As Christmas approached, a bustle seemed to ingrain itself deep into the castle. Students were excited for some time off – as were their professors – and the general cheerfulness that usually accompanied the installation of Christmas decorations was palpable. The enchanted ceilings of the Great Hall seemed to show white snowy skies every day, much to Hermione's delight. She loved winters at the castle.
But this Christmas, she looked forward to much more than the customary dinner and gift exchange at the Weasley's. In true Hermione Granger fashion, she was looking forward to the time off she'd get to do what she always did best: research. This was to be a special kind of research though; she'd be bent over piles and piles of historical tomes finding all she could on the Black Family Wards with Narcissa.
After the commotion over William White's attack had died down, Narcissa had made good on her promise and took Hermione to the Black Library. Hermione had scoffed in annoyance when Narcissa jokingly whispered "Please, do try to contain yourself, Ms. Granger," before she opened the heavy oak doors.
Of course, once the older witch had opened them, Hermione's eyes almost rolled into the back of her head – and there was nothing sarcastic about the gesture. In fact, it had been entirely involuntary. The place was unnaturally massive, with incredibly ornate floor-to-ceiling shelves as far as the eye could see. Huge windows let in a beautifully ethereal amount of light, and there were desks and comfy chairs elegantly arranged through the space. Plush rugs and exquisite artwork hung on the walls, completing the feel of the room.
"Good Godric!" she had exclaimed in awe. Narcissa had only chuckled smugly at her side.
The library rivalled Hogwarts' in size. It certainly won over in terms of aesthetics; the entire place was absolutely gorgeous. Hermione felt like she had just stepped into a more somber version of the library in Beauty and the Beast. Not that she mentioned that to Narcissa – it was highly unlikely the blonde had ever even heard of such a movie.
In any case, Narcissa seemed very happy that Hermione liked the library – a bit relieved, as well, even more so when Hermione had tested a few of the more unsavory titles there contained. Thankfully, even some of the most expertly guarded books had no problem accepting Hermione's touch, all the proof they needed in knowing that Narcissa's Vinctum Incantate had worked exactly as it should.
As Hermione organized her materials after a class, she looked at the pale white line now adorning her palm. It was neat and clean, with no angry scarring, but she presumed it would never disappear. She found that she didn't mind it. It was strange to think she had been marked by two of the Black sisters, but it gave her some inexplicable comfort to know how different the two scars were in their nature. Bellatrix had marked her in hatred, in disgust for her filth. Narcissa had then brought that supposed filth into the 'purest' of lines.
If that was not some kind of poetic justice, Hermione had no idea what was.
In a way, that thin white line on her palm comforted in her nightmares. They did not happen often, but when they did, her Mudblood scar would throb painfully – Narcissa's spell mark would feel oddly soothing.
Narcissa had been a bit more reserved in the castle ever since William White's incident. It puzzled the brunette somewhat, but the older witch truly opened up whenever they were back at Black Manor – which was at least two or three times a week these days. They had long, deep conversations by the candlelight illuminating their research, about family, Hogwarts, and the War. Touchy subjects, to be sure, but Hermione was glad they were navigating them so well.
She recalled one instance, when they sat together at Black Library. Narcissa was helping her pick a few tomes for her research on Blood Wards.
"Merlin, there must be a million books in here" she groaned under the weight of about six heavy volumes. Narcissa smiled, carrying a much more manageable pile in her arms.
"I'm not certain. There is a number somewhere – this was painstakingly catalogued – I just don't know what that number is." She said, carefully placing her load onto one of the desks. Hermione's bounty was soon approaching thirty books, and the brunette could not be happier about it.
"I'm just saying; I might be the biggest bookworm to have ever lived, and I don't think I've ever seen so many in one place!" she said truthfully. Was Narcissa blushing?
"Ms. Granger, I highly doubt that. You, such a worldly, travelled witch must have seen your fair share of beautiful libraries around the world." The blonde countered bashfully.
"Not really."
Narcissa seemed surprised. "Not at all? Why, didn't you travel around the world during your time in the Ministry?"
