The Great Hall

Sunday, April 18th, 1999

12:00PM

Draco,

It has come to my attention that your father and I have been quite remiss in inviting the young Miss Granger into our lives. As it seems she is an important part of your life, at least for the time being, we feel it prudent to invite you and your companion for a meal with us at your next available opportunity. Please pardon our bad manners in response to your new lifestyle choice.

Love,

Your mother

Draco rolled his eyes. Companion and lifestyle choicejumped out at him from the delicate paper his mother had written upon. He skimmed it again and then folded it neatly, returning it to the pale green envelope.

"Anything good, mate?" Blaise asked, leaning over.

Draco shook his head, lifted his hand to cover his mouth as he yawned. "Just something from my parents. Look, I've got to go and find Granger."

He ignored his friend's snort and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by and out of the Great Hall. Hermione had awoken early, having stayed up studying until close to three o'clock in the morning. Her sleep had then been punctuated by intermittent waking, reaching for the textbook on the nightstand, and it wasn't until five o'clock when Draco moved it out of her reach did she finally get proper sleep. That said, Draco distinctly remembered his witch rising before her alarm went off at seven, waking him on her way. The whole ordeal had left him exhausted and his mother's letter had been just another added frustration.

Knowing her all too well, Draco knew Hermione would be working desperately in the library. She had been seated at her usual table right at the back, surrounded by books and a furious, crackling energy of focus. He wound his way through the corridors, nodding at Neville Longbottom as he passed. He had listened to his girlfriend when she asked him to at least maintain a level of civility with her friends, keeping any snide remarks to himself whenever he was near them.

Madame Pince shushed him as soon as he stepped into the library, insisting his shoes were far too loud on the hardwood floors. She looked him up and down, noticing the lack of study materials on his person, and clucked her tongue. Draco rolled his eyes at the librarian's turned back and continued past the winding shelves and stressed out students. As he had guessed, his witch was at the most isolated table. Though normally for four people, she had spread her books and parchment out to cover the entirety of the wood, taking diligent notes from a book as he approached.

Draco said nothing, taking a seat across from her and picking up one of the books she had left open. "Granger, your exam prep is getting out of control," he said, reading the first paragraph on the page. It was a text on ancient runes and was well above the level of comprehension they were expected to have, even at NEWT level. "Even if you go into a position at the Ministry, you probably won't need to know this." He gestured at the book he had read.

"Draco, I'm trying to study," she said, not looking up.

He stared at his girl, the dark circles under her eyes and pallour of her skin. Her hair spilled from a wild bun atop her head and her clothes were unpressed. "Granger, you look like shit," he said. Remembering their argument over the Easter break, he continued: "And you know I don't mean that in an offensive way, but living on less than five hours of sleep and minimal food for over a week now isn't doing you any favours."

Hermione placed her quill down and looked up. "Draco, I'm fine. I need to work."

He stared at her and reached across the table, taking her hands in his own and squeezing them. "Granger, what's wrong? You're normally completely psychotic come exam time, but this is taking it to a whole new level. You're not sleeping, you're barely eating, and you're not even spending time with me. We all know how hard I am to resist so there has to be something wrong."

"Draco, please. I just want to keep working." She tried to worm her hands out of his grasp but he resisted. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. I swear."

Draco frowned for a moment. Outside of asking Daphne to help, he had no idea of how to resolve the situation he faced. "Fine," he said, relinquishing his hold. "But my parents want to have lunch with us next time we have a Hogsmeade trip on."

She paled slightly then shook her head to collect herself. "Would you mind apologizing on my behalf? I just have too much to work to warrant going to Hogsmeade."

"Granger, don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not."

"You can give the study a break for an hour to have lunch."

"No."

Granger-,"

"Draco, no. I'm not going to have lunch with your parents. I'm not exactly at the stage in my life where I can share a bottle of wine with Narcissa Malfoy and break bread with Lucius."

"I know it's a lot to ask, but they're my parents. They're going to be a part of my life whether you like it or not, and if they're a part of my life, they're a part of yours as long as we're together."

Hermione's eyes shone. "Your father is the reason I don't have any parents. He knew what they looked like. He's the reason I'll never hug my mother or kiss my father again. I'm not prepared to have lunch with the man who did that to me. Your mother, perhaps, after everything she did for Harry, but I don't think I will ever be able to look your father in the eye with anything but hatred," she said. She began to collect her books, piling them into a bag which he knew must have an extension charm on it. "I'm going to go back to my room and continue working. I'll see you later."

He heard her footsteps echo their way out of the library, leaving him alone at her back table.

