PART II
"The distance is nothing when one has motive."
Hermione stepped out of the floo into a gracious stone walled room with high raftered ceilings and mellow light filtering in through mullioned windows. She also stepped directly into the arms of Penelope Weasley, who shrieked, "Hermione!" and spun her around in a tight hug.
"Pen! It's so good to see you!"
"Give her some breathing room," chuckled a more restrained voice. Percy Weasley disentangled Hermione from his wife's grasp and gave her a quick hug and peck on the cheek. "But it is lovely to see you here, finally," he said, holding her at arm's length. "You look well."
"I am well, thank you, and better now that I'm here!" After a Portkey from London to Paris, another from Paris to Avignon and then a floo journey to the Weasleys' home outside of a tiny village, Hermione was feeling a little green, but also excited. "Finally the months of planning come to the point!" she smiled. "I'm so happy to be here with you both and I can't wait to get to work."
"But first a cup of tea after the journey?" asked Percy. She acquiesced and he ushered her from the large, dim sitting room into the light-filled kitchen and put on the kettle.
"Let me take your things," said Pen, commandeering Hermione's trunk. "You're staying in the cottage and all is ready for you, so I'll just have Aimee bring this out." A sweet-faced house elf curtseyed to Hermione, and she curtseyed back, much to the elf's amusement.
"Where are the children?" Hermione looked around, realizing it was strangely quiet.
"Artie is at Quidditch practice and the twins are at a creche in the village. I'll go get them in about an hour, so there's a bit of time to relax before the whirlwind!"
"Excellent. I've brought them little treats, I hope you don't kind." Hermione doted on all the Weasley offspring, considering them her honorary nieces and nephews.
"Of course not! You'll be their favorite auntie." Pen said. "Oh it's just good to have you here." She reached out and grabbed Hermione's hands, her clear green eyes slightly teary. Hermione smiled, a little teary too. It had been Christmas since she'd seen Pen and Percy—and Christmases at the Burrow were so chaotic they'd barely had time to chat.
Hermione had gotten close to Penelope when she'd started in Magical Creatures and Pen, a few years senior in the department, had been assigned to train and mentor her. They'd become fast friends, which had allowed Hermione to get to know Percy better too. He had mellowed considerably in the years since the war, his disillusionment with the ministry dampening his ambitions for a career there and prompting him to become a teacher instead.
The couple had moved to France two years prior because magical education for children started much earlier there and Percy's particular interest was in early childhood magical development. He was now deputy headmaster for a prestigious regional day school and Pen, always more interested in the practical rather than policy side of her work, had turned their 18th century farmhouse and grounds into a hospital and rehabilitation center for large magical creatures. Hermione had glimpsed a hippogriff with a bandaged wing in the paddock out the sitting room window when she'd arrived.
"So tell us all about your project plan," said Percy, and Hermione launched into a description of what she hoped to accomplish. Pen's background meant she was already knowledgeable about the bill of rights program and Percy's incisive questions deepened the discussion. As always, Hermione found herself appreciating how intellectually curious and well-informed they were—a train of though which inevitably led to Draco.
A little pang shot through her. She had been disappointed to learn that he'd had to leave London before they could see each other again, although his note had been sweet. She really had no idea how long she'd be abroad or when they would see each other next. And would they be able to recapture the spark between them when they did?
It was so new—and time, distance and beautiful women in the newspaper could do fatal damage. Hermione sighed inwardly, but resolved to put it out of her mind. She was here to do work she was passionate about and for which she had been preparing for years. She wasn't going to let a relatively brief flirtation, no matter how intoxicating, dampen her excitement over that.
Penelope suddenly jumped up, remembering the children, and rushed out to the village to collect them. Percy showed Hermione to the cottage so that she could unpack and settle in.
"Percy, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed as they approached the structure. A small building set at a distance from the main house with its own low wall and gate, it was made of light grey stone and built right into the side of a small green hillock. Dormer windows peeped from the front facade and climbing roses ran riot up over the doorway.
