Chapter Fifteen
The entire atmosphere around the table immediately turned tense at the potioneer's question. Wishing to be away from what was going to be undoubtedly a personal and private conversation, Draco felt like an intruder. Thanks to the Room of Requirement's intrusion into their personal lives, neither of the time travelers had had much of what they could call privacy since their journey began. It felt wrong to just sit there at the same table like he had a right to be there.
When he started to move away, Hermione grabbed his hand underneath the table. How could he in good conscience shrug her away and abandon her to the uncomfortable discussion to come? It felt wrong. He squeezed her hand, a silent promise that he wasn't going anywhere. They'd become friends in the past. At last he finally understood what that really meant. Providing support was a key component to any good and true friendship.
"You can't deny that you're related to me, Hermione. Not only do the potions never lie, you have my eyes."
Draco fought the urge to laugh at Mr. Dagworth-Granger's statement. When they first arrived in the past and he'd seen the poster of the potioneer on the outside of Flourish and Blotts announcing his newest book, he tried to tell her the same, but she refused to listen. Knowing she wouldn't appreciate even the smallest cheeky grin, he bit his bottom lip and willed his features to stay perfectly still.
"You also have Ellen's hair and her mother's name was Hermione."
"Ellen?"
Confused by the players in the drama, Draco didn't mean to say the name out loud. Hermione's whisper cleared up the confusion.
"My grandmother."
"And my estranged wife. We have one son Martin. How is it possible that you're here?"
Hector didn't seem angry, only terribly confused. It was a natural response, of course. In any ordinary situation, there would be no explanation. Magic, however, had a delightful way of complicating matters in ways no one could ever imagine. There was no question Hermione was at a loss as to how to answer her grandfather's question. What sort of lie could she tell that would have him actually believe her? Clearly the wizard was smart enough to put the pieces together.
She looked up at Draco, silently pleading with him to tell her what to do. He squeezed her hand again under the table. No matter what she decided to do, he would be right at her side. If she wanted to lie, he would help. If she wanted to tell the truth, he would confirm her story.
"I'm going to tell him."
It was spoken in a soft whisper. Hector heard, of course, but the words were meant for Draco's ears. He offered her the most encouraging smile he could muster. Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst idea to have an intelligent ally aware of their secret.
"We traveled here from the future. It was an accident. We didn't mean to. It all happened so fast. We were both at Hogwarts and the Room of Requirement somehow managed to send us back over thirty years into the past. We've been trapped here ever since. Neither of us know how to get back."
Hector's heavy sigh was a concern. If he thought they were crafting an elaborate lie, he could make their lives difficult. What if he assumed they were somehow insane and needed to be locked away in St. Mungo's for an indeterminate amount of time? Even if no one believed him, he could make trouble for them by announcing to the world that they were time travelers.
"I feared it was something like that. I've read enough about time travel to know that it is theoretically possible. I'm very sorry to hear that you don't have a way back home. That must be very upsetting."
Draco felt some of the tension that had settled on his shoulders at the beginning of their conversation lift when it became clear the wizard believed them.
"Why did I never hear about my grandfather being a wizard? That seems like something important that someone should've told me."
Again Draco wanted to give them privacy. He might have been curious, but it really wasn't any of his business. When he started to move again, Hermione tightened her grip on his hand underneath the table. No, she wasn't going to let him just walk away without some sort of fight. Reluctantly, he stayed.
"Because your grandmother never knew I was a wizard. It wasn't something that I could just easily drop into a conversation, I'm afraid. Never figured out quite what to say. Ours was a whirlwind romance. The Second World War had just ended and… well, let's just say we got a little carried away. We married the same week she discovered she was pregnant, but…"
He sighed again.
"I was not a good husband. I worked too much and kept secrets. She assumed my late nights were spent with other women and it was easier to let her believe that than the truth that I was brewing potions. Martin was only two years old when she kicked me out. I stayed away at her request, but I never stopped sending them money or checking in periodically to make certain they were okay. I didn't abandon them no matter what you may have heard to the contrary."
"I thought you died. No one ever told me otherwise."