"I suppose" Hermione said, frowning at the realization that she had, indeed, travelled around the world for her job, and yet she had seen next to nothing of it. When she was in Paris, she was busy dismantling an international wizarding terrorist cell; in Rome, she and Draco had almost gotten themselves killed pursuing Death Eater sympathizers; in St. Petersburg she had been knocked unconscious by an errant curse, and so on and so forth. "I guess my job didn't really give me time to see the sights." She finished lamely.
"What a pity." Narcissa whispered, separating the newly acquired tomes into neat piles onto the table. She sighed. "You must take some time someday, to see the great libraries of the world." Her expression became dreamy. "Lucius took me in our honeymoon – Coimbra, Vienna, Paris... The oldest, most magnificent libraries, Wizarding and Muggle alike. He knew how much I loved books."
Hermione hoped she had contained her expression of surprise, but it was in vain – once again, it was as if Narcissa had read her mind.
"His care for me surprises you." The blonde said evenly. It wasn't a question.
"I can't say that it doesn't." Hermione confessed, and wasn't that the truth? Ever since she had seen Narcissa's pictures – her wedding, her pregnancy, she and Lucius dancing happily in the garden – she had found it difficult to understand the true nature of Pureblooded relationships. "I thought your marriage had been arranged?"
Narcissa nodded, neatly arranging her pile of books so it stood perfectly straight onto the desk. "Indeed, it was." She commented flatly.
"Then... why did you seem so happy?" Hermione asked before she could think better of it. The blonde's features immediately darkened, causing the younger witch to backtrack.
"My apologies. It seems my nosy Gryffindor nature still gets the best of me at times." Hermione hissed out, mentally kicking herself.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself, Ms. Granger." Narcissa said. "I don't expect you to understand. I assume the nature of marriage is quite different for... for people of your lineage." She finished awkwardly, and Hermione smiled.
"Yes and no" she explained, drawing a confused look from the older witch. "In ancient times, the nobility often arranged marriages, you know, to keep the power and the prestige in the family. Even nowadays, some Muggle cultures practice arranged marriages, but I assume Pureblooded marriages are more closely related to the former."
Narcissa quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, I suppose. It is not totally unheard of, you know, for love to blossom out of arranged marriages." She commented. Hermione nodded in understanding.
"I suppose." The brunette agreed.
"That, of course, was not quite what happened to me and Lucius. Our marriage had my mother livid." Narcissa said, a hint of amusement in her tone.
"Excuse me? I thought your union was arranged?"
"Oh, it was. But the history behind it is quite complicated – you see, when my mother was young, she had promised to Abraxas Malfoy." The blonde clarified.
Hermione thought her chin would hit the floor. She only registered Narcissa's soft hand as the blonde gently pushed her mouth shut with a laugh.
"I know, quite unexpected. But yes, they were once betrothed, and the legend goes my mother was truly infatuated with him... So once he married some Half-Blood from France, you understand how she came to despise the Malfoy family."
"But I thought... I thought Pureblooded unions for uh... families of your caliber were often arranged from birth?"
Narcissa nodded. "That is true. But think of it as a financial or political arrangement. Times change, and so do needs and preferences. There is little the groom or bride-to-be can do to change their situation – their respective families, parents specifically, hold all that power."
Hermione took a few moments thinking about what Narcissa had just revealed. What a different world it would have been, if Druella had married Abraxas. Draco wouldn't exist. The Black Sisters, even.
"It's funny" Narcissa interrupted, an odd smile on her face. "I wonder, had my mother married Abraxas, if the Malfoy streak would have been broken."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Streak?"
"My father was always disappointed Druella never gave him any sons." Narcissa said matter-of-factly. "I wonder if that would have been the same with Abraxas – the Malfoy firstborn has always been a male. What if Lucius had been... Lucia?"
The sudden thought of a female with Lucius Malfoy's indomitable sneer was enough to bring forth a rather inelegant snort of laughter. It was enough to make the former Malfoy matriarch let out peals of laughter herself, and soon the two women were practically wheezing with the hilarity of the thought.
