Chapter 4: We're All Mad Here

Hermione was currently wearing a hole in the violet Persian rug of her bedroom with her pacing. Her slender fingers were fisting her hair, pulling several curls out of her pretty French braid. Eyes shut tight to slow the river of tears trying to escape, she was muttering to herself, plotting how to fix her problem with Malfoy. Abruptly, she turned on her heel and almost fell when her slick sandal slid across the carpet. She scrambled to right herself and slammed open her door, running down the hall, then down the stairs. Eyes now open and blurry, she had trouble getting a grip on the handle of the second door on the left. Once she finally managed to open the door, she flew into the dimly lit room, collapsing at the massive four-poster bed in its centre. Her shaking legs stopped working below her and her upper body crashed onto the foot of the bed, now being wracked by mighty sobs.

Between gasps for breath, she spoke to the room. "I'm…so….s-s-so-orry! N-never meant this t-to h-h-happen!" She viciously wiped the tears from her eyes and tilted her head up to stare at the intricately patterned quilt. As her gaze slowly wandered to the head of the bed, her eyes stung with fresh tears, but she kept them open through the pain so she wouldn't miss any sign of the movement that she constantly hoped for.

Watery brown eyes rested on a face nestled in a pillow with raven ringlets splayed about. Everything about this face, from the meticulously sculpted eyebrows and high rosy cheeks to the full, glossy lips seemed to belong to a serenely sleeping woman. Hermione sniffled. She wished the woman was sleeping. The least the universe could have done for her would be to provide some nice, lovely dreams to keep her brilliant mind occupied. She glared at the woman's glowing olive complexion and willed her eyes to open.

"I don't know how this happened," she whispered. "We've been so very careful." A shuddered breath escaped her as she gripped the woman's hand through the covers. Her voice rose, desperation evident in her tone, "I don't know what to do. I need you. We need you. Wake up. Please wake up, love," her voice died down as tears overtook her.

"Fuck!" Hermione wailed, crying to all four founders for help. She gasped as inspiration suddenly hit her. She was a Gryffindor and by Merlin she would act like one! If the snake wanted to play, she was more than capable of handling him! Who had broken his nose in third year? Who had argued him into submission several times over? And who had outshone him in every single class at Hogwarts? If she wasn't able to outsmart Malfoy now, then there was something seriously wrong with the world.

After placing a gentle kiss on the woman's forehead, Hermione returned to her room, confidence restored. This time, she was ready to make a plan. She would protect her family at all costs. She just wasn't sure how yet. Already having ruled out asking Kingsley for help (she was actually quite afraid of what he might do if he knew what was going on), she searched her mind for a suitable assistant. She had to go about this with extreme caution—she didn't want any more possible information leaks.

Harry?

No, he was far too busy what with Head Auror duties and keeping up with Teddy and a pregnant Ginny. Besides, he'd ask too many questions for comfort.

No Weasleys, for obvious reasons.

Penelope?

Pfft! She was a Weasley now too, wasn't she? Is it at all possible that Percy married my secretary for spite? If anyone would, it would be him. Never mind that he reconciled with his family, he was still a grade-A prat!

Rosie?

Well, she would be the best choice if she weren't bound so closely to Kingsley. She could never keep a secret from him.

There was one other choice—she knew the witch would do absolutely anything for her, but she couldn't ask this of her for obvious reasons. Besides, it seemed a bit soon to be calling in favours from that quarter.

Hermione sighed and massaged her throbbing temples. She absentmindedly knocked back a swig of the red potion from her pocket. She'd already exhausted her list of friends and non-hostile acquaintances. Perhaps it would be best to go this one alone. A wicked smile spread across her face. As long as she didn't have anyone to hold her accountable in this situation, she could be as…creative as she wanted. Sometimes, she had almost convinced herself that had she been born a pureblood, she would've been placed in Slytherin. She let out a chuckle as a plan solidified in her mind. Tomorrow, she told herself.

**HGDM**

Draco was minding his own business, thank you very much. Sitting at his desk in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, filling out paperwork for the new missing person case, he was so focused on his task that he almost completely missed hearing the prim witch lurking behind him clear her throat. When he looked up startled, he recognized her as the former prefect Pennyweather-or was it Penelope? Clearwater from his Hogwarts days. He narrowed his eyes as she proffered him a small scroll of parchment. "Mr. Malfoy," she nodded before stepping back a few paces.

Quirking an eyebrow at the petite witch who seemed to be waiting for something, he cautiously unrolled the scroll. As he read, the colour drained from his already pale features and his eyes widened.

Mr. Malfoy,

Your presence is required in the office of the Chief Warlock immediately if at all convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway.