"I suppose that's a better way to think of your grandfather than believing he simply wanted nothing to do with your father. There was always a fifty percent chance Martin would be a wizard, so I made sure I knew enough about what was happening in their lives to find out if he was. I was relieved to discover he wasn't a wizard. Life seems to be a little less complicated for Muggles."
Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes. He didn't know why he felt the sudden urge to defend her grandfather's statement, but Draco did.
"It wasn't meant as an insult, Hermione. Surely you understand that Muggles never have to worry about time travel. That alone makes their lives less complicated than ours."
"Too right you are, Mr…"
"Malfoy. My name is Draco Malfoy."
In the corner of his eye he could see Hermione's eyes widen when he gave the wizard his true name. He knew he needed to get used to hearing it now that he'd taken his grandfather up on the arrangement he proposed.
"As you are my granddaughter, Hermione, you are under my protection until you are married."
Hermione scoffed again. Even months in the past and she still struggled with what she felt were antiquated notions and ideas about living. Hector, however, wasn't bothered by her response. Maybe she was enough like her grandmother in personality that he was used to that sort of behavior. Draco knew it wouldn't have been easy for Ellen to throw her husband out of their home in the late forties when she did. Clearly, she was a tough and independent woman just like her granddaughter.
"As no one in the wizarding world is even aware that I am a father, it's a bit more complicated to say you are my granddaughter. Technically, I suppose I'm old enough, but I think it will be easier to tell everyone you are simply my daughter."
"I suppose it would."
"Until you and Mr. Malfoy are married…"
Instead of scoffing, a full amused snort came out of Hermione's mouth. Draco bit back the urge to retort a rude, yet teasing 'you should be so lucky'.
"… it is not appropriate for you to live in an inn and especially inappropriate for you to share a flat with a man."
Hector narrowed his eyes at Draco. Feeling very much like he'd done something wrong even though he hadn't, the younger wizard felt uncomfortable under the gaze. He wondered if he should blurt out the truth that all he'd done, so far, with his granddaughter was a simple kiss in the middle of a rather emotional moment. The potioneer needed to understand that he had only treated Hermione with respect and there was nothing untoward going on in the flat they shared. Before he could utter a single word in his own defense, Hector removed his scrutiny and turned back to his granddaughter.
"There's plenty of room in my house. You will come live with me. It's only proper."
When it was obvious that Hermione was about to start arguing against the new living arrangement proposition, Draco squeezed her hand to get her attention. He lowered his voice to speak directly to her, but he knew that Hector could still hear what he said.
"He's right, Hermione. You should stay with him. It'll be safer for you. Your grand… your father is well-respected. It will be better for you to be with him."
"I don't know. What about you, Draco?"
"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."
"I need some time to think about this."
Recognizing that Hector was growing impatient, Draco turned to address the man directly.
"My family has paid for our rooms here through the end of the month. Could she have that time to consider your generous offer?"
After a couple of tense moments, Hector nodded in agreement. When he stood, Draco did too. Over the table they shook hands. Before he walked away, Hector kissed Hermione's cheek and offered her a bright smile. The entire conversation had taken less than ten minutes, but they both knew that everything in their lives had changed. Whether or not it was for the better remained to be seen. They watched Hector and Igor leave the tavern through the back door towards Diagon Alley.
"What did you mean your family paid for our rooms?"
"Exactly that. Abraxas paid for our bill and insisted we have separate rooms. I've decided to take him up on his offer to pretend to be his nephew."
"This is all so complicated, isn't it?"
"Less so with your family. At least your grandfather knows the truth and he didn't run away screaming or insist you be locked up in St. Mungo's."
Remaining downstairs in the main room of the popular pub didn't seem like the best idea if they wished to continue their private conversation. Experience taught him that there were listening ears everywhere. It was best that they limit their time amongst the public as much as possible when they needed to talk about important topics. Besides, he still hadn't forgotten the announcement she made moments before they entered the Leaky Cauldron. What did she mean she accepted a job offer with the Dark Lord himself?
He led them into his room so he could change out of his work clothes. The moment the door closed behind them Hermione started casting the privacy spells that had become almost second-nature to them both. Before he could cross the room to pick out the clothes he was planning to change into, his eye caught the letter laying on top of his bed. Confused, he went straight to pick it up. Post was rare. Neither of them had anybody to send a letter to really.
