his bizarre situation, but Draco couldn't help it. A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. What would his grandfather think if he told him the actual truth of his identity? How annoyed would he be then?
"Yes, yes, so I've been told. Why are you in London? Do you need money? We can go straight to Gringotts right now if that's what it will take to get you to return abroad."
"I beg your pardon?"
Any urge to laugh left Draco at once. He was insulted. Why would his grandfather offer a complete stranger money to leave the country?
"You are not supposed to be here. Your mother assured me you were still tucked away in a village in Belgium where no one would ever see you and yet here you are."
The wizard may as well have been speaking a different language for all of the sense he was making. Draco didn't understand anything that was happening. Rarely had he been so confused. Assuming he was able to follow along with his indignant ravings, Abraxas continued.
"Do you have any idea how this looks? An illegitimate child born of a premarital youthful dalliance can be overlooked, but a squib? Even worse, a squib greengrocer? The nasty articles in the tabloids practically write themselves."
For as long as he could remember, Draco heard whispers that there was at least one Malfoy squib hidden from the world. Proper Pureblood families were ashamed of their members being born without the ability to use magic. Seen as a poor reflection on their families, the children were often hidden or even dropped at Muggle orphanages never to know anything about their true heritage. The older he grew and the more he understood the world, the more horrified he was that anyone would reject their own blood.
His grandfather's unbalanced reaction to his presence only confirmed the rumors that Malfoys weren't above shuttling their less than desirable relatives to secret homes in other countries. It was deplorable and embarrassing. Annoyed more so by the fact he thought being a greengrocer was as shameful as being a squib, Draco had no appropriate words to say.
Instead of speaking he removed his wand from his sleeve. If his grandfather believed him to be a squib, he would just have to prove to him otherwise. Nonverbally he conjured up a dozen yellow birds to fly around their heads. A simple flick of the wrist transfigured them into small fireworks that covered them in a shower of sparks. Abraxas was amazed, temporarily rendered mute. Draco slipped his wand into his pocket and picked his fork back up.
"You aren't a squib?"
"Evidently not."
He nearly laughed as echoes of his father Lucius' tone came out of his mouth. No matter how much he might want to deny he was his father's son, he couldn't. There were parts of him that he could never change despite how much his father embarrassed him.
"I had no idea you were a wizard."
"Mr. Malfoy, you and I are both aware that you've followed me countless times in the last several weeks. How could I have Apparated if I wasn't a wizard?"
"I just assumed you were using a portkey to make your deliveries. Squibs can use those even if they can't make them."
It was easily becoming the strangest lunch of Draco's entire life. His mind was reeling with the information he'd been given and the worries of how the rest of their discussion would go.
"Why would your mother lie to me? Why would she tell me you had to be hidden away to spare both of our families the shame?"
Much of Abraxas' practiced confidence and air of authority melted away as he spoke. Draco had never seen his grandfather behave so vulnerably before. He seemed very sad. His shoulders dropped.
"Unless she knew I would insist we get married and no, of course Cassie wouldn't want that."
He covered his face with one of his hands. Draco never once saw his unflappable grandfather so ruffled in his entire life. Unsure what to do or even what was happening, he remained silent. He felt uncomfortable, like an intruder of a very private moment. Abraxas took another few moments to compose himself before turning a serious expression on his grandson.
"Draco, never fall in love with an older, ambitious witch who cares more about her career than you. It will bring you nothing but heartbreak."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I don't understand any of what you're talking about. My mother? Belgium?"
Abraxas released a heavy, weary sigh.
"Do you not know your mother Cassiopeia Black?"
Draco shook his head, one more family secret threatening to do his sanity in. His great-aunt on his mother's side had an affair with his paternal grandfather that resulted in a squib she hid away? His aunt was a cold woman who never seemed to have much use for the younger members of her family, especially the children. Unlike most women of her age, she never married and supposedly never had children. She was far more interested in her research and travels. What other secrets would he learn about his family?
"Years ago before I was married, I fell in love with Miss Black. It was a secret, but hardly one that has kept very well. Her nephew Cygnus Black contacted me at the end of August. Said he met a young man named Draco Black who looked remarkably like me who also possessed very distinctive grey eyes. Nearly all of the Blacks have the same eyes. Based on a reasonable assumption about your age and knowing about his aunt's sudden need to leave the country for several months, he was able to make another reasonable assumption as to your true identity."
Draco wasn't sure how to proceed. There was a reason why the Room of Requirement sent him to the past. He wasn't sure if it was to prevent his father from becoming a Death Eater and ruining the lives of all of his family members or if it was to somehow prevent his mother from marrying his father in the first place. Maybe it was both. He didn't really know how he could do either remaining as a stranger outside of the two families. Had he just been given an opportunity to change that fact? Was he brave or foolish enough to take it?
Cassiopeia Black rarely returned to her home country while she was alive during Draco's lifetime. Was it unreasonable to assume the same was true in the sixties? Could he pretend to be her hidden bastard without rousing suspicions? He wasn't sure he was courageous enough to try.