"In any case" Narcissa continued, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye "She was staunchly against my marriage to Lucius. But my father, of course, had the final say. Not that I minded – Lucius and I had always had a certain fondness for each other."
"I wonder who you'd have married, if not Lucius." Hermione said. Narcissa gave her an odd look, which led the brunette to babble on. "I mean, surely there must have been men knocking down your door. Your beauty has always been legendary at Hogwarts and..." She practically clicked her mouth closed as a flush furiously overcame her features.
"I suppose" the blonde said with a knowing smirk, obviously relishing in the younger witch's embarrassment. "There were always others waiting in the sidelines. Others were certainly considered. Rabastan, for example, was one – he was meant to marry Andromeda, you know?" She finished sadly.
Hermione's eyes widened. "But... Andromeda had already run off with Ted Tonks?"
"Yes" Narcissa confirmed, suddenly playing with one of the ornate rings she adorned, her discomfort uncharacteristically; evident. "She and Ted ran off before she started her seventh year. They married that summer."
A heavy silence descended upon the two women. While they had been able to talk about almost anything in their little research rendezvous, Hermione was quick to ascertain Andromeda was off-limits. Which was very strange, in her opinion – Narcissa had opened up about so many deep, dark secrets from her past, why could she not speak of her last living relative?
Narcissa's discomfort did not sit well with Hermione. With that in mind, the brunette decided to switch gears – another Muggle expression she'd have to explain some time.
"Rabastan, huh?" She said, a look of feigned disgust upon her face. "You could do better."
Narcissa smiled, evidently grateful for Hermione's effort.
"I did." She quipped.
Hermione had not realized the sun had set as she mused over past conversations. Her desk looked impeccably organized, more than it usually did – it was a clear sign she had been on auto-pilot, moving things around as she let her mind wander. She smirked to herself; not that was a useful quirk.
It was close to dinnertime, she noted, leaving her pristine office. A few scattered students were quick on their way to the Great Hall, and the Transfigurations Professor followed, leisurely strolling through her beloved castle.
A loud bang and the squeals of children startled her as she turned the corner. With the practiced ease of an experienced dueler, Hermione had her wand in hand before she had even truly seen the commotion: Peeves was making it rain pots, pans, and cauldrons over unsuspecting students.
"IMPEDIMENTA!" She shouted, stopping the volley of metal in the air. The targeted students ran off before the spell could wear off, and Peeves the poltergeist floated above it all, laughing and doing pirouettes.
"Peeves!" Hermione hissed. It had been a while since she had to deal with the exasperating poltergeist. Anytime she had to do it again, it was always too soon. "Stop this racket right this minute. Don't make me send for the Baron!" She threatened. Peeves wolf-whistled.
"Grummy-grubby-Granger not up for a night of mischief? Settle your sanctimonious self, sad, sad Granger!"
"Peeves! I will send the Baron after you!"
"Send for some slithery Slytherin to search for other sly slithery Slytherins! Someone's been naughty today already, sneaking and stealing stockings of sassafras and all sorts of slimy stuff; don't come speculating after sorry spectres such as I!"
"Peeves." A voice came, calm and collected, from behind Hermione, making the brunette spin to see Narcissa staring angrily at the jokester.
To Hermione's surprise, the poltergeist's demeanor changed completely once he directed himself to the blonde.
"Lady Black, Lady Black, do forgive us, ma'am! No need to summon the Baron, Peeves is quite well behaved, there's no need to trouble yourself, Lady Black, Lady Black." He said, disappearing in a sudden puff of pink smoke. The pots that had been suspended in the air came clattering down, crashing and banging onto the marble floors.
Narcissa waved her wand absent-mindedly, instantly vanishing the mess.
"What in Merlin's name just happened?" Hermione broke out, stunned. Narcissa merely quirked an eyebrow.
"I beg your pardon?"
"How did you just make him go away so easily? Poof, just like that, and he was gone." She said, still unable to process how effortlessly Narcissa managed to get rid of the pesky spirit. "I'm usually sat there threatening him for a half-hour" she finished sourly.