"Glad you like it." Percy's light blue eyes crinkled as he opened the thick wooden door and folded his lanky frame to duck inside. Hermione exclaimed again over the interior, which was also charming and consisted of a sitting room and kitchen and small bedroom with ensuite. The kitchen was dominated by a huge wooden table that she could immediately see would be her research command centre.
"I love it. Thank you so much for having me. It means more than I can say."
Percy cocked his head, "I think I hear the sound of the coming onslaught. Are you ready?"
Hermione laughed and nodded. They stepped out of the cottage into a swarm of children, seven-year-old Arthur competing with four-year-old twins Lucy and Giles for Hermione's undivided attention. Hermione handed out treats and heard the day's news (all at once) from the little ones, while Pen shepherded them to a large outdoor table laid for an informal dinner. After eating, the adults sat in the warm evening, chatting and watching the children run around in the twilight.
"So what finally put the project in motion?" asked Percy. "There seemed to be a block for ages and then suddenly you were coming in two days."
Hermione took a quick drink of wine. "Well as you may know, the herd ranges over a good-sized chunk of private land divided between several owners. Since this whole region is magical, I knew that many of the tracts would be warded, so I had to get in touch with the land owners to request access. All of them were very responsive and gracious, except for one—who happened to own the largest bit."
Percy and Penelope looked at each other with identical smirks. "Lucretia Black?" asked Pen.
"The very one. She never responded to my letters—and I wrote several ."
"I'm totally unsurprised," said Pen with a grin. "She's an eccentric. When we first came to the area we heard all kinds of stories about her. Most of them turned out to be true. But we've actually become rather friendly with her. She's a laugh."
"Yes," said Percy. "She's one of these old pureblood witches who are so rich and connected that they can do whatever they want. And she does. Including hobnobbing with muggles and declaring the British Ministry an amoral and defunct entity, which I rather enjoy."
"That's what I was told! She doesn't recognize the Ministry or open letters from people she doesn't already know." Hermione laughed.
"So what on earth did you do to get through?" asked Pen. "You could have asked us, but I'm not sure how much pull we would have had."
"An, er, friend, interceded." Hermione played with the stem of her wine glass. Pen and Percy looked at her questioningly. "Em, Draco Malfoy in fact. You remember him from school? He's her nephew and he wrote to her for me on Saturday. She granted permission on Sunday."
Pen's eyes had grown wider during this recitation, the end of which Hermione buried in her wine glass.
"Malfoy!? Do I remember…wha?" sputtered Percy. "You're friends? Friends to the extent that he wrote to Madame Black for you? How did that happen!?"
"I did see some photos of you in the Prophet with him a few weeks back, but I mentioned it to Gin and she said it was all a mix up and not what it seemed," Pen said slowly, her eyes sharp on Hermione.
"Oh that!" Hermione waved her hand at Penelope's question and responded to Percy's. "We met again through Harry's investment scheme a few months ago. I've gotten quite close with Theo Nott too. And Daphne Greengrass. They're actually all rather nice."
"But Malfoy? I have to say I'm surprised," said Percy, shaking his head.
"Well, he's changed. A lot. It's been so many years since the war," Hermione said in a rush. "Believe me I had the same reaction at first. But he's different. Even Harry gets along with him now."
"The Meadows is a very important contribution too," Pen said, still eyeing Hermione but turning to Percy, a slight warning in her gaze as he seemed about to break in and argue again. Percy subsided. "The person who built that has to have some redeeming qualities."
Hermione nodded eagerly.
"I'll just have to take your word for it," Percy said. "But he's still a Malfoy."
Hermione bristled inside but kept quiet. If she was going to pursue anything with Draco she'd have to get used to this. "Well there is no question that he helped me greatly. I can't believe how quickly things happened once he sent his owl. And now here I am, ready and eager to get to work."
"On that note," said Percy with a yawn. "We should probably round up the hellions and shove off to bed. We wake with cockerel here. Literally—he's over in that yard and he's very loud."
Hermione laughed. "That's fine. I look forward to a good dose of early-to-bed, early-to-rise country life. I've been knocking around the city far too long."