Draco found Daphne in the spot she usually studied in when the weather began to warm up, curled by the lake with a book in her lap. He coughed to announce his arrival, not wanting to sit on grass. Daphne turned to look up at him.

"Draco, hello. What's wrong?"

"How do you know anything is wrong?" he asked.

"Because you very rarely seek me out unless you need my advice, and you often only need my advice when it comes to Hermione."

"I don't know what's wrong with her. She isn't sleeping or eating and she won't talk to me about any of it."

"And?"

"What do you mean?"

Daphne sighed. "You've never been very good at keeping anything from me, Draco. What else is there?"

Draco shrugged. "My parents want to have lunch with us. A meet-the-parents sort of scenario. She isn't too thrilled by the prospect."

"And you're surprised by that?"

"Well, no. But I assumed she'd be a bit more open to the idea."

Daphne closed her book. "Draco, your girlfriend was held captive in your parents' house. And although they didn't directly participate in her torture, they facilitated it. Your father has antagonized her since she was twelve for reasons outside of her control. They have shown no shame in outwardly and aggressively hating her purely because of her blood status, again, a reason outside of her control. You can't expect her to forgive them for years of agony, both physical and emotional, purely because you two are sleeping together, to be crass."

"But I expected her to be a bit more rational about the whole situation. Surely if our relationship is to continue, she's going to be spending at least some time with my parents," Draco said. He wasn't proud of how desperate he was beginning to sound. "I mightn't have the best relationship with them, but they're still my parents. You'd think she'd understand that."

"I'm sure she does. But she only recently lost her parents and that wound is still fresh. She might not talk about it much, but I'm certain it still hurts." Daphne stopped, frowned at him. "You know, you should be talking to her about this."

He mirrored her expression. "Normally when I talk to you I come out from it with a brilliant idea of how to better my relationship. This time, I feel distinctly disheartened."

Daphne smiled. "It's not always going to be sex and sunshine, Draco."

He rolled his eyes. "Charming, Daph," he said. "Fine. I suppose I should have a word with her."

"Take a box of strawberry Sugar Quills, if you can," she advised. "They always lift her mood."

After rifling through his trunk, Draco had managed to scrounge up a box of his girlfriend's favourite sweet. He followed the familiar path up to her dormitory, hearing the sounds of the record he bought her on their first date as he climbed through the painting hole and up the stairs. It had become quite a regular occurrence for Hermione to play the record, the sound dropping into the background as they relaxed in her dormitory. The album had grown on him and he knew it pleased Hermione when she caught him humming along to the tunes.

His girlfriend was looking especially frazzled, hair still piled manically on her head. She looked up at his arrival, frowning. Again, he was struck by the circles under her eyes. Before she could announce her annoyance at his arrival, he presented her with the box of Sugar Quills, kissing her on the cheek.

"I'm not here to talk about my parents," he said as he settled on the sofa. "I want to talk about you."

For the first time in a week, she smiled. "You talked to Daphne, didn't you?" When he nodded, she leant back against the couch, abandoning her study temporarily. "I'm sorry I haven't been particularly fun to be around lately, Draco."

"I'll forgive you, Granger, if you tell me why you're so stressed." She didn't reply, so he continued: "Granger, we're a couple. You're my girlfriend, and that means you should talk to me. It isn't healthy for you to bottle this sort of thing up, and believe it or not, I want to know what's bothering you. It matters to me, particularly when it's to the point where it's also disturbing my sleep."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but sighed. "Look, it's just that you are so certain of what you want to do. Ron and Harry have their careers handed to them on a platter. Daphne is following in her mother's footsteps. Ginny is being scouted out for Quidditch. Neville has a guaranteed position working here next year. And I have all of these years of hard work and absolutely no idea of what I should do when I graduate," she said. "And now, NEWTs are so close and I thought that by now I'd have my life sorted out. But there's so much I'm interested in and I know that I should do something meaningful with my life but I can't figure out what. In a few months, I won't have Hogwarts to fall back on and then what am I going to do?"

Draco leaned over, pulling her into him. "It's not about what you should do. It's about what you want to do," he said. "If I recall correctly from one of the first civil, albeit intoxicated, conversations we ever had, you wanted to open up a bookshop."

"But what sort of life is that? I'm not going to be doing anything meaningful. All I'll be doing is working a job in retail and that isn't going to help anyone."

"In the same way that books never helped you?" he offered. "You've spent your entire teenage life saving the world from people like my father, like me. You played an integral part in stopping the most dangerous, demented wizard of all time. You've done enough public service to last at least four lifetimes. Now, you need to do what you want to do. You can't keep trying to do what everyone else says you should."

