Chapter Four: If Only

Hermione Granger was not one typically for melodramatics, but if ever a situation called for it, she thought now would be quite appropriate. The Slytherin who just turned her world upside down had left her holding a picture of herself in miniature as she was held lovingly between her mother and father. A hand flew to her mouth to stifle the gasp that would have certainly drawn unwanted attention within the quiet stacks. Quickly collecting her fallen books, Hermione rushed around the tables and Madame Pinch to head back to her dorm.

As she ascended the stairs, Hermione decided then to refuse to meet Malfoy at the Astronomy Tower. She was curious as all get out, but she refused to meet the spoilt Slytherin on his terms and demands. So for the rest of the weekend she stewed; she studied in her room, ate sandwiches Dobby kindly brought to her (on the promise that she not try to slip him a hat or sock in exchange) and stared at the magical photograph greedily as if it could answer all her questions.

She woke up at the start of a new week, excited for class, but thoroughly confused about life. It would have been so easy to put together a plan if it were for Ginny or Harry or Ron, but when it came to her own life, Hermione Granger simply did not know what to do. Questions and confessions were bubbling to the service and on the way to breakfast before the start of the day, she leaned against the wall about to suffer a full-blown panic attack.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" a kind voice asked.

Sinking under the weight of relief, guilt and anxiety, Hermione threw her arms around Neville as the boy approached and clung to him for dear life. "Oh Neville, thank God!"

"What's the matter?"

Hermione looked around before pulling the boy around the corner, past the students filing into the Great Hall. Once they were tucked into a small enclave between suits of armor, she took a deep breath and started from the beginning. She was rambling and probably didn't make much sense by time she reached recent events; she wrung trembling hands together to keep them from shaking. By time she finished, she had pulled the picture Malfoy gave her from her robe pocket and handed it to Neville.

"I'm almost certain it's true," she finished, dejected. "No matter how cruel-hearted Malfoy may be, I don't see what he gains from this if it is some horrid joke," Hermione voiced his fears to her friend.

Neville held the picture, his eyes going wide. "This is your bracelet!" he exclaimed. "Hermione, it's you!" as if just coming to the realization himself. "That's brilliant." He looked up to his friend with wonder in his eyes.

But Hermione did not feel the joy Neville displayed and slumped against the wall. "I don't see how, Neville. I had an inkling that this emblem belonged to House Shacklebolt. I would have put two and two together eventually, then I could have reached out when I was ready. But Malfoy's completely ruined everything. Now he knows, is hanging it over my head, and could tell the entire world."

Neville grasped Hermione's shoulder in support. "You won't let him, Hermione. I know you won't."

Hermione shook her head, hating to admit defeat. "I need to know what he wants. Malfoy couldn't possibly do this out of the good of his heart. I need to find out and I need to find out soon."

"And what about Harry and Ron? Are you going to tell them?" Neville inquired about their fellow Gryffindors.

Hermione bit her lip as she quickly skimmed through the pros and cons of telling her friends. They most likely would keep her secret, but the question was for how long? Shaking her head, Hermione thought it best to keep the circle of those who knew small, because the larger it grew the less control she had over those who did know. She told Neville so. "I promise I will tell them." She promptly added to his satisfaction, "But it just can't be at this moment. Malfoy certainly threw a wrench in things, but until I have whatever he is planning under control, then I will let the others know."

"And if the others find out that Malfoy knew before them?" He asked with a raised brow.

Hermione lifted her shoulder bag off the floor and sighed, stuck between a Merlin-awful rock and a hard place. "Then I'll explain if and when they do." The warning bell before first period sounded. "I'm sorry, I made us miss breakfast Neville."

"No worries. There's someone I kind of wanted to avoid at the moment."

Hermione gave him a knowing, kind smile as she linked arms and headed to their Transfiguration classroom. "You don't say?"

Father,

Remember what I wrote to you last week? Enclosed you'll find photographic proof that Granger is Shacklebolt's lost heir. Last year the Prophet ran an article from last year's Tri-Wizarding tournament. The charm bracelet with Shacklebolt's emblem is shown clearly as she goes to embrace Potter. I've compared it to other pictures I found in your study this past summer and now I am convinced. I certain we can use this to our advantage. By the way, Mother said you both are Granger's God-parents? Is that true?