"Getting started first thing, then?" asked Penelope as she and Hermione floated the dishes into the house. Percy was rounding up squealing children and trundling them off to the bath.
"Oh yes. First on my list is owling Lady Black to thank her and let her know I'll be starting. And then I'm heading out into the woods."
"That is really rather lucky that you struck up a friendship with a person so close to her," mused Pen. "She could have made it rather difficult for you. She's one of those people where if you're in, you're sorted. But until she knows you, she can be very remote and inaccessible. We became acquainted because she needed help with an injured kneazle and I was able to provide care. And then she and Perce bonded over their mutual negative feelings for the Ministry. But if that hadn't occurred we could have remained strangers for years. There are still many in this area who have never been invited to her house or even introduced."
"Well I'd very much like to meet her. She sounds interesting."
"She is." Pen gave her a thoughtful stare. "And I have a feeling you will."
~oOo~
Over the next few days Hermione settled into an agreeable routine of rising early, (Percy hadn't been joking about the cockerel) spending mornings in the woods, using the afternoons to research and write then enjoying quiet evenings with the Weasley family—well, as quiet as it could be with three children under the age of seven. She was satisfied and had been making slow but steady progress with the herd. Her notes had grown copiously and she was hitting all the milestones on her self-created project timeline. If sometimes (ok, a few times a day) she sank into little moments of thoughtfulness, then blushed or heaved a melancholy sigh, she didn't share the reason why with anyone. On the whole, she was very satisfied with her work and her situation.
An exciting development came about a week and a half after she arrived in the form of an owl from Madame Black. It bore an invitation for the adult Weasleys and herself to dinner for Sunday evening. Hermione looked forward very much to meeting the person she had grown to regard as a larger-than-life character.
And Lucretia didn't disappoint.
Upon arrival at her manse, a fantastical confection of rounded towers and neo-gothic flourishes, Percy, Pen and Hermione were shown into an elegant 19th century drawing room done in the Egyptian revival style. Restrained flourishes of gilt and trompe l'oeil graced the walls and ceiling, which was at least 25 feet high and supported by graceful lotus pillars. The furniture and rugs looked museum-quality and there were priceless magical items interspersed with what appeared to be several original paintings by muggle masters.
Hermione was trying unsuccessfully not to gawk like the middle class muggle-born she was, when she sensed a Presence gliding through an open archway to her right.
"Darling Percy and Penelope, how lovely to see you!" sang out a carrying, but melodious voice. Lady Black swept into the room in a cloud of Pucci and matching feathered turban. Hermione's immediate impression was of a grande dame out of Georgette Heyer by way of the French Riviera circa 1972.
"And this must be Ms. Granger…" Hermione smiled at her hostess and Madame Black took her hands in a gracious gesture of welcome. Hermione noticed Penelope and Percy glance at each other in surprise. She was also surprised and touched by the show of warmth and her smile deepened as she looked into her hostess's sparkling eyes—an unusual shade of blue-violet—and felt an instant kinship.
"It's very good to meet you, Madame Black. I'm so pleased to be able to thank you in person for granting me permission to access your lands."
"Of course, child. Anything for a friend of the family." Lucretia smiled and Hermione felt her cheeks flush. "And I sense that in a very short while, we'll be friends on our own terms as well."
"I would like that very much."
"And here is dear Alain," Madame Black gestured to a tall and elegantly-robed wizard who seemed to have materialized behind her. Hermione suspected he'd always been there, but just eclipsed by their hostess's charisma. She said a polite hello and he stepped forward to bow over her hand. At closer quarters, she could see that he was very handsome and at least 20 years younger than Lucretia.
At that moment a few other guests were ushered into the room and Hermione turned to Percy and Penelope as Lucretia moved off to welcome the newcomers.
"Well done, you," murmured Pen as she sipped an aperitif. Hermione raised her eyebrows in inquiry and accepted what looked like a Kir from a very prettily attired house elf. "She was just very familiar," continued Penelope.
"I think she likes you." Percy nodded in agreement.
