The next day, Hermione woke up with a splitting headache and a ringing in her ears. Her thoughts were hazy, and she found herself not able to clearly remember the events of yesterday. She tried to recall how she ended up in such an unfamiliar room, but it worked her up, as though she was trudging through waist-high mud. She opened her eyes to see that she was not in her own bedroom, but in a much more beautiful one. The bed she was lying on was massive. It would fit five fully-grown adults. It had a canopy framed with sheer white curtains. To her left was a big window seat with a view of a lush garden. The sun poked through in rays of white and gold, stinging her eyes. On the other side of the bed were a big bookshelf and a tall desk with flowers atop it.
She had no idea where she was, and for that, she started to cry.
There was a small pop, and a house-elf appeared in front of her. "Miss Lestrange, please don't cry!"
Hermione shrieked. "Who are you?"
The house-elf beamed. He put a hand to his chest "Dobby is your new caretaker. Dobby is very happy to meet the little Miss."
She crawled across the bed to talk to Dobby. "Where am I? How did I get here? I'm not at home anymore, am I? Where's-" a strange yet familiar name popped into her head. "Poppy... Poppy, my house-elf? Do you know where she is?"
Dobby's face grew more worried as Hermione fired questions at him. Thankfully, Narcissa entered the room before he had to answer any of them.
"Hermione, you're up." She smiled. Instantly, Hermione felt a wave of serenity wash over her. She was not in any danger, her subconscious told her so. Narcissa is here. She is someone you can trust, it said.
"Mrs. Malfoy! Thank goodness." She hopped off the bed and hugged Narcissa's legs. The Malfoy matriarch's heart melted for the little girl. She was going to be attached very quickly. "Where am I?" She asked when she pulled away.
"You're in my estate, little one." She said.
"Es-estate? You live here?" Hermione looked around the room.
"I live in the house outside. Do you want to see it?" She asked. The child nodded. She took Hermione in her arms and walked to the window, pointing to the building behind the garden. It was a structure with big, vertical windows, several pointy roofs, and harsh lines creating harsh shadows upon the garden. Half of it was grayed and bland-looking, while the other half that was not in the shadow was lush and vibrant in the heat of the sun. The main house looked cold, uninviting, and almost cruel. It did not at all reflect what kind of person its matriarch was. Hermione was relieved she didn't live there.
"It's very big… and scary." She sheepishly muttered.
Narcissa nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is."
She turned to the child and noticed her outfit. The child wore a pair of silk pajamas, but deep down, Hermione had a feeling that they did not belong to her. She was right. In fact, Narcissa had rummaged through her son's wardrobe the night before, so she could find temporary garments for the new addition to their household. The Muggle clothing Hermione had been wearing had to be burned at once. Nobody was to see it except Narcissa herself. She had found a matching pair of violet pajamas that her son had never worn because it was hidden in an inaccessible corner of the dresser.
"Have you seen your wardrobe? I had everything transferred from France." This was, in part, false. Narcissa had come from France, but she came from their equivalent of Diagon Alley. She had bought several little dress robes, shoes, hats, and all kinds of clothing for all occasions. All were magically charmed to fit her exactly. They appeared in her wardrobe the second Narcissa stepped inside the bedroom.
"I haven't," Hermione said sheepishly, eyeing the smaller door next to the bookshelf.
"Better get dressed then. You'll be having breakfast with us today. I want you to meet my husband and son." Hermione watched as Narcissa walked to the larger door and addressed Dobby, who was still next to the bed. "Lead her to the dining hall in an hour, will you, Dobby?"
"Yes, Mistress Malfoy!" He nodded. Before leaving, she smirked at Hermione and gave her a wink. And then, she was gone.
Draco Malfoy woke up every day at exactly eight o'clock in the morning. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had told him that respectable and productive people both wake up and sleep early. This rule, among others, is what drove little Draco to follow his father's every instruction. If he wanted to be successful one day, he absolutely must follow his rules. He had cemented it into his brain. Young the little boy may be, but disobedient he was not.
He splashed his face with water and brushed his teeth before changing into daytime clothes. Breakfast is promptly served at eight-thirty, courtesy of his mother. Although she did not do any cooking, his mother was in charge of telling the house-elves what to do.
