Chapter 7

They led Hermione through the house and onto the large landing atop a hideously large and ostentatious staircase. She'd been expecting blacks and greens, not white marble and gold gilding. The green carpets on the steps, she'd expected.

She'd been able to forget where she was during their day in the library but now it was all back in the forefront of her mind. She was in the home of the oldest surviving wizarding family in Britain, and somewhere on the other side of those stairs was a man who wanted her dead, her and everyone like her. The man who wanted her best friend dead. The man who attacked Arthur Weasley not days prior. She didn't belong in a place like this and she doubted the feeling would fade before she went back to school.

At the bottom of the stairs stood Lucius Malfoy, clad in the finest robes she'd ever seen, all black and menacing. The only thing missing was his cane. Hermione felt underdressed.

His expression was stern during their entire descent down the stairs. He seemed to be surveying her and Hermione was certain that he could see straight through the Polyjuice, that the reason she couldn't see his cane was because he already has his wand in his hand, ready to kill her.

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Greengrass.' He nodded to her, taking her hand for the briefest moment. 'Please accept my belated welcome to our home.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Malfoy.' She extended him the warmest smile she could muster. 'Your home is lovely.'

He turned to address the group. 'The formal dining room is currently being renovated so we'll be taking dinner in the small dining room.'

Hermione understood what he meant. Voldemort was in that room, likely holding court with other Death Eaters at this very moment. The Azkaban escapees were likely there too, something neither Draco nor Narcissa had mentioned. Residing in her husband's wing was her own sister, ready at the beck and call of their Master. They'd done a good job of keeping her calm but a single door stood between her and Voldemort's full force, his innermost circle of Death Eaters.

Hermione kept her face as clear of reaction as possible as Lucius led them through the house to what could not be considered a small dining room. The marble continued into this room, though the walls were a dark teal, as was the carpet. Several large windows stood on the far wall, hung with black curtains. Two chandeliers hung above a dark dining table, the light flickering through the Venetian glass, looking like captured starlight. Several gold candelabras were set along the centre, gently flickering away. The table could easily seat twelve and more at a push, given the large distance between the chairs. Four plates were arranged on one end of the table, one at the head and the rest in the seats immediately next to it. Lucius strode across the room and took his seat.

Hermione took the furthest seat, though it only left Draco between her and a man who'd tried to kill her once, if you could call smuggling a journal into a cauldron attempted murder.

Lucius snapped his fingers and their first course appeared on the table. It seemed like something Hermione had only seen on the television. A dainty disc of who knew what topped with more colourful confusion.

'How is Hogwarts, Draco?' Lucius asked, barely sparing his son a glance.

'Well. Classes are uncharacteristically dull, but I make do.' He responded, gently cutting through his appetiser. Hermione followed suit, copying his movements as best she could.

Lucius seemed to sniff at that. 'I had hoped that Professor Umbridge would be to your liking.'

Draco briefly sneered, quickly hiding his expression behind a soulless mask. 'The theory is intriguing, but without the ability to practise I'm not certain my OWLs will go as well as usual.'

Narcissa nodded in agreement. 'Perhaps some carefully controlled practice over the break would do you well. We certainly wouldn't want you unprepared for your exams.'

'I agree.' Lucius answered thoughtfully. 'The ministry could have been more lenient in that regard.'

'Are your studies going much in the same direction, Miss Greengrass?' Narcissa asked Hermione, her comforting smile replaced with one of porcelain now they were in the presence of her husband.

Hermione returned the smile. 'They are. My sights had never been set on a Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT but without the practice I'm certain my OWL wouldn't be good enough.'

'Do you have a particular subject you're interested in?' Lucius asked, his patient stare unsettling.

'Ancient Runes.' She replied lightly, having remembered Daphne in at least that subject. 'I'm rather more academic than practically minded.'

Lucius clicked his fingers again and their plates emptied, the silverware and dishes cleaned.