Narcissa only smiled. "Being Slytherin's Head of House certainly comes with a few perks" she explained, gracefully putting her wand away. "The Baron is quite amenable to my requests."
"I'm not going to lie, that makes me insanely jealous." The brunette quipped, much to Narcissa's delight.
The two walked in companionable silence to the crowded Great Hall. Most students and staff were already seated and eating, and Hermione noticed the Bloody Baron float through the space above them, sparing them – or Narcissa – a short nod in acknowledgement. Strange.
At dinner, Neville was particularly excited to speak to them about the progression of what he called 'The Manor Project'. Narcissa didn't care for the name, Hermione secretly loved it.
"It's unfortunate we had to push it back, but do you think we'll have it ready by summer?" He asked enthusiastically over a plate of stew.
"Mr. Longbottom, Hermione has just started her research. Let's try not to get ahead of ourselves." Narcissa said tactfully.
"I don't know, Ms. Black – you know Hermione is pretty good at this research stuff" he said, winking at the brunette in question.
"Thanks, Nev. But I did just start. I've found lots of interesting things, but nothing concrete to help us just yet." She admitted bashfully.
"Keep in mind, Mr. Longbottom – those wards are among some of the most ancient in Britain." The older woman countered, daintily swirling her honey-wine in her goblet. "To truly crack them, one needs a great deal of time and an even greater deal of talent."
Neville mock-scoffed at Narcissa. "Madam Black, do you not think the Brightest Witch of her Age has what it takes?" He snipped, hand resting dramatically upon his heart. Hermione laughed.
"Au contraire, Master Longbottom" Narcissa said, but her gaze was fixed upon Hermione's. "I have no doubt Ms. Granger will easily exceed even our wildest expectations." She finished with a sip of her wine.
Hermione couldn't help but preen under the praise, though Narcissa's cool gaze sent unfamiliar shivers down her spine. She did not have time to think about the reaction, however, as a commotion broke out at the Slytherin table.
"Help! Somebody, help!"
The three professors immediately turned to the direction of the shouts. Narcissa and Minerva were already rushing down to the Slytherin table, where a handful of students were desperately clawing at their necks, red-faced and foaming at the mouths.
"Clear out! Give us space!" Narcissa shouted, and it was the strangest sound Hermione had ever heard – she had never witnessed the blonde raise her volume in such a way, and it sounded unnatural and frightening.
Hermione and Neville joined other professors, quickly moving curious students away from the commotion; they directed a few Prefects to help trying to control the throng as Narcissa knelt by a fallen student Hermione recognized as Edgar Davies, cupping his cheeks, which were beginning to turn blue.
"Accio Bezoar!" Narcissa whispered harshly, and soon enough students and teachers alike were ducking out of the way from flying boxes, no doubt summoned from the Potions Professor's quarters.
"Minerva, Poppy, take some; this looks like a common poison, we have no time to..."
Narcissa was unable to finish her efficient commands as the most absurdly strange thing happened. Davies' skin started to bubble, his choking began to calm. All looked to the fallen boy with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity; Narcissa had quirked an eyebrow when it happened:
An angry green rash began to form on Edgar Davies' neck and cheeks; a viscous purple plant began to sprout out of his nostrils and ears. One quick look around the area showed the six students affected, all of whom had previously been choking desperately, in similar predicaments.
Davies looked like a deer in headlights as he began to pull at the plant coming out of his ears. "What's happening to meergh!" He barked, as fistfuls of dirt began to form in his mouth. As he panicked, he noticed the green rash – it had spread from his face to his arms and hands, slowly turning the boy into a walking vegetable.
Narcissa stood with a mighty roll of her eyes, helping the gob smacked young man to his feet. Pomfrey and McGonagall stood petrified, bezoars in hand and unsure of what to do, waiting for the Potions Professor to direct them.
"It's nothing to be afraid of, Mr. Davies" Narcissa said softly, trying to pry Edgar's attention from the dirt still spilling from his mouth. "It is merely a Green-Fingered Draught." She explained, much to the shock of most present. "I'm afraid you've been tricked by a gardener."