Draco checked his reflection in the mirror, gave a toothy little smile to the boy who looked right back at him and headed downstairs.
It took him quite a while to walk to the dining room because his bed chambers were the farthest rooms from it, but when he did, he found his father seated at the head of the long table. He was reading this morning's copy of the Daily Prophet. Lucius spotted his son walking towards the table, and he gave him a curt nod.
"Good morning, father." Draco greeted and settled into his seat at his father's left side. The food was not yet on the table, and Draco took one look at the grandfather clock above the mantle to confirm that it was too early. Eight twenty-eight, to be precise. Not yet eight-thirty. He noticed his mother's absence. She usually sat right across from Draco, but this morning, she was not there. Draco looked for her in the direction of her wing of the manor, but he did not find her either. He was just about to ask his father where she was when her bell-like voice sounded from the back patio, behind Draco.
"Good morning, Lucius. Morning, sweetheart." She walked from the doors of the garden to Draco and kissed the top of his head. Draco smiled. She ruffled his hair a little, and he feigned annoyance while fixing it back to its tame state, chuckling all the while.
"Well, I am absolutely famished. Where's the food-" before she could finish her sentence, breakfast appeared on the table. "Oh, there it is." She laughed. Lucius put his newspaper down, not a single emotion crossing the man's face.
They did not eat in complete silence. Lucius told Narcissa about developments in Gringotts and how they needed to act fast so that by the time the market adjusted, they wouldn't have to use separate accounts… it all went through one ear and out the other. Talking about money and business simply bored Draco to no end. He was content to tune them out and focus on making sure his cutlery did not make too much noise.
He winced at the memory of the time that happened. His fork sliced down on the meat too heavily, and a harsh clang sounded from it. His father's profile had turned to him in a mask of indifference, but his words were hardly so. He seethed at him and gave him a lecture about manners. Draco could remember it as clear as if it had only happened yesterday… because it did.
Draco was snapped out of his memories by his mother exclaiming. "Oh! I'd almost forgotten!" She was looking at the garden behind Draco as she talked as if someone was there. He turned his head to check, and sure enough, there was a little silhouette of a house-elf peeking from the entryway. He turned back to his food, disinterested again.
Narcissa stood from her seat and rounded the table, walking towards the house-elf. This behavior was not normal, for Father once told him that he must never excuse himself from the table unless he was completely finished with his food, and his utensils were fixed in the twelve o'clock position, indicating the meal's completion. Draco looked at his mother's plate-it was still full and her utensils were scattered-and wondered if Lucius would scold her too. From the look on his father's face, he wanted to.
Draco turned to his mother, who was now confronting the hidden house-elf in hushed tones. It was not long before she faced her family.
"Lucius, Draco… I'd like you to meet Hermione." She stepped to the side, revealing not a house-elf... but a little girl. Draco's eyes widened in surprise. This was definitely not normal. He was not dressed to meet somebody today, so he had donned plain clothes he usually wore at home. Had he known they were to have a visitor, he would have worn his nicer, more expensive robes.
Narcissa took the little girl—Hermione's—hand and led her to the empty seat next to Draco. She looked around her with terrified eyes. No doubt, she was apprehensive towards the strangers who faced her now, because she was reluctant to let go of his mother's hand. The same food appeared on the plate next to Draco, the visitor's plate.
Narcissa pried her fingers from the girl and went back to her seat. She started explaining the girl's appearance, "Yesterday I visited Bella in Azkaban. She told me that Rabastan was k- gone," she caught herself before slipping up in front of the girl. "But that... he had an heir." Lucius's brows furrowed, exhibiting the first sign of emotion from him. "Hermione is Rabastan's daughter. She is the youngest Lestrange." She said.
Lucius's eyes bore into the little girl next to Draco. She squirmed uncomfortably. "And the mother?" He asked slowly.
"Margaux Avery." Narcissa said.
"Avery?" Lucius sounded disbelieving. He looked at his wife, and she nodded once. "Their bloodline is extinct."
Narcissa shook her head. "Apparently not. The remaining Averys fled to France after the war. Hermione's mother was the very last. She passed away in labor." She said lowly, perhaps to avoid having Hermione hear. Draco looked at the girl. She was now staring at her plate, not seeming to be enthusiastic, despite the grand meal in front of her.
