Chapter Three: Emmeline (Part I)
24 March, 1995
My Dearest Son,
It is so good to hear from you. But I am surprised at your last correspondence. I cannot fathom why you would suddenly take an interest in the dealings of House Shacklebolt? Yes, it's true your father and Kingsley Shacklebolt were roommates in Slytherin. They were very close once, but time and events have placed a strain on their relationship.
In this case, the past is certainly best left in the past…
Draco Malfoy looked up from the last letter he had received from his mother. Since its arrival in March, he had read it over and over trying to decipher any hidden clues and meanings among the elegantly scripted words.
No matter, soon enough he would see his mother face-to-face and ask his questions in person. He folded the parchment and pocketed it in his inner jacket pocket as the Hogwarts Express lurched across a particularly rickety piece of track. He frowned; the entire train was covered with a sodding blanket as students grappled individually over the death of a Hogwarts student. Suddenly, the compartment felt too stuffy; he could hear a group of girls in the compartment beside him crying over the Diggory boy's death. He decided it was time for a walkabout.
Cedric Diggory went and got himself killed at the conclusion of the third and final task and now there whispers that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned from the shadows to do it. All courtesy of St. Potter, as if his word was absolute. As Draco walked amongst the train corridor, he could hear the simpering cries of Hufflepuffs and other students amongst the compartments. Even he knew that things would change after Potter returned bloodied, dead body in tow.
After Potter had returned with a deceased Diggory, things moved swiftly after that. There was a memorial service and the professors ushered students on the Hogwarts Express as soon as they could to clear the school.
Suddenly, Draco noticed Hermione Granger was walking toward him, her head down and solemn like the others. His mother's words weighed heavy in his breast pocket as she approached.
She sighed as she lifted her head, her eyes weary from second-hand grief. "Excuse me, Malfoy. The sooner you move, the sooner we can both be far from the other."
Draco took in her appearance. Ever since the Yule Ball, it was as if her curls never reverted back to the bushy-state he was accustomed to. They were elongated and floated down her back. It was a marked improvement, not that he would ever admit it to the swotty know-it-all. "Are you crying, Granger?" he sneered as her face came closer into view. Sure enough her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was splotchy with color.
She looked aghast at his question. "A student at our school was killed for no reason! Don't tell me even you aren't affected?!"
Of course he was, not that he would tell her. "I have plenty of other things to do with my time," Draco drawled hoping the act would be enough.
Granger shook her head sadly at him. "Of course you do. Move aside."
Draco blocked her attempt to side-step him. "Going to spend the holiday with your Muggle parents, then? Satisfy my curiosity, Granger, what do Muggles do for fun?" he said with a teasing smirk.
Granger rubbed the heel of her hand against her cheek, wiping away the last bit of tears. Her eyes were still red, but at least she wasn't sniveling anymore. "Why on earth should I tell you? If you're so interested, perhaps you should take Muggle Studies." Thinking that would satisfy his curiosity, she moved to step around him once more.
But Draco moved to block her second attempt to pass. "No need."
She gave up, exasperated, and crossed her arms. Perfect, he thought. He had her attention now.
"Oh, because you know them so well?" she replied with a raised brow.
He gave his most cavalier shrug. "I've had enough experience to last me a lifetime."
Granger shook her head at the pointless conversation, rolled her eyes, and made to push her way past him for a third time.
"Your parents, Granger," Draco looked down his nose at her. "Anyone with common sense could deduce they're not your biological parents."
She paused to give him an evil glare that would have made her friends back up in fear, but not him. "Your point being….?" She disturbingly mimicked their Potions professor's signature drawl.
He shrugged, nonchalant. "Just curious. They don't look like the sort able to afford that trinket on your wrist."
Draco noticed the slight tics that gave away her growing anger: her eyes narrowed to the point of slits, her hands balled into fists as they fell to her sides. Merlin, after four years was he starting to memorize Granger's physical responses to anger? He chuckled to himself at his ability to rile the Gryffindor's blood.
"I knew your ignorance had no bounds, Malfoy. But you've truly outdone yourself. Stand. Aside," she whispered pointed and dangerously.