The declaration made the earlier gasps of horror and shock turn into crazed peals of laughter as the students witnessing the spectacle realized their peers were not in any danger. The entirety of the Great Hall erupted in raucous laughter, the Prefects' and teachers' calls for order going ignored.
"Silence!" Came Minerva McGonagall's booming voice, reverberating off the walls thanks to a Sonorus charm and quieting the Hall at once. "Prefects, lead your Housemates to their Common Rooms. You may all finish your supper in your Common Rooms; food will be brought to you. Dismissed!"
It was a good hour and a half later that all Professors were tightly packed into Minerva's office, after seeing that the affected students had been properly cared for. As it turned out, the Green-Fingered Draught was mostly innocuous – according to Narcissa, it had been created by naturalist Wizards eager to 'become one' with their gardens. She also explained it had some significant hallucinatory effects to it, which is why Edgar and the other Slytherins targeted had been confined to the Hospital Wing for observation – they had begun to see butterflies and badgers where there were none. They were also trying to pick flowers from each other's heads.
"Poppy, how are they?" Asked Minerva, turning an apprehensive eye to the Matron.
"I have separated them – the effects are harmless, but quite a handful. They should be fine by morning or soon after."
"Good" agreed the Headmistress. A wave of relieved nods seemed to permeate the room. "While the potion is fortunately inoffensive for the most part, students were essentially poisoned during dinner. That is unacceptable behavior" she said, looking stern. "I ask all of you to remain vigilant – pranks, as we know, are all too common, but this is a step too far. If someone somehow tampered with these students' food, that opens up all sorts of much darker possibilities."
Minerva then turned to Narcissa. "Ms. Black, what else can you tell us about this Green-Fingered Draught?"
"As Poppy said, it is harmless. It is a fairly simple potion to brew – simple ingredients, simple method, and simple instructions. Anyone could have brewed it."
"A student?"
"This potion is not in the curriculum, though it is not impossible for a student to have come across it during research. They would, however, come upon some difficulties in procuring all the necessary ingredients."
Minerva raised her brows in interest. "Why would that be, Ms. Black?"
"The main active ingredient for the Green-Fingered Draught is Sassafras Pulp. It is not in the ingredients list for any year, and I have just checked my stockroom – there is none missing." Narcissa pointed out. Hermione almost didn't listen to what the blonde was saying; instead, her mind was running a mile a minute.
"Peeves!" She exclaimed suddenly, startling all present.
"I beg your pardon, Ms. Granger? Do you actually think Peeves the poltergeist brewed a potion?" Flitwick commented, his air baffled.
"No, no, no!" Hermione said, shaking her head. "It was something he said earlier" she turned to Narcissa. "When he was dropping all those pots in the corridor."
Narcissa and Minerva looked at her with interest. "What did he say?" Narcissa asked.
"He said something about someone 'stealing stockings of sassafras and... and all sorts of slimy stuff', I think" Hermione breathed out.
"Ms. Granger, Ms. Black checked her stockroom. There was no Sassafras missing, so no one could have stolen it." Minerva said, looking a tad confused.
"Wait," Neville interjected. "Did he specifically say 'stockings of sassafras'?"
Hermione nodded. "I'm almost positive."
Neville looked triumphant for a moment. "I know where they stole it from. Come with me."
Minerva dismissed most of the professors from her office while she, Hermione, and Narcissa followed hot on Neville's heels. He spoke animatedly as they made their way down and out of the castle, walking swiftly over a grassy pathway leading to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.
"There's an old, old greenhouse just down South of here" he said, gesturing over the path they now walked.
"It was used for NEWT-level Herbology and Apothecary Sciences at the turn of the century. I rediscovered it last year and was thinking of making it functional again."
The group stopped by an old edifice that had obviously seen better days – a thick mesh of vines seemed to be holding it up; its stone structure was completely covered with it, and the few remaining panels of glass were either broken completely or too murky to even look like glass. But what caught Hermione's attention were the foul-smelling leather pouches hung all around, on the greenhouse, on nearby trees – there were hundreds scattered everywhere she looked.