Narcissa continued. "Bella asked me to take her from France, and I did. Hermione lived in the Avery estate, with no one but a single house-elf to care for her." Narcissa shook her head solemnly and continued, "once Bella is released from Azkaban, she will take charge of raising little Hermione. But until then, she is our responsibility."
Draco watched his father closely. He looked as if he were about to object, but Narcissa interrupted him. "After all... she is the last living Avery, as well as the only Lestrange who isn't locked up." She gave no room for Lucius to challenge her on the matter because she knew that her husband wouldn't turn down an opportunity to claim that he was responsible for taking in and saving the last member of a pureblood family. Lucius liked to play the hero.
Draco looked at Hermione next to him. Her lower lip was jutting out, trembling slightly. She was uncertain, she was afraid. He was not a stranger to those feelings, because his parents talked about him often as if he was not present as well. He felt the urge to comfort her somehow-nudge her foot, smile at her… but his father would not want him to entertain such thoughts. After all, this girl was still a stranger, no matter how important her bloodlines are. Draco stayed silent and unmoving.
"Her education?" Lucius asked.
"She will study with the girls her age, under Governess Rosier. If Bellatrix is not released by the time she is eleven, she will attend Hogwarts."
"And where will she be staying?" He grilled his wife.
"The guest house next to the garden, of course. I'll make sure she wouldn't be in your way." Narcissa said, a little venom making its way into her statement.
Lucius frowned. "Where will she get money for her expenses? Do you expect us to give her loans in the meantime?" He emphasized the word and said it with animosity in his eyes. Draco's father was not a wasteful man. He believed in investments, so putting his resources in the hands of a girl from a notoriously untrustworthy family was incomprehensible.
"Of course not, Lucius, dear," Narcissa said sweetly, though Draco knew that she was faking it. "The accounts of the Avery family will be transferred to her, of course. And she will also have access to the Lestrange family's vault, as she should." She paused. "Whyever did you think we'd give her a loan?"
His parents were silent, then. They stared each other down, neither one willing to surrender to the other. Lucius's barely concealed indignation versus Narcissa's smug confidence. Draco carefully gathered peas into his spoon and brought it into his mouth, making sure that he made no sound. He slowly chewed with his mouth closed as his parents continued their staring contest.
Finally, Narcissa broke the silence. "Is there a problem with Hermione's presence… dear?"
Lucius's eyes snapped to the little unmoving girl. Draco looked at her too, and it seemed as if she were on the brink of crying. Her brows were pulled together in a grimace and she bowed her head in such a way that her hair framed both sides of her face, as not to show the family her true emotions. On her lap, she twiddled her thumbs.
Lucius studied her for a while. Draco held his breath, as well as the little girl beside him. Narcissa was the only one who looked calm. Finally, Lucius said, "I suppose not."
Narcissa beamed coyly. She was about to say something before her husband interrupted her. "But," He started. "She will be staying at the guest house, as you said. That includes bed chambers, meals, and spare time. Just like everybody in this house, she will answer to me, and only me. Understood?"
Narcissa replied, "Of course."
Lucius did not look at his wife. "Understood, Miss Lestrange?"
The girl finally looked up and met the eyes of Draco's father. "Understood, Mr. Malfoy." She said. Draco was taken aback. He expected her to stutter a little… maybe cry or react in fear. He certainly did not expect her to make eye contact and speak in a clear, unwavering voice. Draco was intrigued. Hermione looked about his age, but she was definitely smart and perceptive. She was also… brave.
He liked that.
"Very well," Lucius said. "Best you start eating then, before Bellatrix accuses us of starving you." All tension in the room dissipated as his father turned back to his meal and continued to eat in peace. From across the table, Draco saw Narcissa smile and give a sly wink to the little girl next to him. Hermione smiled back, exposing a little dimple on the left side of her face. Draco idly wondered if it had a twin on the opposite side.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and picked up the knife and fork in front of her. She poked a solitary pea and popped it into her mouth. One corner of Draco's mouth lifted.
"Draco," Lucius barked. Draco jumped in his seat and looked at his father. "Didn't I tell you that it's rude to stare?"