Chapter Fifteen

The Potions Studio

Draco had left after lunch, muttering something about his Potions studio. Hermione smiled, grateful that he was okay with her being alone with his mother.

If he was in front of her, it would be very difficult for her to ask everything she wanted to know.

Before he left, Draco had stared down at her and she had blushed helplessly. The memory of that kiss under the willow tree was still fresh in her mind and she felt her pulse quicken at the thought of it.

Narcissa stood up, offering Hermione an arm. She took it and the two of them stepped off the porch together, walking through the flowers.

"Well, dear, what is it you want to know?"

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip, trying to sort through the questions in her mind.

"What was it like for you, Narcissa? Perhaps knowing your story will help me."

The woman nodded, averting her gaze to the lilies.

"It was... complicated. Lucius was two years older than me, just about to finish his studies at Hogwarts when he turned eighteen. You should know that we didn't get along at all, Hermione. He was always proclaiming his name to the four winds as if we all had to kiss the ground he walked on. The Malfoys were one of the oldest and most important families in England and Lucius made a point of reminding us all of that on an almost daily basis. His blood was the purest, so that meant he was the best of us all."

Narcissa sighed, pausing by an oak tree near the steps of the manor.

"I was sixteen then, and my family prided themselves on the purity of blood too, so I found it distasteful that a Malfoy thought he was superior to me. We Blacks deserved the same respect they did."

Hermione nodded, thinking of the family tree in Harry's house. Narcissa was on it, and so was Draco.

"That year Lucius started growing his hair long and spent the day walking up and down the corridors with his chin up. He was a cocky one," Narcissa commented, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Hermione coughed to hide the laugh she had been about to let out.

It all reminded her too much of Draco, except for the hair. For the six years they had been at Hogwarts together, he had always walked around in the same manner his mother was describing, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle while his grey eyes glared at the rest of the students. Narcissa was still talking so she paid attention to her.

"He, on the other hand, had noticed me ever since I started studying there. I always found his eyes fixed on me every morning as we ate breakfast at the Slytherin table. My sister Bella was part of his group of friends and she used to tell me that he would ask her a lot of questions about our family, especially about me."

Hermione shivered when she heard Bellatrix Lestrange's name. Narcissa noticed and held her right hand, squeezing it.

"Back then she wasn't the monster you knew. I never thought I would come to fear my own sister," she added softly, sighing.

Hermione looked away, clenching her jaw. She'd rather not remember that woman.

"She and Lucius were very interested in the Dark Arts, as was Severus Snape. It was not uncommon to see them sitting together by the lake, whispering to each other," Narcissa continued. "Every time I passed by, he would make some loud comment about his family. I realised later he was trying to get my attention."

"He didn't know you were his mate, did he?" Hermione asked, looking at her again.

Narcissa shook her head.

"He didn't find out until his birthday. We passed each other in the Slytherin common room that morning and I saw him freeze, wrinkling his nose while he stared down at me as if something was bothering him. He made a low sound in his throat that startled me and ran out of there, which was not like him at all. Malfoys don't run, but Lucius ran away. I was deeply offended by this, so I ran after him to demand an explanation and an apology. Lucius stormed out of the castle and hid on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I was so angry that I followed him there without thinking about how dangerous it could be. That's when he transformed, right in front of me."

The woman stopped and Hermione did the same. They had reached the other side of the garden where there was a small plant maze.

"And what happened?"

"I knew almost nothing about Veelas, so I didn't understand it. I got scared and tried to run away but Lucius didn't let me. He held my arm and I thought he was going to hurt me, but he knelt down in front of me and begged me to keep his family's secret."

Hermione nodded, surprised. It was hard for her to imagine Lucius Malfoy like that.

"Lucius swore he would never hurt me and that I could trust him. From that day on we began to spend a lot of time together. He would tell me stories about his Veela ancestors and accompany me every afternoon while I studied in the library. I discovered a side of Lucius that I didn't know and, almost without realising it, I fell in love with him. I didn't know I was his mate until much later, when Lucius confessed his feelings to me. It was his last night at Hogwarts and he offered me a walk around the lake together. He showed me his..." Narcissa cleared her throat, pursing her lips. "His Dark Mark, and he explained his plans to build a fairer wizarding world for purebloods like us alongside the Dark Lord. It was there, right under the stars, that he asked me to allow him to officially court me. I was unable to refuse."

Hermione didn't know what to say, so she remained silent until Narcissa continued.

"Two months later he showed up at my house to talk to my father and ask for my hand. We were already engaged when I returned to Hogwarts in September for my sixth year. We got married two summers later, and Draco was born a year after that."

"Were you eighteen when you got married?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening.

Narcissa nodded.

"And nineteen when my son was born. I know you young people don't like it, but we didn't want to wait."

Hermione folded her arms thoughtfully.

"And that day he transformed for the first time? Were you scared?"

Narcissa smiled faintly, staring off into space.

"No, Lucius never frightened me. On the contrary, I felt..."

"Safe?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yes. It was like nothing bad could happen to me if he was around. I always felt that way, even when the Dark Lord was living among us. Lucius and I calmed each other down."