Regards,

Chief Warlock of Wizengamot,

Order of Merlin, Second Class,

Hermione J. Granger

Draco had known that she would eventually approach him, known and dreaded it. He looked back to Clearwater, who he only now recalled had been promoted to Granger's personal assistant. He inclined his head slightly and stood, straightening his robes and snatching his wand up from his desk before following the witch to the one place in the world that he didn't want to be right now. Well, that might have been an exaggeration. For example, he might be infinitesimally less comfortable in the middle of an active volcano or in his parent's room as they were fulfilling marital duties. However, he wasn't currently faced with either situation and likely never would be.

In an attempt to alleviate his severely overwrought nerves that were now causing his left eye to twitch, he cleared his throat and spoke to the witch leading him. "So, Clearwater, how have you been?"

The woman huffed indignantly, tossing him an icy glare before facing in front of her, chin now tilted in superiority. "It's Weasley now, Malfoy. And I don't think that's any of your concern. I'm under strict orders to escort you to the Chief Warlock's office without conversing with you."

Draco smirked. "And what is it we're doing now?"

Something akin to a growl came from the new Mrs. Weasley and Draco had to hold back a snigger. He was preparing to bait her again, but gulped instead, realizing they were already standing in front of an unassuming oak door with a familiar nameplate on it, the last barrier between Draco and his doom. He begged Salazar for the strength and cunning to get through the meeting unscathed, and if possible, the more knowledgeable for his troubles.

He watched with trepidation as Penelope Weasley knocked thrice before opening the door just wide enough to poke her head in and speak to the room's occupant. The exchange was low and quick enough that Draco didn't catch anything except his own name. The next moment, the door opened fully and he reluctantly led himself inside, wincing when it slammed shut behind him.

Draco looked up, blinking as he took in his surroundings. He'd been in the Minister's office once before, when dealing with the dispersal of his inheritance, but this office had to be at least twice as large. It was furnished richly, including an exquisite fireplace behind the desk and a whole ruddy wall of magicked windows. Merlin! Most offices were lucky enough to have one small window. Granger had obviously been given the royal treatment, courtesy of the minister, he suspected.

Between the large mahogany desk and the fireplace, in a crushed velvet wingback chair that could easily be mistaken for a throne, sat the intimidating figure, not of Hermione Granger the swotty know-it-all from Hogwarts, but of the Chief Warlock, complete with ceremonial robes and cap and a stoic gaze. "Please, be seated," she commanded in a soft voice, indicating the armchairs in front of the desk.

Sighing, he did as he was told, but kept his carefully crafted aristocratic expression. He did his best not to squirm under her piercing gaze. Still, he couldn't bring himself to look the witch in the eye. "Nice office you have here, Granger. Think it's big enough?" he gestured casually to the room.

The smallest trace of annoyance flashed in her chestnut eyes before she cleared her throat and sat up a bit straighter, though he didn't know how as her posture was near perfect. "As much as I enjoy arguing with you, Mr. Malfoy, now is hardly the time," she said in tone every bit as authoritative as Professor McGonagall's. Though he'd been a bit nervous up to this point, he wasn't truly scared until a slow smile spread across Granger's face, not touching the cold glare of her eyes.

"The way I see it, Mr. Malfoy, there can only be two outcomes of this meeting. For my part, I don't care which it will be. The first option: we will both leave this office with a level of assurance, you of your position here at the Ministry and I of your continued secrecy. The second option: you will leave without any memory of our time here or any memory of me at all from the past week, most likely with a hex-hangover." Here, Draco narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to protest but was cut off when Hermione raised her hand, for the first time showing the depth of her anger as she sneered at him. "Believe me, Mr. Malfoy, I will do anything in my power to ensure your silence and as your wand is with my secretary, I'm afraid you'd be quite out of your depth if you force my hand."

Draco's eyes widened as he subtly felt along the pocket of his robes for his wand and when he didn't feel it, he cursed internally and his body tensed. He didn't doubt that everything Granger had said thus far was no less than the truth. Pursing his lips, he gave a slight nod to the smug witch opposite him to continue.

**HGDM**

Hermione could feel the ghost of a smirk in her facial muscles but wouldn't allow the expression to form. She was almost positive that she had him but for now, she had to maintain the image of power. Her hand swivelled the sole piece of parchment on the oversized desk to face Malfoy. She gestured to the quill and inkwell to the left and nodded. "Take your time, Mr. Malfoy, and if you will, sign where indicated. You should know that this parchment constitutes a legal and binding magical contract."

She sighed when Malfoy reluctantly picked up the contract to read it. She was slightly nervous, though, at how long it took him to read it. Probably looking for a loophole. He would find none, though. Her granddad had been a barrister and had taught her how to make an ironclad deal by the time she was nine. It had made her an absolute nightmare for her parents, of course. Many an ice cream cone had been won in a similar manner, though she was well aware that the stakes were much higher with this particular contract. Its contents were simple and perfect. Once signed, Malfoy would not be able to speak about his recent dealings with her and in return, she would not tamper with his memories and provide a reference to the Department of Magical Sports. The consequences the contract provided for various infractions ranged from a physical illness similar to dragon pox to a potent silencing charm which could only be reversed by the other signer at their discretion.