'Our Draco here likes to think himself a potioneer.' Lucius commented.

Draco feigned the appropriate amount of humility. They both knew it wasn't necessary. 'He's the best in class, even with partners of a lesser talent.' Hermione replied, a small smirk forming on her mouth. 'More than once he's prevented an explosion in the classroom. You should be very proud.'

Narcissa smiled again, a little more genuinely. 'I have nothing but the utmost pride and faith in him. He will do our family proud.'

Once again the next course arrived in a snap. A dark meat dish with some assortment of vegetables, once again treated to look as if they were plucked from the pass of a Michelin star restaurant.

Conversation continued idly. How were their studies going in their various subjects? Was anything else amiss about their studies this year? Was the rest of the school's population as enthusiastic about Professor Umbridge's rules as they seemed?

After dinner tea was customarily had in the sitting room, where she may have to entertain them with what meagre talent she possessed. The walk to the sitting room was brief, as was the fleeting conversation. The sitting room, however, was spectacular. Dark wood panelling circled the room, broken up by windows draped in dark green and several ornate bookshelves, likely packed with tomes on dark magic. In the centre of the room, before a white marble fireplace was a collection of couches and wing back armchairsBeyond the far wall was a semicircular, domed conservatory, its walls and ceiling made completely of glass. Sitting inside the dome was a cream piano.

They sat on the couches, continuing polite conversation. Is business going well, Mr Malfoy? How are you taking the news of your sister's escape, Mrs Malfoy? No, of course he couldn't be back, Mr Malfoy. That would be ridiculous, he was defeated years ago. She could tell he was starting to feel out if the Greengrasses would pick a side. No, she said. It's better to play things carefully. It wouldn't do to make enemies.

Hermione began to worry, it had almost been an hour and she was beginning to worry about her polyjuice potion. She glanced up at the clock with every spare moment she had, watching as her time ticked away. With only two minutes to go, an owl began tapping on the glass of the window. Their distraction had finally arrived and as Lucius made his apologies and left the room, Hermione gulped down a long drink of the phial in her pocket and let out a relieved sigh.

'You're doing very well.' Draco whispered to her, unsure if any unwanted attention was on them, or prying ears listening in. 'Perhaps you'd like to play something while we wait for Father to return.'

Hermione baulked a little at the suggestion. She'd discussed this with Daphne too. She did indeed play and there were several composers suspected to be magical, though no one could be certain with how music crossed back and forth between the muggle and magical world. Franz Liszt had always been one of Hermione's favourite composers and Daphne had given her the go ahead to play anything from his repertoire. He wasn't played much in Magical Britain but was in Germany and Belgium.

She hesitantly set down her cup and made her way over to the piano. She'd recently learned Consolation No. 3 S. 172 to play for her parents and despite her lack of practice she could probably play it with some proficiency, especially if the Malfoys weren't familiar with the piece.

She took a seat at the piano and gently laid her fingers on the keys. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the sheet music, trying her best to trust her hands to lead her through it. As she began playing, she could tell her fingers were stiff but with each bar she became more accustomed to the movements, each note becoming more and more familiar. She began to fall into that point of performing where you begin ignoring the audience, because you aren't playing for them anymore. She didn't notice Mr Malfoy return to the room nor did she notice him pour another cup of tea and briefly confer with his wife. It was only when the piece came to an end and Hermione began assessing her surroundings again that she noticed him politely clapping along with his wife and son.

'Thank you.' Hermione spoke meekly, ushering back to her seat with as much grace as she could manage. She took a deep drink and attempted to avoid Mr Malfoy's focus.

'How familiar are you with your fathers work at the ministry, Miss Greengrass?' Lucius asked, his gaze luckily on his tea this time.

Hermione had been prepared for these questions by Daphne two days before she left. Keep it brief, she said. Nobody knows what he does, not even the minister.

Hermione plastered a polite smile on her face. 'As an unspeakable, he doesn't make a habit of discussing it over tea.'