He held an arm out on the side of the train, blocking her attempt to walk down the narrow hallway. "I don't think I'm finished."
"Oh yes, you are!" she huffed in mounting anger.
"What's the deal with that bracelet, Granger, hmm? Did you steal it? Mummy and Daddy barter their life earnings for a present for their darling adopted daughter?" he pushed and pushed, watching as her face contorted briefly into hurt and then rage, her eyes a light with a building fury.
He had a moment to watch tears pool in honey-colored eyes before a blur sliced across his vision.
"That is it!"
A millisecond later Draco felt the pain, sharp and pinching across his left cheekbone as his head was forcefully turned to the side. "How dare you?" she positively shrieked into his left ear. "You … you.. pompous, ignorant, spoilt little boy! How dare you insinuate that my parents couldn't afford the best for their daughter! And yes, they are my parents in every sense of the word. And I'll have you know this bracelet is much as mine as is that gaudy ring you wear on your left hand!"
He took one second to compose himself, looked around to see if anyone had witnessed that before he turned to match her glare. Both stared hard at the other; Draco longed to reach for his wand. Only the sound of their ragged breathing could be heard over the rickets of the train wheels below. Draco would have struck the Muggle-born back, but through gritted teeth replied instead, "Yes, but mine is a family heirloom, bestowed to me rightfully upon birth. Yours is a stolen memento that is beneath your station."
"Go to hell, Malfoy!" Granger forcefully pushed him, but not before he saw a few tears fall in earnest.
Malfoy watched her curls bounce every which way as she practically marched away from him, his cheek still smarting from her slap. She wouldn't possibly get that angry over something that wasn't meaningful and he had purposefully touched a nerve by mentioning her parents.
He swallowed the nausea that rose in his throat as a sinking suspicion filled his gut. Was Granger related to House Shacklebolt? It was time to push his mother on these mysterious past events involving his father and House Shacklebolt. Something wasn't quite adding up because how in the world had Granger come into ownership of a charm boasting the House's emblem?
He pushed that nagging feeling away and repeated his earlier notion: none of this made sense.
He repeated the notion until he had de-boarded the Express and side-alonged back to the Manor with his mother in tow. His mother informed that his father was away 'on business' and would be returning soon.
Later they sat down to dinner, the two of them alone at a table meant for twenty. Waiting until his mother had asked all the usual end-of-school year questions, he started with a question of his own. "Mother, what can you tell me about Father's relationship with House Shacklebolt?"
Narcissa's spoon wavered in the air, but she took her bite and swallowed before responding. "Your father tries his best to maintain relationships with most of the influential families. House Shacklebolt is one of them."
He took a bite from his plate, pretending to sound indifferent. "You wrote that Kingsley Shacklebolt and Father were close?"
"They were."
"But they are no longer?" he pressed.
"I'm not privy to the status of every one of your father's relationships, Draco," Narcissa answered with a twinge of annoyance at her son's persistence.
He swallowed, before he continued, "Was it the war?"
Narcissa looked at him for one long moment before she lowered her eyes. "Why are you asking this?"
"I'm just curious as to why Kingsley Shacklebolt has never been to the Manor. I can't recall a time when he's ever visited, during the holidays or otherwise. And just about all of father's friends, especially members of the older families, have stopped by at one time or another."
"I imagine Kingsley would not wish to visit the Manor, Draco. There was much ado after the first wizarding war and Kingsley worked for the DMLE."
"Father always told me we had friends at the Ministry. Was he one of them?" Draco pried.
"Draco, I do insist you wait for your father to return to continue this inquiry," she drove home her point.
But Draco was curious and found his mother could very rarely refuse him, so he pressed on past her warning, "One last question. Does Kingsley have any heirs? I mean my primary tutelage never mentioned an heir when we studied the old families."
Narcissa didn't immediately respond, but her face was telling enough. His mother was cunning and she could hide her emotions with the best of them, but she had a tell. She was surprised, and a touch of sadness graced her features as she thought through a response.
Seeking not to further hurt his mother, Draco quickly ended his line of questioning. "Never mind. I'll save the remaining inquiry for Father when he returns. I apologize for bringing up the past."