Anyway, Professor Umbridge has given me and others power and access like never before. Granger's frightened as a first year that I know her secret; she'll do anything we ask. Should I wait for you to speak with Kingsley Shacklebolt? Please let me know.

Draco

Draco frowned as he re-read the letter to his father. Quickly, he crumbled the piece of parchment within his hand and vanished the remains. He would hold onto this secret for the meantime, choosing to reveal it when it was most advantageous. For now, his lips curled at how he could further tease the elusive witch in question.

The cowardly chit had steadfastly ignored him after outright standing him up a few weeks ago. Her attention seemed to be focused elsewhere as she and her friends were forever sneaking off to Merlin knows where. It made it hard to approach her about his little discovery.

At first, he had been put off that Granger stood him up, but now he sought to annoy her by teasing her and her friends mercilessly in class, often hinting that he had more to say. She would glare death at him and he would wink and continue to tease. It was glorious getting under the swotty know-it-all's skin; he counted it payback for every time she thought she knew the answer to everything. Well this one thing she wouldn't have figured out if it weren't for him. Poor thing would have still thought herself a Mudblood if it weren't for him. At least now he knew the reason for her prowess in magic. It made sense now.

"You and Granger have been exchanging notes, lately," Draco's roommate, Theo accused from seemingly nowhere. Glancing quickly about their dormitory, Draco noted that Blaise was reading a book on his bed, but was attuned to every word of the interesting conversation that was about to occur.

"Jealous?" Draco haughtily asked.

"Observant," Theo remarked with narrowed eyes.

Draco smirked. Of course he was. "Granger and her friends are up to something. I've been warning her that they won't get away with it for long. Not that it's any business of yours."

Theo raised a brow as he sat on his bed opposite of Draco's. "Granger, is it? What happened to Mudblood or 'vile filth'?"

Draco noticed that even Blaise had lowered his book in anticipation of his reply. Carefully considering his options, Draco knew that an admission here could go either way. But an omission could spread rumors that he was hiding, or protecting, Granger for some reason. A rumor he did not wish to see flourish beyond these walls.

He decided on deflection. "Trifle in the grand scheme of things. I've been corresponding with my Father, you know. He says that 'change' is coming to the Ministry and Hogwarts," he boasted conspiratorially. "And if you wish to be on the right side when change comes, Nott, I'd stop trying to malign my character," he narrowed his eyes at his roommate, once again trying to reclaim his dominance among the pit of snakes. It they wanted the inside information, then they would do best to shut up about this whole 'Granger' business.

Blaise carefully watched the two for signs that either would back down. There were a few tense seconds where Draco thought Theo would press him further, but the boy broke the stare to glance at the opposite wall.

"Whatever, Malfoy."

At that, Draco put on his robe and left the dorm and dungeon. Pansy found him in a surly mood as he brushed past her in the common room, his footsteps certain. He mentally berated the stubborn witch, his parents and their forgotten friendships, and his own curiosity for dragging him into all of this. If he had just dropped this 'bracelet' business, he wouldn't be in this position. But loyalty to his family, to his parents, made him seek out the lost Shacklebolt.

He found her where she always was: in the library. Her back was to him as she stretched on the tips of her Mary Janes for a book just out of reach. He took one moment to appreciate the smooth, lean lines of her legs not covered by her skirt and effortlessly grabbed the book she was reaching towards. His growing height gave him a advantage over hers.

"Excuse me, that was mine," Granger huffed before she had a chance to see who had grabbed her book.

"So is the picture I lent you, but you've yet to return it," Draco reminded her. "Those Muggles have taught you poor manners, Granger."

The curly-haired witch glanced over his shoulder and around hers before responding back, her voice low and full of contempt. "Don't you dare speak about my parents, Malfoy," she warned him again. He quickly remembered how she had assaulted him on the train at the end of last year.

"Which ones?" he smirked to her warning.