"What is it, Draco? Bad news?"
His attempt to prevent the scowl of displeasure from appearing on his face as he read had been an abject failure. Still not believing what he just read, he pushed the ornate invitation into her waiting hands.
"We've been invited to spend Christmas with the Malfoys."
"Both of us?"
"Yes. Your name is on the invitation too. You don't have to go though. It's at the manor and I know…"
Even months together as friends, they had only mentioned the events of the last time she was in Malfoy Manor a handful of times. And when they did, it was usually only a matter of a few seconds before they changed the subject. Time had passed, but it was still difficult for both of them to recall that horrible night. Draco knew that asking her to return to the place where his lunatic aunt tortured her was too much. She shouldn't have to be placed in such an awkward position.
"No, I'll go. I think… I think I'll be okay. I don't want you to have to go by yourself."
He smiled. It was small and he immediately tried to cover it up, but the sheer fact that she was willing to face the location of the worst night of her life because she didn't want him to be alone meant more to Draco than he was even sure he knew. Having her with him would make the experience much more bearable, he was sure.
"I'm going to take a very quick shower because I'm afraid I do indeed smell like peanuts today. I know how much you hate that."
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled.
"When I get out, you are going to tell me everything about your job offer. I want to know every single detail."
The two days before Christmas passed far quicker than either Draco or Hermione would've preferred. Neither of them were excited at the prospect of spending any time with the Malfoy family. Draco was nervous about seeing his father for the first time since being thrown back in the time and Hermione was nervous because her only visit to his ancestral home had been memorable for all the wrong reasons.
"You don't have to come with me. I would understand if you didn't want to."
The words were out of his mouth the second she opened the door to her room at his knock. They were expected at the manor for dinner in a few minutes, but he wanted to make sure she understood that she wasn't being forced to come. It was all going to be awkward enough already without the added stress of remembering being tortured by his insane aunt.
"I know. I want to come with you, Draco. You shouldn't have to be alone today."
He really wanted to believe she was telling the truth and wasn't just telling him what she thought he wanted to hear. It meant a lot to him that she cared enough to want to be with him during what might be an emotional day, especially since she really didn't have to. With the destruction of the horcrux she'd been carrying around her person for months, she really had reverted back to a version of herself that was more like she had been. At least he thought so. It wasn't exactly his experience in the past to be her friend or someone she purported to care about.
"I think… I think that it will be good for me to be back there under happier circumstances. Maybe that will help me move on completely from… that night."
"Does it still bother you?"
Why was he choosing Christmas Day, minutes before they were expected to meet his family for dinner, to ask her the first time about the night his aunt tortured her in his childhood home? There had been plenty of other opportunities to ask impertinent questions before the moment they were literally preparing to return to the scene of the crime. Draco wished he hadn't said anything. Not only was it none of his business, the timing was shit. Hermione offered him a pained smile.
"Not as much as it used to, but I sometimes still wake up in the middle of the night anxious. It's… well, it's silly, I suppose."
"No, it's not."
Her second smile was a little more genuine. She tried to lighten the tense atmosphere with a quick spin and a twirl of her skirt.
"Do I look all right for an elegant dinner at Malfoy Manor? I'm afraid I wasn't quite sure what to wear. My wardrobe is a little limited at present."
Draco couldn't help but stare when expressly requested to provide his opinion. The invitation expressly stated that the attire for the dinner was to be casual. Of course the Malfoy definition of 'casual' had always been a little bit different than normal families. Her modest black skirt and simple red jumper would be perfectly adequate. His eyes lingered far too long on the way the red wool clung just a little too tightly to her slight curves. Worried that she noticed him staring, he cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the floor.
"Yes, you look very nice, Hermione."
If the slight flush to her cheeks was because of his compliment or because she could read the inappropriate thoughts flashing through his mind, Draco wasn't certain. He hoped it was the former. With all of the danger he knew they would be in going up against the Dark Lord in the past, he had been trying to brush up on the Occlumency skills his aunt taught him during the war. Usually he was much better at hiding his true feelings and thoughts. Something about the witch across from him made that harder than it should've been for one so trained.
"I suppose we should hurry if we don't want to be late."