To her surprise and immense relief, after only ten minutes and some huffing from the man opposite her, the contract had been signed and the deal was set. She took it in hand with an air of indifference, but her hands clutched the parchment like a lifeline. It was done and, though she would still have to keep a wary eye on him and be extra cautious in public from now on, she and her loved ones were out of immediate danger.

"Tomorrow then, Granger?" Malfoy's face was arranged in a more perfect emotionless mask than she could ever manage. For a moment, Hermione was envious of the ability before the words took their effect.

"Tomorrow?" she arched an eyebrow in question.

"Yes, since I am bound to silence, I intend to get the truth out of you one way or another. You see, my curiosity has been piqued and the mystery must be resolved. I imagine confiding in someone might do you some good as well. So, you may meet me at noon in this restaurant," he placed a slip of parchment with an address on it, smirking all the while, "or I will be at your office with gifts every afternoon until you consent."

Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. "You wouldn't dare," she seethed.

"Watch me," he said pleasantly before rising and sauntering out the door. "Tomorrow," he called out behind him.

Hermione put her head in her hands when the heavy door came to with an anticlimactic click. He would dare, though. She knew it now that she thought about it. When your reputation was already in tatters, there was little you wouldn't do to get what you wanted. Even if that meant feigning a relationship with a scarlet woman. And for whatever reason, it would seem that Draco Malfoy wanted her secrets. Very well then. Perhaps she should affirm the small bit of truth the Prophet published. Maybe he wouldn't dig deeper. Merlin knew the Weasleys didn't. Then again, he had a point. Was it time she unburdened herself of at least part of her troubles? Perhaps she could trust him with her secrets, as long as she didn't give him the family's. After all, she would absolutely help keep him in line.

**HGDM**

Draco sat in a corner table of Le Café Blanc at exactly a quarter to noon the next day. The classic French ambiance and crisp white fleur-de-lis wallpaper set him at ease. It resembled a breakfast room in the Manor, one of his favourite rooms in the house, since the Death Eaters rarely ventured there. Though it was a muggle restaurant, it suited him well and the cuisine was adequate. He placed his order and sipped his burgundy wine thoughtfully.

What am I doing? What if the truth is something I don't want to know? What if the Minister and Granger have kidnapped the child? Merlin! The oath and the contract wouldn't even let me tell anyone about it. What have I done? What have I gotten myself into? Why do I even care?

Thankfully, his panicked train of thought was halted when he saw Hermione Granger enter the cafe, her back to him. He recognised her from her beaded bag, though she had taken some pains to disguise herself even though they were in Muggle London. Subtle transfigurations on her hair and eyes would have made her unrecognizable to anyone who didn't know her. To anyone else in the cafe, it would have appeared that a nervous young lady with sleek golden curls and bright blue eyes in a red sundress was being led to a table in the back where an equally nervous lad with black hair and grey eyes, wearing a blue button-down with khaki slacks stood up and pulled out her chair for her. An elderly muggle couple looked on with indulgent smiles at what they assumed was a "blind date" as the kids called it.

Hermione had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle the giggle that exploded out of her. Her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened at the look of confusion on his face. "I'm sorry. It's just your hair and your eyes. You remind me of Sirius." She gave a wistful smile then hid her face behind the menu, glancing over it briefly to see that his shocked expression had yet to fade. She rolled her eyes and began to study the menu in earnest.

Draco didn't know what he expected from Hermione Granger after the last month, especially yesterday, demanding to know her secrets and all. But it certainly wasn't this. The bloody woman laughed at him! Genuinely laughed at him! And then she brought up his dead blood-traitor criminal cousin in public. Granted, he didn't give a damn about the blood-traitor thing. And he supposed he wasn't exactly a criminal, though he had spent twelve years in Azkaban. And no one in this public would know anything about him. But then, it wasn't just that she had brought him up. She had spoken of him with fondness. He wondered just what sort of relationship she'd had with his long-lost cousin. He narrowed his eyes a bit and shook his head. He would absolutely not let his mind go there.

The waiter returned and Hermione placed her order with a dazzling smile that had the poor chap fumbling for his pen. She shook her head pityingly and turned to her companion with a smirk. "So, what exactly was it you wanted to discuss?"

"You seem in a rather chipper mood today," Draco frowned suspiciously, finally allowing himself to survey her fully. She looked positively radiant. There was a glow to her transfigured golden curls and her face was naturally made up, with some mascara to brighten her large blue eyes and some gloss on her full lips, which seemed to be permanently smiling today. An odd thing when she was around him.