She clearly chose not to respond to his question and pulled out the picture in question. So she had it on her person? Draco knew the picture had gotten to her, then. The fact that she hadn't left it in her dorm or locked it away spoke volumes of how much it meant to her. "How do I know this isn't doctored?" she questioned instead, even though Draco knew she had to know the magical photograph wasn't altered.

"It's not. I found it in my father's personal study," Draco spoke the truth easily enough. Not that there was a reason for her to believe him. Their past was reason enough.

Granger paused, assessing him as he knew she would. "He knows, you told him," she accused. He didn't have to guess that she meant his father ….or possibly her father. Draco assumed the former.

"Wrong again, Granger, or whatever you are. My parents don't know … yet. But imagine how they would feel when I tell them their long-lost God-daughter has been found and that she's been attending school with their son this entire time."

The look that ran across Granger's eyes was comical. "What?! What. Did you say?"

Draco crossed his arms before the witch, the very picture of a distraught, little girl. "You heard me. Apparently my father and Kingsley Shacklebolt were close. Close enough to be attendants at each other's wedding, and close enough to name my parents God-parents to their first born," he stared at her pointedly.

"I hate you," Granger sneered as she turned away from him, very close to the point of tears.

Draco rounded on her, forcing her face him and the truth. He managed to keep his voice from rising in indignation. "You should be thanking me. I've informed you that despite your unfortunate upbringing, you are, in fact, a pureblood. A member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, in fact. Any other witch would be ecstatic."

Granger shook her head as tears pooled; a few droplets fell from her eyes. "You couldn't possibly understand. Why'd it have to be you?" she whispered to herself.

Strangely, Draco felt unease in his gut at the sight of her tears. It brought back the memory of when he had questioned his mother almost to the point of pain by discussing the past. He swallowed away the unpleasant feeling and continued, "Excuse me, I'll just take my learnings to the Prophet then ..."

Granger grabbed his sleeve as he attempted to leave. He sneered down at her, on instinct, before shrugging her hand off and settled for annoyance.

"It's not fair." Granger stopped her foot. "You can't just drop something like this," she waved her hands about trying to demonstrate the severity of her situation, "on me and then run off to press. Have you no decency?"

Draco smirked wickedly. "An anonymous source cannot write-in with a tip?" He waved off her silly notion. "Please, if I wanted to I could have told them in-person when I found that picture this summer. And it isn't the only one by the way," he motioned to the picture still in her hand, "so don't go thinking you can destroy the evidence."

Her eyes, now red, rolled skywards. "Is that what you want? Acclamation and notoriety?"

Draco stared at her and shrugged, indifferent. "Like any of more would make a difference. This will get out Granger, one way or another. And if it weren't for your affiliation with my family, I wouldn't have sought you out beforehand."

"As if I want anything to do with your family!" she protested. "I'd be better served never knowing about this … ugh affiliation, especially to learn of it from you!"

Draco looked down his nose at her ignorance. "One day, you'll want the connections and privilege that comes with being associated with the Malfoys, and the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You'll find that we're always one step ahead and while others deal with the fallout, we've already escaped and prepared for the next event."

"Does this conceited rant have a point, Malfoy? Or are you quite finished?" Granger scoffed.

"Your education is sorely lacking, Granger. And I don't mean in the educational sense." He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. "Meet me under the dilapidated drawbridge tomorrow night, if you desire more than what's in A Selection of Magical Families, Moste Important." Draco bade her good day, teasingly saluting her as Shacklebolt. He kept the book she was seeking to goad her further; the heat from her stare warmed his back all the way to the exit.

He made it to minute five before he turned around and headed back towards the castle. He would only stay so long hiding under the shadow of the old drawbridge before he decided Granger had stood him up again. But then the air shimmered a few feet away; voluminous curls danced in the night air followed by Granger's head - the first thing Draco saw. He swallowed his surprise as her body revealed itself part by part. She threw a well-worn cloak over her arm as she approached, now fully visible to him.

"An invisibility cloak?" he nodded to the garment on her arm.

She tucked the cloak under her arms, not meeting his eye. "I'm here, Malfoy. You can cut the niceties."

Draco tsked, "A proper witch is always polite, Shacklebolt." Granger hung her head, mumbling what he was sure was an expletive. "And a lady never curses in the presence of company."