Narcissa sighed, replacing her utensil for a goblet of elf-made wine instead. "No, no. You cannot help your curiosity. To answer your question, yes, Kingsley was married. To Marie Delacour. Your father was an attendant in the wedding party," a small smile graced her features as she looked away at some spot on the table, lost in memory.
Draco smirked at the thought of his father standing beside a friend at a wedding. It made him seem human, more so than the imposing figure Draco had grown to admire. "He never told me that."
"Your father keeps many things close to the vest." Narcissa took a sip of wine and sighed as her tale continued, "Kingsley and Marie were married shortly before your Father and I. And following suit, they had a daughter a few months before we had you. She was a beautiful baby."
Draco held his breath; his heart skipping a beat. This was it. "Was?"
Narcissa nodded as she stared into her goblet. "Yes, unfortunately Marie and their daughter were lost during the first great war. Kingsley admitted to Lucius afterward everything happened, that he and his wife had been arguing. Marie wanted to take their daughter to her family estate in France; it was dangerous for those on the wrong side of the war at the time. I guess Marie was concerned that their family could become a target. Shortly after that, the papers reported her and the babe missing. Kingsley was … troubled at the double loss. I don't think he's ever quite recovered." She took a generous sip of wine.
Draco was pensive as he reflected on what his mother had shared. He very much tried to picture his father and Kinglsey Shacklebolt standing side by side at a wedding. Both families would have shared in their joy at the birth of their first-born. "I see. And the girl, what was her name?"
Narcissa gave a sweet, yet sad smile to Draco. What she said next caused him to improperly drop his dinner fork.
"A beautiful name to match our beautiful, new god-daughter. Emmeline. Emmeline Joie Shacklebolt."
"Sirius, I was wondering. Could I ask you a question?" Hermione had just arrived to number 12 Grimmauld Place with Ron. It was the absolute thick of summer and she knew she should get upstairs and apologize to Harry for not writing all summer, per Dumbledore's orders. But she couldn't help but stop in front of the door when she saw Sirius inside reading a book.
His smile was inviting and sincere. "Sure, love. What's on your mind?"
She entered the room, and with a quick look over her shoulder, set a muffling charm about the small room. "I've been doing some reading lately… on the Sacred Twenty Eight." Hermione watched as slow recognition morphed into disgust. She wondered what memory had brought such an emotion forward.
"Why on earth would you want to bore yourself with that drivel?" he voiced instead.
She took a fortifying breath before carefully speaking the words, " 'With all my might'."
Sirius's face scrunched in confusion before the daily drills he received as a child came back to him. He recognized those House words. They belonged to, "House Shacklebolt," he said aloud. "… But I don't understand?"
"I-I figured it had to mean something," Hermione stammered, fearful that if she didn't rush forward with it now, she'd never have the courage to again. She consciously twisted her bracelet about her arm, her eyes lowered in insecurity. "I discovered last year it must've been magically charmed to grow as I did. The detection spell I uncovered confirmed my suspicions. You see, I've had it since before I can remember, my parents seem to think someone close to me, my biological parents possibly, gave it to me before I was adopted."
Sirius gave her a gentle smile as he interrupted her nervous speech. "Hermione, love, I'm not sure I quite follow you."
Hermione thrust her wrist towards him, her palm turned up. "Why would Malfoy recognize its significance before I did? When I read about the family this insignia belonged to, I thought it was either a cruel joke or a miracle of some sort! I even wrote a letter to Neville this summer asking him what was House Shacklebolt's insignia? Do you know what he wrote back?" she approached Sirius as he took in the small charm affixed to her bracelet. Nervousness radiated from her sun-kissed skin as he recognized the small symbol.
"…A lightning bolt," Sirius breathed as he fingered the small charm fastened with a diamond. "Where did you get this?" he wondered aloud.
"Why does everyone ask me that? I don't know. My parents don't know. I don't know," she repeated lamely. Suddenly her Gryffindor courage came roaring back. "Sirius … I need you to use Legilimens on me," she ordered.
"What?!" He stood from the couch in shock. The book he had been reading fell from his lap to floor, forgotten.
"Please! I don't trust anyone else who could possibly do the spell. Perhaps if you could search my memories from when I was a child…" she implored as she took his place on the couch.