Hermione bit her lip. "But I want to fight for equal rights and to abolish archaic pureblood laws. I want to work in government, too, but I can't make it my life. I don't know if my problem is that I don't know what I want to do or that there's too much I want to do."

"You can do it all, Granger. You can own your bookshop and you can work or volunteer or start your own sodding organization to promote equal rights. You're Hermione Granger, and as long as I've known you, you've been an overachieving, all-knowing witch who gets whatever she works for. Why would that change when you leave school?"

Hermione turned herself around on the couch to kiss him firmly. "I thought I was supposed to be the logical one in this relationship."

"Well, you've got to fall short sometimes," he replied.

"And I want to have lunch with your mother," she said. "I don't think I could stand it with your father there after everything he's put me through, but your mother saved Harry's life. And Daphne told me how much you love her so I want to be able to do it for you."

This time, it was Draco who instigated the kiss, pulling her in close and holding her face as he kissed her. "Thank you."

"You're my boyfriend, and I should tell you these things and learn to be comfortable around your family."

The Three Broomsticks

Sunday, April 25th, 1999

12:30PM

Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, standing at a table in the inn with Draco. His mother was due to arrive at any moment and she had spent the whole morning fretting over the meeting. She had been forced to visit Daphne to find an appropriate outfit, deeming all of her own sweaters and blouses to be too casual to meet Narcissa Malfoy in, and felt distinctly ill at ease in the new garment. Draco was at her side, nudging her every so often as he sipped at his Butterbeer.

"Granger, give it a rest," he said. "You look fine. My mother isn't taken by nervous people. They put her on edge and my mother on edge is not going to make for an enjoyable meeting."

"I'll give it a rest when this lunch is over," she said, punctuating it with a sigh. "Your family don't have a great history with me."

Draco pressed his palm to her cheek. "You'll be great." He kissed her lips chastely. "And when this is over, we can go back to your dormitory and not think about seeing my parents again for a very long time."

Hermione smiled at her boyfriend, opening her mouth to respond only to be distracted by the door to the tavern opening and Narcissa Malfoy's arrival. She was thankful she had borrowed a blouse from Daphne, the elder witch in an elegant dress more suited to a dinner party than a casual lunch at the inn. Hermione gripped Draco's hand firmly as she other witch spotted them, making her way over to them as she shrugged off her coat.

"Draco, my darling," Narcissa said, kissing her son on the cheeks. "Let me look at you. You're looking so well. So happy." The blonde turned to Hermione who froze under her gaze.

"Mother, this is Hermione," Draco said. Mechanically, Hermione lifted her hand. Narcissa took it softly, shaking it briefly. "My girlfriend."

"Of course. Lovely to meet you."

"You too," Hermione said.

Narcissa offered a thin smile. "Now, I've booked a private room upstairs so we can get away from all this racket. I can scarcely hear myself think down here. Shall we?"

Draco gestured for his mother to lead the way, leaning to whisper in Hermione's ear, "Relax."

"Draco, I'm not entirely sure this was a good idea," she replied in a low voice, but Narcissa was already a considerable way ahead.

"Just relax and you'll be fine," he repeated, leading her up a ramshackle staircase and into a private room.

Inside, a fireplace crackled brightly, casting a warm orange glow about the room. An intimate dining table had been set up in the center with three places set out, Narcissa already seated with her back to the fire, leaving Draco and Hermione to sit across from each other. Draco pulled her chair out for her before sitting down himself, Hermione fighting the urge to roll her eyes at his excessive display of manners.

"Draco, it seems you've taken to dressing down a touch," Narcissa commented as Hermione poured glasses of wine for them all. "Is that a trait you've developed from your new friend?"

"Girlfriend, mother," Draco said, sipping from his glass. "It's much more time efficient to not wear a suit every day. And it means I actually look like I'm deviating from my normal attire when I attend an event."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Narcissa said. "But you do look so good in a suit, dear. And it offers such a powerful image to the world."

"I'd rather offer that image when I have power to back myself up with and am not an eighteen year old schoolboy."

Narcissa clucked her tongue. "I'm only trying to help, Draco. You could at least pretend to be grateful."

Conversation paused as Madame Rosmerta arrived with bowls of pea soup, serving them carefully and checking to see if there was anything else they required. Hermione was certain some strings had been pulled, never having been subjected to such formal treatment by the pretty barmaid. Despite the War, it seemed the Malfoys still had some weight behind them.