"Well I like her," said Hermione, taking a small sip of her drink. "She's not at all what I expected. She's rather free, isn't she?"
"Mmm-hmm," said Pen. "She's not at all the typical stuffy pureblood. She used to be a dancer. Maybe if we're lucky she'll pull out some old photographs of her days on the stage. She was in muggle productions and even films. The Blacks nearly disowned her over it. And her maternal family too. I think she didn't speak to them for years, but she outlived them all, so she had the last laugh."
Hermione chuckled. Madame Black continued to intrigue.
After a cordial half hour in the drawing room, the group was shown into an even more impressive space for dinner. Hermione didn't think she'd ever sat at such a grand table. Candelabra floated lightly above its polished surface and a truly staggering number of dishes came and went in the hands of an army of house elves. There were a total of ten for dinner and Hermione sat next to Percy and one down from Lucretia, who was at the head of the table. Alain sat at the foot and Pen was next to him. The other guests were assorted members of the local magical community, although as Percy had told her on the way over, Madame Black wasn't opposed to including muggles at her table as well. On those occasions, invitations to magical guests would include a note to refrain from any spellwork and the house elves would be replaced by human cooks and servers. Apparently Madame reveled in these breaks from magical tradition.
Hermione found herself enjoying Madame Black's conversation throughout dinner. She learned that she had been married four times, divorced twice and widowed twice. She'd been at the center of what seemed like every glamorous social movement or cultural scene since the early twentieth century. Exactly how old is she, Hermione wondered. Her original estimate of 75 now seemed like it might have been off. Sometimes her muggle assumptions still made her forget the realities of the wizarding world.
After dinner, the party proceeded to another sitting room, this one more richly decorated than the reception room, and easily twice as large. One wall was comprised entirely of double doors that were flung open to a stone terrace. The night was mild, and jasmine-perfumed air drifted in from vines that twined around the patio. Hermione wandered outside to inspect the beautiful view. Soft steps approached behind her and she turned to face Lucretia, who took a breath of the scented air.
"Ahh, deep summer. My favorite time of year," she sighed, looking up at the luminous moon. "I am a creature who craves warmth and light, which is why I left that cold, dark island you call home many years ago." The twinkle in her eye undercut any sharpness in her words and Hermione laughed.
"This is certainly seductive." Hermione gestured to the scene; the formal French garden silvered by moonlight, the air warm enough to be comfortable without a wrap.
Lucretia whispered a soft "lumos," and several large lanterns lit with flickering flames, adding to the romance of the setting.
"I feel a bit like I've fallen back in time," said Hermione dreamily. "If I turn around will there be people in regency dress dancing a quadrille?"
Lucretia smiled. "There were certainly balls like that in this house. Maybe you can sense the ghosts. In fact, there used to be a party every summer at this time, just before the weather started to turn. One could count on the beau monde to be in the country because Paris in August is intolerable."
"Oh I'm sure that was brilliant," said Hermione, fascinated.
"Masquerades, ridottos, house parties that lasted for weeks," sighed Madame Black. "Entertainment was an art form then. Perhaps I should revive the tradition and throw a ball myself. It's been rather dull here of late."
"That would be fantastic," said Hermione, taken with the idea.
"What am I missing? You look cosy." Penelope's playful voice came from behind them.
"Only my informal announcement of a ball in ten days time," said Madame Black with a wave of her hand.
"Capital!" said Pen. "Just the thing to break up the summer doldrums."
"And we'll not just have foxtrots and waltzes," said Madame. "There will be modern music as well. My Studio 54 days aren't that far behind me."
Hermione's brows went to her hairline and she gaped, seeing her surprise reflected in Pen's face.
"You'll have to tell us more about that," Pen said, grabbing Lucretia's arm and a glass of champagne from a hovering elf, then leading her toward a seating area.
"Yes, do tell…" Hermione echoed as she picked up two more glasses and followed in their wake, avid curiosity lighting her face.
~oOo~
Draco peered out at the incredible night skyline of Lower Manhattan and sighed.