Sirius shook his head as he stared at the resolute witch before him. "Hermione, I would never. The effects of such a spell … of trying to pull memories from your unconscious, who knows what irreversible damage it could cause."
"I need to know, Sirius." She held up her wrist. "This means something! I know it does."
"Okay, okay, love," Sirius soothed as he once again sat on the tattered couch next to her."How about we speak to Kingsley? He's a wonderful bloke, bit of Ministry stiff, but..."
Hermione's eyes widened with apprehension. "No! I couldn't possibly - It's too soon!"
"Hermione, it makes sense," Sirius implored the teenaged witch to see reason. "Aren't you supposed to be logical one? Kingsley is the last heir to House Shacklebolt. Perhaps, he can gleam any significance from this, if it means anything at all," he appealed to her reasonable side.
She pondered the idea as she worried her bottom lip. "What's he like? He's a part of the Order of the Phoenix as well?"
Sirius nodded in the affirmative. "He was a few years ahead of James, Remus and I at school. Our paths didn't cross much because he was in Slytherin. But he was a damn good beater for the snakes, if I recall correctly. He'd joined the DMLE by time Harry had been born and other than official Order business we rarely spoke. He's really a stand-up bloke. Dumbledore's benefited by having him as an ally at the Ministry."
"And…and did he have a family?" she tentatively asked. "The book I've been reading only listed him as the heir to his House."
Sirius gave a soft smile, a rare touch of sympathy in his eyes as he understood her nervousness. She was adopted, and had possibly found a clue to her origins after such a long time. Gently, he answered her question, "I heard he'd married and … yes. They had a daughter."
"Stop," Hermione ceased the man from continuing, rising from the couch. She was filled with both anticipation and a dread so deep at his next words, she thought she might be sick. "Stop. I don't want to know."
"Hermione," Sirius pleaded again. "Let's talk to Kingsley …." If Hermione was indeed a long, lost Shacklebolt, the man would be best person to determine it.
But the witch would hear none of it. "No! I… I will talk to him when I have more substantive proof. Besides the Order is terribly busy with Voldemort's return. Harry's mad at me for not writing all summer. We have much too much to worry about now."
Sirius pierced her with a keen look. "Hermione, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were scared. Where's the girl who faced a hundred Dementors, a werewolf and escaped convict in her third year?"
Hermione looked away, ashamed, because Sirius was absolutely right. She was scared. Scared to know the truth now that it was closer than ever. All she had to do was reach out and grasp it. But fear, fear of rejection, the chance that she might be wrong; all of it made shake her head once more with finality. "Not now, please Sirius. I … I need to be the one to talk to him. But only when I'm absolutely sure."
Sirius sat back in his seat, never one to disagree with a lady, but clearly disappointed with her decision. He tapped his fingers along the couch's arm, thinking for a moment. "Well, if you insist. I swear not to tell him."
"You promise?"
Sirius raised his right hand and gave her a brilliant smile. "Marauder's oath, love. Besides, he not here at the moment. He was supposed to escort Harry with Remus, Tonks, and Emmeline Vance last night, but last minute work for the Minister came up."
Hermione nodded her head, realizing a weight that hadn't even been there had been lifted. "Thank you," she breathed as she wiped nervous hands across her jean pockets.
Sirius threw his head over his shoulder. "Now go upstairs and see my godson. He's right pissed at both you and Ron."
On 1st September, 1995 Emmeline Vance, Tonks, Remus and Moody (and Sirius disguised as Padfoot) escorted the Weasley children, Hermione, and Harry to the platform on 9 and ¾. Harry had been cleared of all charges and allowed to come back to Hogwarts. By time it came for the three to be escorted to King's Cross, Hermione was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Kingsley Shacklebolt would not join the detail, as again he had been pulled away with Ministry business.
After goodbyes were said, Hermione and Ginny were the last of their group to board the train.
"Don't look, but I think you've got a secret admirer," Ginny teased in a sing-song voice.
Hermione pulled her trunk up onto the train. "What are you talking about?"