"It's obvious you look like me to anyone who dared look. I noticed it at once. Your hair isn't the same, but…"
Abraxas removed an ordinary looking pair of black spectacles from his inside pocket. When he placed them on the bar in front of Draco, his grandson was even more confused.
"…these glasses can allow a person to see past glamours. When I put them on I could tell we have the same color hair."
"Oh."
What else could he say? He felt trapped but also curious if he'd been thrown a lifeline, some way he could potentially satisfy the mission he was quickly becoming convinced was the reason he was in the past to begin with.
"You take them. They were frightfully expensive, but a happily married man has no business wearing them. A handsome, young wizard like yourself? You can see which witches rely on glamours and which ones are naturally beautiful. I wish I had a pair when I was your age. It would've saved me from some unpleasant surprises first thing in the morning."
His dramatic shudder at remembering his past amused Draco enough he couldn't suppress a snort. It was a terribly bad habit he'd picked up living with Hermione.
"Now that we've established who you are exactly…"
Draco was tempted to interrupt his grandfather to tell him there had been a terrible mistake, a grievous misunderstanding. The simplicity of his life since he'd thrown off the Malfoy name had been addictive. Finally he understood why there were so many people out there who would do anything for a normal life. Once it might have sounded boring and confining to the young wizard. No longer. Something kept him from walking away from Abraxas. Was it because deep down he wanted to be a member of a family, even his own, again? Or, more likely, did he recognize an opportunity to change the trajectory of his parents' futures?
"… we must decide what should be done next. I naturally owled Cassiopeia weeks ago for a thorough explanation of the truth, but I wouldn't be surprised if she never received my letter or is pretending she didn't."
A twisting in Draco's stomach was another reminder that he needed to use great caution. Getting his supposed biological mother involved with his subterfuge could have disastrous consequences. She was an unknown variable. How much did she know about the child she had with Abraxas? Had she abandoned it entirely or did she have some sort of unknown relationship with her shameful secret? He would assume someone as prideful as his great-aunt wouldn't have an issue dropping a helpless infant somewhere and choosing to forget its existence, but assumptions were dangerous and they certainly weren't facts.
"Because you are clearly not a squib, there would've been no reason to deny you when you were born. Now, however, the matter is more complicated. If I'd only known about you thirteen years ago before my son Lucius was conceived, I would have been able to claim you officially without upsetting the inheritance of the estate. If I'd…"
Feeling his head spinning, Draco held up a hand to stop Abraxas' ramblings. He was very quickly approaching the precipice of the bizarre situation where he would cease to have a choice in the matter.
"Mr. Malfoy, this all sounds very interesting, but how can you be sure it's true? How can you be certain without question that I am who you claim I am?"
"Because I have eyes. The resemblance between us is remarkable. And you look a great deal like my son Lucius too. Twenty-one years ago the witch I loved disappeared carrying my child. She didn't return until nearly a year later. All she would tell me was she left a squib behind in Belgium and we were never to discuss it again. Her brother Marius was a squib. Quite shameful really. She was embarrassed by him. Always thought it would've been kinder if he'd been drowned at birth. I had no reason to not believe she was telling the truth."
Draco began to suspect that his grandfather was grasping for straws, desperately trying to make logical sense where there wasn't any. A person could desire something so much that they convinced themselves it was fact even if it was impossible. Draco wasn't even the right age, but he supposed it was close enough that Abraxas wouldn't know the difference. Was it wrong to play into another person's delusion or was it a kindness?
"I have a younger brother who went to the Amazon years ago and hasn't been heard from since."
Nor would he ever to the best of Draco's recollection. His great-uncle Septimus Malfoy was an odd creature according to his grandmother and all who knew him. It hadn't been a surprise to anyone in his family when a holiday that should've been safe and routine never ended for their eccentric relative.
"I've always just assumed Septimus made himself a home in the rainforest and never wanted to return. He never cared for the pressures that could sometimes arise with being a Malfoy. Of course he was a terrible swimmer so it's entirely plausible that he drowned."
"I'm sorry to hear about your brother, Mr. Malfoy, but I don't understand…"
"I cannot officially claim you as my son, but I can claim you as my nephew. You would be a Malfoy and be entitled to Septimus' share of the estate. It's not as much as the elder son receives, but it would provide you with a comfortable life, one where you wouldn't be forced to work a menial job in trade."
It was all very overwhelming. When he stepped inside The Leaky Cauldron, Draco only expected a hot lunch, not an offer that would drastically change his entire life. Did it even matter to his grandfather that he was happy where he was? He didn't want to be a Malfoy. Their lives were complicated and usually unhappy. He wouldn't have blamed Septimus if he really did choose to make a life for himself in South America. Draco liked how he was treated when no one knew he was a Malfoy. He wanted to keep working his 'menial job'.
"You could move into Septimus' old bedroom at once. The house-elves have always kept it ready for him to return at a moment's notice."