"Now, Miss Granger," Narcissa began. Hermione felt her face flush. "What is it you hope to do after this school year has finished? You have quite an impeccable academic record, or so I have heard."

"I'm not sure," Hermione admitted. "I'm interested in both law and politics but I wouldn't mind working outside the Ministry, either. I'm somewhat interested in owning my own business, too, but I'm still not positive on that front, either."

"Well, not long to work it out now," Narcissa said. "Best be getting a move on."

"Mother," Draco said sharply. "I'm sure that no matter what Hermione endeavours to do, she will be successful."

"Of course." Narcissa finished her soup, topping up her own glass of wine. "I'm simply saying that if she hopes to get a position within the Ministry then she should start applying soon. All the best spots close up very quickly after graduation. I wouldn't want for her to miss out on a job purely because of tardiness."

Again, Hermione resisted the chance to roll her eyes. "With all due respect, I'm well aware of what I need to do in order to be successful in my future," she said. "I have my own plans set out for me and though I've deviated from them in the past, I've certainly always returned to the correct path and have maintained a high degree of academic excellence even when participating in various external activities. Should I aim for a position in the Ministry, I'm certain that I will be able to get what I strive for."

Narcissa offered a true smile. "You're very sharp, Miss Granger," the elder witch commented. "I appreciate that."

"I'm glad," Hermione said. "What is it you did when you left Hogwarts?"

Narcissa pursed her lips. "I never pursued a career," she admitted. "I was a year younger than my husband at Hogwarts and by the time I graduated, he was already well-established in his career thanks to a series of familial connections and a strong business ethic. We married shortly after my graduation and I spent my younger years as a devoted wife to my husband, as was the way back then."

"If you were able to repeat it, would you choose a different path?" Hermione asked, wondering for a moment if she was prying. She rejected the thought when she realised how much it irked her that Narcissa glossed over the seriousness of her relationship with Draco.

"I've always had a fondness for Herbology. Part of my life as a housewife was spent working on the grounds of Malfoy Manor to landscape them. Perhaps I would have followed that course, had my life allowed it," Narcissa mused. "Of course, I don't regret the path I've taken. A career is all well and good, but at the end of the day, family is what's important."

"And social status, mother," Draco said. "Don't forget that."

Hermione held her tongue at Narcissa's comment about family, knowing that for her, a career was where she was going to invest her future. Although a family was on the cards someday, she had never hosted any particularly strong maternal feelings and was all too happy to keep it that way, particularly for the time being. The thought of being a housewife was abhorrent to her, knowing she would be dreadfully bored if she didn't have anything to do all way.

She let Draco take over the reigns of the conversation for the rest of the meal, chiming in every now and then with a comment and answering the few questions Narcissa asked her. By the conclusion of the meal, her perception of the matriarchal Malfoy had shifted. Whilst she had thought the woman to be cold at their first meeting, she now saw that the woman was just fiercely protective of Draco. Though she admired the quality, Hermione wasn't particularly fond of the woman, perceiving her as rude and possessing a holier-than-thou attitude somewhat similar to her son's, though Draco's was nowhere near as developed.

"Well, mother, we better be heading back to the castle," Draco said, the clock close to three. He rose as his mother did, Hermione catching on a second too late.

"Of course," Narcissa said. "It was lovely of you to take time out of your busy school life to see your mother, darling."

"Anytime," Draco said, kissing his mother on the cheek. "We'll walk out with you."

He helped Narcissa into her coat, and this time Hermione did roll her eyes as she pulled her own coat on. Again, Narcissa lead the way out of the tavern and into the perpetual winter of the little wizarding village. Here, they paused as Narcissa kissed her son's cheek again and patted it fondly. She then turned to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, it's been a pleasure," she said, offering her hand.

"Likewise," Hermione said.

"Hopefully next time my husband can attend our meeting."

"Perhaps," Hermione said shortly.

Narcissa smiled at her son one last time before apparating away with a flourish of her wand.

When she was gone, Draco grabbed Hermione and kissed her firmly, snow settling on them as they embraced in the street. "Not bad, Granger," he said when they broke apart.

"She didn't seem too impressed."

He smirked. "That's how my mother does 'impressed'. Did you really think you'd get anything more than that?"

"No, I suppose not." Still wrapped in his arms, she kissed him again. "Let's go back to the castle. I've missed out on plenty of studying time with this lunch."

Draco rolled his eyes as he released her. "There's no way I'm letting you study, Granger," he said. "I've got something significantly more fun in mind."

"It should probably concern me that lunch with your mother gets you rearing to go in bed," she said as they began the trek home.

"You won't be concerned about anything by the time I'm done with you."