"Sassafras stockings." Narcissa murmured.
"Yes." Neville said. "The sassafras plant keep rodents and other undesirable critters away. These pouches contain the fresh sassafras inside, left to ferment – the smell cleanses spaces of unwanted weeds, as well."
"Merlin, I think it cleanses the space of anything that breathes. Good Godric, that is foul!" Hermione snipped, covering her nose with the sleeve of her robe.
"This can't be it. The Green-Fingered Draught requires fresh Sassafras Pulp; the fermentation would render the plant ineffective." Narcissa said. Hermione saw her face return slightly to the odd look she sported when they first met – that of someone who had shit under their nose. The brunette held her laughter; at least now the blonde had an excuse.
"Maybe, but Sassafras takes months to ferment. The ones here at the front were put in two months ago. But I have several others down at the back that I only put on this morning. They'd still be fresh."
"This morning?" Minerva pressed, undeniably impressed. She turned to Narcissa. "How long does it take to brew this Green-Fingered Draught?"
"Less than a day. It's quite a simple concoction."
"We have to find Peeves" Hermione interjected. "I'm sure he saw someone. He can tell us who."
"We should also look at students who missed any classes today" Narcissa said suddenly. "While the potion itself is quite simple, one needs to watch it constantly; missing the adequate points of addition render the entire batch useless."
Hermione immediately volunteered to check the attendance records for the day. Narcissa followed, while Neville took his time examining the greenhouse to ascertain how much sassafras had been stolen. Minerva said she would personally take care of Peeves, and the group quickly disbanded.
It was shortly an hour later that Hermione and Narcissa found themselves elbow deep in attendance sheets. Hermione had come to a startling revelation: a lot of students skived off class. Narcissa had only laughed when the brunette pointed it out.
"Really, Hermione, have you never missed class in your lifetime?" Narcissa asked with a chuckle. Hermione shook off the strange tingle she felt whenever the blonde called her by her first name.
"Only under extraneous circumstances! Such as being petrified, or on the run from a genocidal maniac." She muttered sourly. She looked at Narcissa from the corner of her eye. "You?"
"I must have skipped half of my Divination lessons" Narcissa admitted with a knowing look. "I must admit I'm surprised you didn't do the same, given your dislike for the discipline."
Hermione could not help a smile, but groaned with one look at the pile of sheets on the table before them.
"This is useless" she moaned. "Many of these were in the Infirmary, and several others were in their rooms all day – no House Elves mentioned anything about students brewing potions in their dorm rooms."
"Which means the person responsible did it somewhere else." Narcissa said in a defeated tone, tossing a sheet back in the pile. "Think: what is a good corner of this castle to do things unnoticed?" She said, overly seriously, but with a hint of mirth in her eyes.
Hermione cackled. "Let me see... there are about a million." She laughed as Narcissa joined.
"Oh, this is hopeless." Narcissa snipped. "It's no use."
Hermione sat down, her head in her hands. "There must be an easier way to do this. But maybe if we talk to Edgar Davies..." She drifted off suddenly, her eyes wide as saucers.
"Ms. Granger?" Narcissa called, eyebrow quirked. "Hermione?" She tried again when the brunette said nothing.
"Davies!" Hermione suddenly shouted, startling the other witch.
"What about him, Ms. Granger?"
"He was in the scuffle with Will White! Neville told me he knew a few older Slytherins, Davies among them, were involved. But William never wanted to give us any names." She said, speaking unnaturally fast. She whipped her head towards Narcissa. "Who were the students poisoned by the Green-Fingered Draught?"
"Edgar Davies, Andrew Miller, Sarah and Louis Bodart, Genevieve Hawthorne, and Samuel Cambria." Narcissa drawled out, understanding dawning on her features. "They're all Edgar's usual posse."
The two witches looked at one another in shock, a heavy and strange silence hung in the air. Hermione was the one to break it in a baffled whisper.
"I think Will White may have done this."