Draco nodded in agreement at her suggestion. Like ripping a plaster off a wound as quickly as possible to minimize the pain, it was better if they just went ahead and got the whole experience over with. Together they walked downstairs and out the back door to the Apparition point without speaking. It was evident they were both very nervous. What did they have to look forward to when they arrived in Wiltshire? Neither of them knew. He desperately hoped that it wouldn't be terribly uncomfortable for her. If it was, he would make some excuse that they needed to leave early. He wouldn't allow her to be tortured, even emotionally, another second in his home.
"You should probably Side-Along us both there. I've never Apparated there by myself."
As much as she tried to hide the quaver in her voice, he heard it. The familiar rage and hatred he felt for his fucking crazy aunt bubbled up inside his stomach. Draco hated few people… truly hated, but Bellatrix was right there at the top of the list. She had always been a menace, but seeing how she treated those she deemed inferior during the war had been sickening. Hermione wasn't the only person he was forced to witness his mother's older sister torture. He would never be able to forgive her.
Draco extended his arm to Hermione which she immediately took. Other than the obsessive way she wouldn't release his hand the day she met her grandfather, they had been keeping a respectful distance between them since he kissed her. It wasn't a real kiss, he'd decided. An unpredictable act in the middle of an emotional moment, he wouldn't count that as a real kiss. Neither of them had worked up the courage yet to discuss it, so it couldn't be counted. But he couldn't deny that as he felt her hand gently grasp his bicep, he wanted nothing more than to give her a real kiss.
What was wrong with him? He'd never had those feelings for her before. Was it simply because they were thrown together into a bizarre situation where they had to become allies whether they wanted to or not? Was it because they were in close proximity to each other and there were few other suitors? Or had there always been something there that he had either chosen to ignore or failed to recognize? He wasn't sure which it was. All he was sure of was that he wanted to explore those feelings further, but was nervous that she didn't feel the same way. It would be humiliating if she didn't reciprocate. Hardly the first time he had feelings for a witch that weren't returned, it somehow seemed like it would be a bigger problem if Hermione pushed him away.
The journey to his family's home only took seconds. Landing just outside of the iron gates on the edge of the property, Draco didn't miss how Hermione's hand tightened on his arm at the first glance of the manor up ahead. Due to the short days of winter, the sun was already set and the manor was covered in shadow. It must have appeared every bit as ominous as the only other time she was forced to be a guest there.
"Are you sure you're all right, Hermione? I can take you back to the Leaky Cauldron if you want. I'll make your excuses. Lie that you got sick from something Tom made downstairs."
"And have your entire family imagine me back in my room trapped in the loo being violently ill? No, thank you. I would rather not endure that humiliation."
She was trying too hard to make it seem like she was all right. Months sharing a flat with her taught him enough about her moods and emotions to know what was genuine and what was just an act. Even through the thick fabric of his own jumper he could feel the slight tremble in her hand. Why Gryffindors had to make it always seem like they weren't afraid of anything baffled him. Everyone was afraid of something, many were afraid of a lot of somethings. There was no shame in recognizing that she was about to step into a house that was filled with horrible memories.
"I'll be fine, Draco. I promise. If it gets to be too much, I'll excuse myself. I think… I really do think it's best that I enter this house and stop allowing it to have so much power over me."
As if she was trying to further her point that she was fine, she gently squeezed his arm and pulled him towards the manor. They were already cutting it close. If they stood too much longer outside of the gates, they would be late for dinner. Abraxas Malfoy never cared too much about punctuality, but his grandmother Leonie Malfoy did not tolerate tardiness. No doubt she was already frustrated that they hadn't arrived a quarter of an hour early.
Each step down the gravel driveway got a little bit easier. Just as he noticed on his last visit, the dark oppression that had settled over the manor following the Dark Lord's near-constant presence within during the war was absent. Left up to Draco, he would do whatever was required to keep that bastard from ever stepping foot in the home in his new timeline. Killing him would be the best solution. He would settle, though, for just never extending an invitation to the evil wizard.