She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her Chardonnay, casually glancing at her watch. "Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I invited someone else along. They should be here in about thirty seconds." Draco's eyes widened then narrowed dangerously while Hermione's grin got impossibly bigger.

"You did what?! How the hell are we supposed to talk about anything if someone else is here?" Draco seethed.

"Language, darling!" a feminine voice reprimanded.

Draco winced and Hermione stood up and drew an undisguised, but muggle-attired Narcissa Malfoy into a warm hug. "How lovely to see you, Narcissa! You're looking exceptionally well."

"What, in these?" She gestured to her fitted trousers and navy pumps. "I don't see how you wear them, my dear. I find them quite...confining." She smirked as Hermione laughed.

"Oh, do join us, Narcissa. We've yet to begin the discussion and entrees haven't been brought out," Hermione smiled invitingly at the older lady.

Draco had been gaping at the witches through their exchange. As Narcissa took her seat, she turned to her son. "Oh, do try to keep your mouth closed, darling. That expression is most unbecoming." He cleared his throat and blinked several times to make sure that his vision was not failing him and that he was, indeed, looking at his mother and Hermione Granger sitting in a cafe having a pleasant, dare he say, friendly conversation. "I apologise, mother. I had no idea you would be here."

"Well, of course you didn't, darling," she said as if it was obvious. "Hermione only invited me this morning. She told me you wanted to know about Australia. I wasn't going to let her tell you alone, poor dear. Are you certain you want to tell him, though?" She looked back at Hermione, arching a perfect blonde brow.

Hermione's smile faltered for the first time that day as she took the witch's hand and eyed a nervous looking Draco before nodding. She took a deep breath and smiled as the waiter returned and placed their entrees in front of them. She took a bite of her potatoes au gratin and chewed thoughtfully before beginning her tale.

"I suppose it all began right after sixth year. As soon as I got home for the summer, I knew I'd have to make sure my parents were safe before Harry, Ron, and I went off. I researched several ways to do this, but in the end, I knew it would always come down to obliviation. I performed a modified memory charm to erase myself from their memories completely and set up new identities for them. I then sent them to Australia where they would hopefully be safe from any Death Eaters looking to hurt me through them."

She paused to take a couple more deep breaths while Narcissa rubbed her back and Draco eyed the contact curiously. If he hadn't taken a vow of secrecy, he would've wondered why she had confessed about the memory charm. Using one against a muggle was a serious infraction that would not look well for such a high-ranking Ministry employee. But he realised she was speaking again, and so returned his attention to her.

"-stayed with Harry and the Weasleys as long as I could, mourning for our lost loved ones and attending funerals. I was also heavily involved in the restructure of the Ministry, after I sat my NEWTS. In July, I took an international portkey straight to Australia to try to find my parents and give their memories back. Kingsley accompanied me, as he was the only one aware of the whereabouts of my parents. We found them rather quickly, surprisingly. I was able to fully reverse the memory charm, but they were understandably confused and upset. Kingsley graciously left us to have time together so I could try to explain myself and begin to repair our relationship. While on our way to meet him for dinner, we were attacked…"

She took a deep breath and looked to Narcissa for approval, who smiled sympathetically and squeezed the younger witch's hand. Draco made a mental note to ask about that later.

"…by Rabastan Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov." Draco's eyebrows shot up and he ground his teeth together to keep from interrupting. At the question in his eyes, Hermione nodded, continuing. "I did everything I could to protect my parents, even took down Lestrange for a bit before Dolohov cursed me. Kingsley showed up, concerned that we were late. He killed Dolohov in the duel, but Rabastan got away. I was treated at a wizarding hospital, though I was unconscious for the better part of a week. When I was healed, Kingsley told me my parents hadn't survived. We held their funeral and returned home, almost too late for the first scheduled war trial. Ronald was incensed when I was spotted with Kingsley. Accused me of running off to have an affair. I suppose you know the rest from the papers."

"What about the little g—" Draco was cut off by Narcissa, who snarled at her son. He blinked, completely taken aback by the uncharacteristic action. His mother had never acted that way toward him before. For that matter, she had never been affectionate toward anyone before, not even himself particularly, other than the hug on a special occasion. He realized that his mother felt protective of this witch and after hearing her story, he supposed he could see why. He held up his hands in surrender and his mother calmed considerably.

"I think that's been quite enough for today. Why don't we all go home?" Narcissa said, the insistent look in her eyes belying her sweet tone of voice. Hermione gratefully vacated her seat and hugged the witch before practically flying out the door, leaving a stack of muggle bills behind her on the table. Draco stood and took his mother's arm and counted out the rest of the cheque before escorting her out of the cafe toward the apparition point, his expression the very definition of determination.