"There," she threw her chin over Hermione's shoulder. "I can't believe it. Malfoy is wearing a hole into your head." Ginny grasped Hermione's shoulder in effort to keep her from turning around. "No! No, don't look!" After boarding, the two girls made their way down the corridor. The boys had taken one compartment and Ginny led Hermione to the next available one.
Hermione kept her head straight, though she desperately wanted to turn around to confirm Ginny's assertions. "Is he still staring?" Hermione whispered.
Ginny opened the compartment door, pretending to look beyond Hermione. "He's gone toward the Slytherin side of the train now." Hermione looked over her shoulder, but Malfoy had just slipped beyond the door to the next car. "Oh my Merlin, but he was ever staring at you! Must be the new hair, 'Mione."
Hermione rolled her eyes and joined Ginny in the compartment where a blonde, girl with radish earrings was already sitting and reading an upside-down magazine.
"I like your new hair do, Hermione. It looks positively charming," the girl spoke up as she lowered her magazine.
"Oh, uh... thanks," Hermione gave a half-smile. "Though I haven't done anything different to it." She cut accusing eyes at Ginny. "That salon you sent me to for last year's Ball must've used a strong potion. It's altered my hair," she accused.
Ginny beamed as she ran a hand through Hermione's defined, more manageable curls. "For the better!"
Hermione shook her head as she turned to the newcomer. "I don't think we've met. I'm Hermione Granger."
The witch, a Ravenclaw by the colors of her scarf, grasped Hermione's offered hand. "Luna Lovegood. A pleasure."
Ginny and Luna needed no introduction seeing as the two held several classes together. "Soo, are we going to talk about how our bookworm here has captured Draco Malfoy's heart?"
Hermione threw her head back and groaned as the train moved forward.
Unfortunately, Malfoy didn't ease Ginny's teasing by continuing to shoot pointed stares at her during the opening feast. It tempered when Dolores Umbridge took to the podium and whispers of Ministry interference at Hogwarts floated about, but ever since then, Hermione would catch the blond's eyes during classes and meal times that first week. It was starting to become annoying.
She passed through the library stacks the first weekend after classes started, seeking more books on defensive spells since their current defense professor saw no use for such a skill, when she caught the grey-silver eyes of Malfoy peering back at her.
Hastily, she placed the book back on the shelf. It wouldn't be the first time she had spotted him here, so there shouldn't be a reason to freak out completely. Slowly, she pulled the book back off the shelf and hesitantly looked through the vacuum it had created. Cinnamon and silver eyes widened at first contact.
Hermione whipped back and mind made up, quickly walked around the stack and feverishly whispered to Slytherin, "What on earth is wrong with you?! Have you lost the plot, you've been staring at me all week!"
Draco fixed her with a pointed glare. "We need to talk."
Hermione quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching this conversation unfold. Of course, that didn't mean they weren't any gossipers lurking about, eager to spread the next big rumor. "We absolutely do not," Hermione lowered her voice, but found it hard to keep the shrill level to a minimum. The two of them needing to speak to one another was as preposterous as Professor Snape and Harry sitting down to tea. "I have nothing on earth to say to you!"
Draco looked around before causally pulling something out of his robe pocket. "Hear me out. It may be worth your while, Granger." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Or should I say Shacklebolt?"
Hermione dropped the books she had been collecting. Her mouth fell open, and words left her. But Malfoy picked up the two tomes and handed them back to her. "Meet me in the Astronomy Tower. Sunday night, 10pm. Do not be late." He emphasized as he brushed passed her. "And I'll want my picture back."
But Hermione was too focused on the books Malfoy had placed in her hand. Sitting on top of Dark Arts and You, A Guide to Safety was a tattered, black and white moving photograph. One man she easily identified as Lucius Malfoy. He looked younger and more handsome with his hair tied behind his head. Standing regally beside him, was a very pregnant woman who caressed her swollen middle: Narcissa Malfoy. But standing right next to the pair was a stately looking man and a demure, long-haired blonde woman. The woman held in between the two couples a smiling baby girl with a tuff of brown curls. The baby grabbed onto the stately man's shirtfront and for all the world to see, was a shiny bracelet Hermione would recognize anywhere.
Her books fell from her arms for a second time.