"What's wrong?" asked Astoria, looking up from her book.
Draco started, not realizing he had put sound to his feelings. He turned to Astor with a half smile. "Nothing, really. Just contemplating the view."
She put her book down. "Mmm, I don't think so. You haven't been yourself lately. You passed up Double Indemnity at the midnight cinema and barely got excited when I showed you that first edition of On The Road I found at the bookshop. You weren't even moved by the pastrami sandwich at Katz's."
Draco's lip lifted with distaste—that sandwich had been obscene.
"You were so light those last few days in London. Since we arrived here you've been a bit flat."
He gave her a rueful look. "It's work and the time difference. I think I'm just tired." But Astoria continued to look at him skeptically and Draco cursed her perceptiveness. He'd been trying very hard to conceal the exact thing she'd picked up. He did feel a little deflated since they'd left London, but he wanted Astor to enjoy her time in New York. He had been looking forward to showing her this city for years. Normally he loved New York himself, but this visit he'd found it hot and crowded and smelling pervasively of rubbish. And he didn't want to think too closely about why.
He ran his hand through his hair distractedly. "The important question is, have you had a good time?" he asked, trying to shift the conversation.
"Oh yes, it's been marvelous. There's no place like this in the world!" Astor's eyes glowed. Then she put her chin in her hand and stared into the middle distance, "but I think I'm also a bit … tired."
Draco's gaze sharpened and he started to ask if she was all right, but she interrupted him. "I'm fine. Truly. The incident in London? Forgotten. This trip has been a wonderful distraction from…all that. The whole summer has been. I can't thank you and Daph enough for putting up with me." Her eyes swept over the floor at her feet.
He walked over to her, crouched down in front of her and lifted her chin with a finger so she was looking at him. "You don't have to thank me for taking care of you. I always will. Happily." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she placed her hand over his and nodded.
"So if you're tired of New York, what would you like to do next?" he asked. "There are what—six weeks—left until term starts? We could go back to England and stay with Theo in the country. Go elsewhere in America? Somewhere tropical?"
Astoria's eyes had dried and she looked rather sly for a moment. "Well, what I was actually thinking is that I'd like to go somewhere relaxing—where I can rest and prepare for starting school." She was watching Draco very closely and he returned her look, puzzled, trying to think of the best place to do those things.
Then the penny dropped.
"You want to go to France."
"YES. It would be so perfect, Draco. We can laze around the estate and do nothing and I can perfect my French so I don't embarrass myself at school." She looked eagerly at him and the impish expression crossed her face again. She also batted her eyelids a little too quickly.
"Did Daphne mention something to you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her and vowing to have a little chat with Daph when she got home. Astoria's French was already perfect and just the day before yesterday she'd been making noises about visiting New Orleans before they left America.
"Perhaps," she said demurely, twiddling a loose thread on her shirt. He stared at her silently. "Oh Draco!" she burst out, "I want to meet her! I always have done, but now? And Daph told me she's there to work with the herd. You know how much I love them. It's a perfect storm of opportunity!" Her eyes were really wide now and her speech had sped up to near lightning speed the more excited she became.
He put up his hands, unable to prevent a smile from tugging at his lips. "FIne. I surrender. We'll go to France."
She squealed with delight. "Let's leave tomorrow!"
"Under one condition," Draco said, setting his face in stern lines. Astoria quieted and straightened up, looking at him like the most obedient young woman in the world. "You do not interfere in my personal life. No hinting. No contrived meetings or happenings. No meaningful glances. No matchmaking at all. Nothing."
She nodded slowly, her eyes as wide as saucers.
"Theo is enough to cope with," Draco said. "And now, apparently, your sister." He began pacing.
"I swear to keep my nose clean, boss," she said in a terrible attempt at an American accent, holding up her palm and staring at him solemnly.
He stopped pacing and looked at her. Her pose was so silly that he broke into a real smile. "Fine, you minx!"
"See you're light again!"
He gave her a warning look.
"But I promise, I do promise to be good." She leapt up and gave him a hug. "So we leave for France tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow it is."