At the ornate front door, Draco grew nervous again. On his last visit his father had still been away at school. What would it be like to see him again as an eleven year old? He had not left his father on the best of terms in the future. Before he left for Hogwarts to complete his final year, he hardly said a single word to his father for months. The shame that the man he used to admire most of all brought down on their entire family was too much to bear. Lucius had ruined his family and for what? He gained nothing and lost almost everything.
"Are you all right?"
Hermione's concerned whisper tore him out of his thoughts. She'd let go of his arm during their walk up to the house, but she reached out for his hand to offer it a gentle squeeze. It still felt strange having her be so physically demonstrative and affectionate even in the small, platonic ways. He wasn't used to that sort of support and encouragement from the people surrounding him calling him their friend.
"I think so. It's just weird. I'm about to meet my father for the first time and he won't even know who I really am."
"I can't even imagine."
Anything else they might have said to each other was immediately cut off by the door being opened by the master of the manor himself. Abraxas had a very intimidating way about him that still managed to catch his grandson by surprise. Despite getting to see a more human side to him in the past, Draco had yet to be able to forget what the wizard was like when he was a young boy. Likely he never would.
"Good evening. We were just starting to get worried that you two would not be joining us."
"I'm very sorry, Uncle Abraxas." He was sure he would never get used to calling his grandfather his uncle. Even the word felt strange on his tongue. "We should've left earlier."
Abraxas smiled warmly at them both, instantly putting at least Draco more at ease. Hermione returned the smile, but he wasn't sure how much of that was just an act and how much she truly meant it.
"No harm done at all. Now, Draco, please introduce me to your charming friend."
"Hermione, this is my uncle Abraxas Malfoy and Uncle Abraxas, this is Hermione Dagworth-Granger."
Immediately his grandfather reached for Hermione's hand to place a courtly kiss on the back. When he heard her full name, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Dagworth-Granger? I was under the impression your name was simply Granger, my dear. Are you any relation to Hector Dagworth-Granger?"
"Yes, he's my father."
A pleased smile stretched across Abraxas' face. Draco had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his grandfather would be pleased to know that Hermione possessed appropriate blood for a Malfoy alliance. As soon as he thought that, he nearly laughed out loud. What would she think if she knew that his grandfather was likely already planning their wedding in his head? She would probably hex them both.
"I had no idea Hector had such a charming daughter, but I suppose all families have secrets. I certainly never imagined my younger brother had a son until the day I met Draco."
Hermione was polite enough to play along with the deception. Everyone had a part to play and she was playing hers perfectly. Abraxas stepped back from the front door to allow them both to enter into the large entrance hall. Perhaps without even thinking about what she was doing, Hermione reached for Draco's arm before she stepped inside. He didn't mind, of course. It still amazed him that she was willing to be there at all.
"Please let me take your cloaks."
Draco nearly laughed again at watching his proud grandfather gladly take their cloaks to hang on a hook near the front door. When he was older, he would never dream of doing something so terribly domestic. There was a lot about his grandfather that was different than he remembered.
"We were just about to enter the dining room. Please follow me this way."
Still keeping a firm grip on his arm, Hermione started to pull Draco in the direction of the corridor his grandfather was already walking down. Able to move only a single step, both of them slammed up against an invisible barrier. Frustrated and a little frightened whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wasn't sure what was wrong. His mind went to all of the worst possibilities. Maybe his grandfather discovered they were lying about who they really were. Had Cassiopeia Black finally responded to his owls and she told him the truth? Hermione's grip on his arm tightened. She was nervous too. They were about to start demanding answers when a sound that could only be described as a giggle came out of nowhere. Confused, Draco spun towards the direction it came from.
Eleven year old Lucius Malfoy wasn't what he expected. For being far too serious in his adulthood, the younger Lucius clearly hadn't learned how to be so stoic. He stood in the doorway that led to the family's library with a look of pure mischief on his face. Even more confused by what was happening, Draco didn't know what to say. Before he could say anything at all, young Lucius pointed to a space above their heads.
"You're supposed to kiss if you want to break the spell."
Hanging above their heads was a sprig of enchanted mistletoe. Draco had always hated the stuff. Worried that Hermione would be horrified by what was happening, he turned to see that she was seemingly just as amused by the predicament they were in as Lucius.
"I believe he's right, Draco. There's no way to avoid it. We have to kiss."