Finally, her eyes snapped to his. "My name is Hermione Granger, if you'd please." She crossed her arms, a well-worn mask of impatience settling across her bones. "Well, go on. I'm here."

Draco smirked. "So, you are. Why did you come this time?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of him. "You didn't come at the beginning of term, so why now?"

Granger rolled her eyes towards to the twilit sky. "Merlin knows, I've asked myself several times over the past twenty-four hours." After a beat, she shrugged a shoulder as if she was reluctant to admit it aloud. "I want to know more."

Draco paused, assessing the uncomfortable witch. Softly, he replied, "September 20th."

Granger raised her eyes to his. "What?"

"Marie Delacour Shacklebolt's birthday is … was September 20th. A day after yours, am I correct?"

Hermione blinked comically. "You know when my birthday is?"

It was Draco's turn to shrug as he looked away from her. "Is that really the question you ought to be asking?"

He didn't have to see Granger to know she had narrowed her eyes, but her silence ceded the point to him. Fiddling with the runes on the invisibility cloak, she posed her next question, "Do you know what happened to her?"

Draco sat down on the steep hill, digging his feet into the slopped earth. "Mother says it was during the War. Shacklebolt was working with the DMLE at the time, his wife and daughter were assumed casualties."

Granger remained standing, a few feet away from him. He could see her mouth falling and closing as she tried to pose her next question. It was fascinating. Draco had never seen Hermione Granger nervous about anything. Yet here she was, out of her element of a classroom, no books before her, at an absolute loss of what to say or do. A corner of his mouth lifted at the sight.

"Your mother and father were close to them?" she finally asked.

Draco peered at her nervousness and a twinge of sympathy pinched his gut. Granger had only an enemy as her only source of information on her lost parents. He could only imagine what it took for her to come to him of all people, and suddenly, his plan to tease and ridicule her desperation vanished with the remaining sunlight. He took a deep breath and plunged forward.

"I only know what Mother shared with me this summer. She and Marie grew close after your parents' wedding. She confessed they had tried to conceive together as to have an established playmate for their heirs. Mother said Marie was beautiful, loved to garden, and spoke nearly eight languages. Whenever Shacklebolt would return from a mission abroad, he brought a souvenir home to her. By time, she fell pregnant with you, Mother said Shacklebolt stopped traveling. At Marie's request, of course." Draco smiled to himself. "Mother lit up like I've never seen her when she spoke of your mother. Yes, I gathered they must've been close, once."

Granger was studying the runes on the invisibility cloak intensely now. Even though she gave off an air of nonchalance, Draco could tell she hung riveted to his every word.

"And after Marie's death?" Granger made no mention of herself, the infant. "Did your parents remain close with Kingsley?"

Here, he shook his head. "Father will not talk about such matters, but that doesn't mean he didn't care." Draco felt the need to defend his father, though he knew little on the subject. "He is a difficult man to read."

Granger harrumphed in agreement.

"I know they played Quidditch together for Slytherin—"

Suddenly, Granger's sour chuckle distrubed the night air. "Of course. I should've known," she partly groaned to herself, her hands covered her face.

"I'm sorry?"

"The sorting hat," Granger clarified as she dropped her hands. "When we were first sorted, it asked me if I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and join his house. I was eleven, was just recently informed I was magical, and had no idea the hat was referring to my biological father." She shook her head, though Draco gathered it was not directed at him. "I could have figured this out then, if only I asked for more information."

"How were you to know? You were only eleven."

Granger stared at him strangely then, their gaze frozen on the other. Draco supposed so much could have changed between them if he had known at eleven that she was a Shacklebolt and Delacour. He surmised she was thinking the same.

"Not that it matters now." Granger shook her cloak off. "Well that's enough for tonight, I suppose." She threw the garment around her shoulders until she was just a floating head. "Thanks, Malfoy." Suddenly she vanished, but Draco felt he wasn't alone.

From where he sat, he asked boldly, "Same time, tomorrow night?" He waited a heartbeat, two, three, praying to Merlin he wasn't mental and talking to empty air.

But a few seconds later, her voice called back. "Have patrols. Is Tuesday, alright?"

The darkness hid Draco's smug smile.