"I feel the same way when Draco is near me," Hermione murmured, twisting her lips and avoiding her gaze.

Narcissa grinned, holding one of her arms until she looked into her eyes.

"Malfoys are suspicious by nature, though you've managed to get him to trust you very quickly. It was the same for me with Lucius, he even showed me..."

Narcissa paused, biting her bottom lip.

"He showed you what?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.

"I think we'd better not talk about it," Narcissa said, waving a hand and walking back to the entrance of the manor.

"It's that book, isn't it? The one he always carries with him," she insisted, narrowing her eyes.

Narcissa tilted her head to the side, smiling again.

"I see you're as clever as Draco has been telling me all these years."

Hermione gasped.

"Did he talk about me?" she asked in surprise.

The woman rolled her eyes.

"It was more like complaining, but yes. Constantly. He couldn't stand that a girl like you was better than him at almost everything, something he's very much like his father. They both like to always be the best and are very competitive."

They walked into the manor and Hermione blinked several times at the darkness in the hall. Narcissa waved her wand and the curtains opened.

They moved forward until they reached one of the corridors, and Hermione noticed for the first time the pictures hanging all over the walls. Almost all of the people in the portraits had hair as blonde as Draco's, indicating that they were his relatives.

"Is there a portrait of Draco's Veela ancestor in the manor?" she asked quietly, seeking Narcissa's gaze.

The woman shook her head slightly, still walking.

"Giorgio didn't like portraits. He preferred not to air his secret to everyone who visited his home."

Hermione frowned in confusion and Narcissa smiled.

"He was a Veela, dear. He had wings and couldn't hide them so he kept himself hidden in this manor. His wife and child could live a normal life, but not him. Still, Giorgio said it was all worth it to be with her."

"How do you know all that?"

Narcissa made a face, pausing by a flight of stone steps.

"I've read some of Giorgio's letters."

"Are there letters?"

"I can't show them to you, Hermione."

"I thought not. I wasn't going to ask you to," she replied, looking down.

"Draco will tell you everything when he feels ready, do not worry. It's still early for you two," the woman added, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione smiled again.

"Thank you, Narcissa."

"It's been a pleasure. Draco's studio is down the stairs, first door on the left."

Narcissa gave her an affectionate squeeze before walking off down the corridor, and Hermione didn't move until the woman turned a corner and disappeared. She was about to start down the steps when one of the paintings caught her eye.

It was a woman, the only non-blonde in the entire corridor, and she was staring down at her. Hermione approached, biting her lower lip nervously.

Could she be one of Draco's grandmothers? And what if she was also the mate of a Veela?

The woman looked very young, probably no more than thirty-five. Hermione took a step closer, stopping as her blue eyes narrowed.

"Are you part of Draco's family?"

The portrait stared at her in silence. Hermione was about to ask another question when she heard a deep voice behind her.

"The portraits in this house haven't spoken for months, Granger."

She turned around with her hand on her chest, startled. Draco was leaning close to the stairs, watching her with a serious look on his face.

"Why is that?"

"Because I forbade it."

Hermione furrowed her brow.

"Why did you do it?"

"I'm not interested in anything they have to say," Draco replied with a shrug.

"And they just follow your rules?"

"The portraits owe allegiance to the Malfoy heir, which at the moment is me. Besides, they know what will happen if they dare to disobey me," he muttered, his eyes sweeping over each portrait in the corridor.

They all looked away, no exception.

"Have you threatened them?" Hermione questioned, raising her eyebrows.

Draco narrowed his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth, and she gasped.

"It has something to do with me, doesn't it?"

He moved towards her until he was just inches away. Hermione lifted her chin, looking into his eyes and feeling herself blushing again.

"Do you want to see my studio?"

She took a few seconds to answer.

"Are you trying to distract me?"

"Is it working?"

Hermione snorted, though a small smile curved her lips.

"A little."

Draco smiled too, catching one of her hands and leading her down the stairs.

"The dungeons used to be down there, but my mother is slowly turning them into wine cellars," he explained when they reached the bottom, pointing down the dark corridor.

Hermione shivered at the thought of some of her friends who had been locked up there during the war.

"You're trying to erase everything bad that happened in this house."

It wasn't a question.

Draco nodded.

"It's necessary in order to keep living here. Too many dark things happened within these four walls that spoil the good memories I have of this place."

He opened a door and Hermione stepped through, looking around. Despite having no windows, the room was lit with several lamps that illuminated it with a warm light. There were three cauldrons with something boiling inside them on the right side and three empty ones on the left side. Several shelves filled with ingredients occupied the centre, and at the far end of the room was another one filled with books.

"Is this where you experiment?" she asked, approaching the three cauldrons on the right to take a look at them.

"Yes, though I haven't always been alone in here."

Hermione looked away, pursing her lips, and Draco chuckled.

"I meant my friends, Granger. Theo liked experiments too, and Blaise occasionally joined us."

"What about Pansy?"

"Sometimes she'd come, but she'd sit in that armchair and read one of her books," Draco explained, pointing to the only chair in the room. "She's never been interested in potions."