Nothing would make Draco leave Hermione alone in their Knockturn Alley flat. Nothing. He knew she wouldn't be safe there. Borgin made that clear every time he stared at her arse.
"I already have a flat."
"Yes, I know all about that. A tiny, disgusting hovel above a disreputable shop. And yes, I also know about the young witch you claim to be your cousin."
The expression on Abraxas' face was the only clue Draco required to know his grandfather didn't approve of his current living arrangements. It was a bit unusual for the time period for flatmates to be of the opposite sex.
"I was young once too, Draco. I know all too well about the pleasures of the flesh, but I kept them private. It's inappropriate for a wizard and witch to live alone together without being married. Either insist the girl marry you or you must move out."
Imagining a scenario where he would demand Hermione marry him nearly made Draco laugh. She could be a complete mystery at times, but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't appreciate being given such personal directions. Before he could say anything in response, Abraxas stood up and left enough coins on the bar to pay for Draco's lunch.
"I've given you a lot to think about. Take your time. I'll be in touch."
For the remainder of the day, Draco existed in a strange fog. His thoughts wouldn't shut down for even a moment. Over and over again he replayed his conversation with his grandfather in his head. Was it all just madness or an opportunity he should jump at? He couldn't explain it, but he was anxious to share it with Hermione. What would she think?
There could be no denial that his traveling companion had undergone a drastic change since they arrived. He wished he could understand why she would seem like her old self one second and in the next she was a cold, hostile stranger. Something was upsetting her and he would do whatever it took to help relieve her of her burdens. Despite her frequent bad moods, he knew he needed to talk to her to make any sense out of what happened. It was funny how much life changed in just a few months.
To his relief, Draco found Hermione in an excellent mood when he got home. She'd had a rare day where she was alone in the shop. Spending any amount of time with her lecherous employer tended to dampen her day. Taking a break from her nearly manic studying, she was seated on their shabby sofa staring into the flames in their fireplace. The smile she offered him in greeting drew a smile out of him. He liked when she was happy and wished he knew how to make it a more frequent occurrence.
"I had the strangest day."
He offered her no further warning before collapsing on the sofa next to her. Most days he knew such a statement would leave himself open to snarky comments and questions about fresh produce. Instead of insulting him or his job, Hermione wrinkled her forehead in clear concern.
"What happened?"
All of the details from his unexpected lunch with his grandfather came rushing out. Even though she was bothered by him not telling her about being followed so frequently, she didn't stop him to lecture or chastise. When the last of his descriptions of the offer he was made were uttered, she still needed another minute to process all she'd heard.
"You should really consider your grandfather's offer, Draco. It could be exactly what you need to help your father. This will give you the chance to be around your father when he's young and impressionable. You could encourage him to make better choices, to not become a Death Eater. You can't deny that it's an attractive prospect."
No, he couldn't. That was part of the problem. Maybe he just needed to hear the same from someone else. She had only a vague idea of what he thought the Room of Requirement's reason for sending him back in time, but she knew enough to understand he shouldn't throw away the chance. Draco sighed.
"So I could reclaim my true name, if not my true father, and move back into my family home or I could continue working at The Magic Chicory and living in sin here with you."
Hermione snorted.
"'Living in sin'? What sin? We haven't committed any."
"We could start."
Maybe it was because she was in such an unusually good mood that he felt bold enough to say something out loud he'd only been thinking about. He wasn't sure why he said what he did, but he also couldn't deny he liked the way her cheeks turned red. Was she imagining what it would be like? They lived in such close quarters he would've been surprised and even a little insulted to learn she hadn't had the same thoughts. The image of her naked body had been seared into his memory for months. He was definitely imagining it.
"Unless you and Karkaroff?"
He'd been wondering for a while if there was anything between them. It didn't seem like something that was his business to ask. What right did he have to know what she did behind closed, locked doors? Her loud laughter wasn't what he expected, but he was relieved to hear it.
"I wouldn't let Igor kiss me with someone else's lips, let alone 'commit sin' with him. I don't know where he's been."
"I could tell you where I've been."
Draco wasn't sure why he was being so bold. Or why he would be willing to admit how little experience he actually had. Between worrying about committing a murder he didn't want to commit and fearing for his life at every turn, there hadn't been many opportunities. Susan Bones never let him get any further than his hands up her jumper in dark broom cupboards. Lisa Turpin wasn't nearly so shy. He liked Ravenclaws. They were often very curious. During their last year in the castle, they helped each other forget about the miserable conditions they were forced to endure.
He supposed he'd had a few witches in the past who expressed their interest in him, but he wasn't sure he was willing to drag an innocent soul into his complicated existence. Each one he met that he might have liked to know deserved better than to get mixed up with him. Hermione, however, was already there. They had that in common.
Part of him wished he could peek into her thoughts. Her cheeks were still bright red and she was speechless. If that wasn't a damn miracle, he didn't know what else would be. Taking pity on the woman, Draco chuckled and stood up to go make them dinner.
"Calm down, Granger. I'm only joking."
But he wasn't. Not really.