'A shame.' Lucius frowned. 'I had hoped someone knew more about the shake up down in the Wizengamot chambers.' Hermione recognised his tone, it was exactly like Dumbledore's sometimes. Gently scattering some information into the wind.

'Did something happen father?' Draco asked, glancing up at Narcissa.

'On the night of November the Twenty Ninth, I was in an emergency cabinet, nothing to dire but time was short.' Lucius began. He seemed proud of his knowledge, especially when only he possessed it, and sharing that knowledge seemed to bring him a smug joy. 'We were mid discussion when we were thrust from the chamber. Even when we managed to open the door, none of us could enter, not even the Minister himself. Sitting on the dias in the centre of the chamber was a sceptre, a globe and a crown.'

Draco's eyes went wide, though he managed not to stare openly at Hermione.

'It appears something happened that night that activated the Stewart clause but nobody has been able to find anything concrete.' Lucius frowned a little. 'The only thing of relevance is that Professor Umbridge seemed rather put out to have been woken twice that evening. Once for a spat of rule breaking on the grounds and again by the Ministry.'

'There was a flash of red light on the Quidditch pitch around then.' Draco supplied. 'I couldn't be certain it was the same night, but true coincidences are rare to come by.'

Lucius nodded to himself, taking another sip of his tea, seemingly the only person at the table unbothered by the news. 'Interesting, I shall have to inform the Minister.'

Conversation meandered on after that to topics Hermione couldn't hope to recall. She was too fixated on the information Lucius had offered up. The Stewart clause. She had never heard of it, and she couldn't hope to ask Draco about it until the next morning but that didn't stop her mind from stewing over it.

Focus Hermione, she could hear Draco snap in her mind. She shrugged off her thoughts and tucked them neatly away, and steeled herself for what might come next. But nothing did come next, they simply chatted away idly until the clock ticked on toward 11 and Mr Malfoy politely excused himself, citing an early morning and swept his way out of the room.

They were quickly ushered by Narcissa to the library where she locked the door with a flick of her wand, accompanied by several more Hermione barely recognised. 'Miss Granger.' She spoke, her voice shaking. 'Has my son explained to you the former governing body that controlled the Wizarding World.'

Hermione shook her head, speeding through all of the conversations she remembered having with him. 'The Council of something, I think. I'm not certain.'

'Almost.' Narcissa smiled, though her eyes were quite panicked. 'We were formerly ruled by a Monarchy and a pseudo parliament called the Wizard's Council. That King held ultimate power over the affairs of the Wizarding World, and the Wizard's Council upheld and enforced the King's laws.'

Hermione took a deep breath as realisation flooded over her. 'The statute that would reverse the Wizengamot to the Wizard's Council, that would eradicate the Ministry as we know it... which of its clauses was fulfilled.'

Draco shared a glance with his mother and stepped forward, a deep look of discomfort etched into his frown. 'There are not 50 house seats filled, that would be impossible. And the Ministry of Magic hasn't collapsed as far as we know. There's only one option left, Hermione.'

'Is there?' She asked, the contents of her stomach rising in her throat. 'I don't seem to recall.'

'You do recall, I can tell because you're turning green.' He insisted, stepping ever closer to her. 'The monarchy has returned. Their family magic is alive again.'

Hermione shook her head violently, barely containing the tears of shock threatening to spill down her face. 'We just told your father that the returned monarch performed the ritual on the quidditch pitch.' She squeaked out. 'But that's ridiculous because that... that would mean that I... I'm...'

Hermione's physical form began to shift back to its natural state, shedding Daphne's likeness. The discomfort was too much for Hermione to manage on top of the rest and she let loose the contents of her stomach all over the library floor, and all over Draco, who had begun to look sick himself.

'Pleasure, your highness.' His voice quivered as he turned his face, and more importantly his nose away from the rancid smell.

Hermione's lips quivered, as she righted herself, wiping her chin. 'Shit.'