"I always thought you two would end up together," Hermione commented in a whisper, holding up a vial containing a blood-red potion and looking at it curiously.

Draco laughed again, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the wall.

"Pansy and I? I've known her practically since I was born, Granger. She's like a sister to me."

"Then it's similar to how I feel about Harry," she added, smiling and putting the potion back down.

Draco wrinkled his nose. He was still finding it hard to tolerate Potter, and knowing that he was so close to Granger didn't help.

"Pansy went through a phase where she kept insisting that we should try. In her opinion, bringing our families together was a wonderful idea."

"Really?"

Draco arched an eyebrow.

"I dared her to kiss me and, as soon as she did, she changed her mind."

"I'm glad you've learned to kiss properly over time," Hermione teased, turning to glance at him.

He rolled his eyes.

"It was too weird for both of us. As I said, it's like we're family."

"I know what you mean," she nodded.

Another of the potions on the table was a deep blue colour. She was about to take it when his hand stopped her.

"That one was created by Blaise and me. It's similar to Amortentia but its effects last several months."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"And how did you try if it worked?"

Draco cleared his throat, averting his gaze.

"We drew lots and Blaise tried it. He was obsessed with me until the end of our fifth year."

Her laughter echoed through the room. She tried to touch the bottle again, but he stopped her.

"I just want to know what it smells like."

"It's dangerous, Granger."

"Are you afraid I'll fall madly in love with you if I accidentally drink a bit?" she asked, laughing softly.

Her laughter faded as she saw his face darken. He was occluding again.

"If that happens, I want it to be real."

Hermione felt her heart race. Draco Malfoy was way too straightforward for her mental and physical health, and she was beginning to fear that she might go into cardiac arrest if things between them continued to progress.

She couldn't speak, nor did she see herself able to look away from him. And he didn't seem to want to either.

Hermione wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard his voice again.

"How was the talk with my mother?" he asked in a low voice, taking a step closer.

The spell broke and she blinked, swallowing.

"Well, we've been talking about your father and her."

Draco stopped only inches away, his eyes still locked on hers.

"Anything interesting?"

"I was surprised to discover that they didn't get along at first."

His lips curved into a small smile.

"My father was always a prat."

"And you aren't?"

"Yes, though I'm trying to change."

Hermione smiled, placing a hand on his chest and shaking her head.

"You're very different now, Draco. You should be proud of the person you've become."

"Do you think I'm not the same?" he asked, flashing her one of those sneers she had seen so many times in the past.

Hermione let her hand go lower until her fingers brushed his left forearm. Draco's whole body tensed.

"You are, but not quite. Something in you changed the year you were forced to accept this, I saw it in your face. You were having a hard time, you'd realised that the reality was very different from what you'd been told."

Draco took her hand and placed it back on his chest, right over his heart.

"Apart from my friends, you and Potter were the only ones who knew that something was happening to me. Pansy overheard you talking about me more than once."

"Harry was convinced that you had become a Death Eater. I wasn't so sure at first," she admitted quietly.

"Bloody Potter was right," he muttered, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"No. You were never a Death Eater, not at heart," she added, squeezing the hand on his chest until she felt his heartbeat.

When she looked up, Draco was staring down at her again.

"You're too good to me, Granger."

"You were just a child, Draco. You deserve another chance."

The last thing she saw was his smile before she felt his lips on hers. Hermione closed her eyes, gasping as she felt that electric rush running through her body again. Even though she knew it was coming, it surprised her all the same.

That kiss was slower than the one under the willow tree but just as intense. His arms were wrapped around her body, one of his hands lost in her curls and pulling her neck back gently so he could kiss her better.

Her hands were on his chest, though they moved up to wrap around his neck. When she tried biting his lip, he pulled her closer to his body and she heard him gasp.

Hermione tried to think about where she was and what she was doing so she wouldn't feel as lost as she had the first time. And, when Draco broke the kiss and brought their foreheads together, she smiled as she felt his warm, minty breath on her face.

"So have I learnt to kiss properly, then?" he asked in a teasing voice.

She snorted, smacking him on the chest.

"You know you have. It's like my brain switches off every time you kiss me."

"It's okay to let it rest for a bit, Granger. You're making it work too hard."

Hermione was about to protest, but his lips dropped to the curve of her jaw and she forgot what she wanted to say.

"Something similar happens to me, too," Draco admitted in a whisper, leaving a wet kiss under her ear.

Hermione sighed and he pulled away, placing both hands on her waist.

"We have a date to settle."

She giggled, opening her eyes and brushing away the blond locks that had fallen across his forehead. He was still too close.

"I know. You didn't transform this time, though."

"Because I've kissed you before. Now I'll be able to do it wherever I want without fearing my wings will appear."

Hermione stood on her tiptoes, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

"I like your wings."

Draco gave her a small smile.

"Shall we go now?"

Hermione nodded and he took a step back, not letting go of her hand. She intertwined their fingers without thinking as they walked out of the studio.

Holding his hand was becoming as natural as breathing.