AN: "Emme" pronounced EM-me.

Chapter Six: Predictable Surprises

Granger's moods and mannerisms were starting to become predictable. Draco didn't have to be Longbottom or St. Potter to know she wanted nothing to do with him following the incident. It was almost comical how she refused to meet his gaze across the Great Hall at meal times, or lifted her nose even higher when they crossed paths in the hallways. The chit was trying to prove a point, but if she thought he would apologize, she was in for a rather rude awakening.

By time they entered December, her anger morphed into something else entirely. Draco caught her more than once fiddling with her bracelet during Potions, like a nervous tic, and he knew then the memory must have gotten to her.

It had gotten to him as well, if he were honest with himself. It was unnerving to watch one's parents fight over the safety of their child. He had spied on similar conversations between his mother and father after the return of the Dark Lord. Narcissa mirrored Marie's concerns almost to a tee. It was eerie to watch a similar fight play out in the witch's subconscious. Draco shifted in his seat, as he again observed Granger turn the bracelet over on her wrist.

It was then he decided to extend his version of an olive branch. After some successful persuading, he arranged it so that he and Granger had prefect patrols together a few days later. She would scowl the moment she saw him, but rather than pitch a fit as she was prone to do, she would begrudgingly keep her rounds with him.

Like he said, predictable.

So, a few days later found the unlikely duo sweeping the first floor of their assigned patrol route. Draco was content to work in silence, but he knew Granger could only take so much of her internal chatter before it spilled outward. They completed the length of one floor before she predictably broke the silence, "I'm thinking of writing a letter to Kingsley."

"To ask about the weather?" He checked behind one tapestry and could feel the heat of her glare across his shoulder blades.

"Nooo," she elongated the response. "I'm think I'm ready to meet him… during the Holiday break."

Draco joined her after his inspection and they continued down the hallway. "That's in a week."

She pushed a curl behind her ear and took a deep breath as if steadying herself against something unseen. "I know."

Gryffindors and their courage. Draco smirked to himself and prodded her weak plan for holes. "Do you even know if he'll be available?" he asked as she took the next closet. She opened the door and finding no one inside, quickly shut it.

"Well, no. But I'll tell him it's important." She bit her bottom lip, suddenly unsure. Another un-Granger like quality he had begun to notice of late. "I don't know." The witch was uncharacteristically deflated as she resumed her walk beside him.

Annoyed with the flash of pity that flared in his gut, Draco begrudgingly suggested, "Tell him you have information on Marie."

Her mouth fell opened in shock as she magically moved a suit of armor to the side and back. "What? No, that's cruel … I couldn't possibly do that." They turned and he hopped on a staircase to ascend to the next level.

As soon as she joined him, the stairway lurched with a jolt and swung in a different direction. While they waited, he postured against the rails, "Well, don't you?"

"Not that I know of."

Draco rolled his eyes. For being a brilliant witch, she could be obtuse at times. "You happen to be her daughter. That in itself is something. Merlin, do I have to think of everything? Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

She sighed to herself and rolled her wand in between her fingers, "The lid is about to fall off..."

Now Granger was talking about lids? He was beyond confused now. "What? What are on about?"

She answered with a question of her own, carefully observing his response. "Why are you in such a mood?"

He quickly schooled his face, hoping he wasn't giving away the plot like Granger and her blatant worry. "I don't care, nor have time for your melodramatics."

"Melodrama and Malfoy obviously go together, didn't you know?" She crossed her arms as they reached their landing and walked to the next floor to begin their sweep again. "If you really didn't care, you wouldn't have switched the patrol roster," she accused with a sharp brow.

Silence, then, "That is beside the point."

"Is it?" she smirked, smug with her find.

"Like you'd care. It was you who were avoiding me, remember?"

Her lips pressed together in a tight line with what he had come to know as aggravation. "With good reason," she lowered her voice, but not the shrill. "You breached my privacy, forced me to endure a painful memory that could have left me catatonic." Granger huffed and shook her head in frustration, "You are the most frustrating boy I've ever had the misfortune to meet. If it were Harry or Neville, they would have apologized by now," she finished, with a misplaced hope that he would get the message.

But he shrugged in reply, which further served to aggravate her. "If you're looking for an apology and a hug, Granger, I have news for you."

Her hands, which had found their way to her hips, flew upwards. "Ugh! I'm done here, you can finish patrols by yourself." She turned to leave and made it five steps before predictably, he asked the question to her back. He felt the two of them were becoming sadly predictable as of late.

"Where are you going?"

"I've a letter to write!" she gave back.

This would not do. He cursed as the opportunity to extend his olive branch was passing. In a split second, he made the decision before he quickly caught up with her. "Granger!" He grabbed her elbow to stop her, from which she quickly pulled back.

"Let me go, Malfoy."

He released her and ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Forget the bloody letter."

Brown eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Forget. The letter," he repeated slowly. He quickly glanced up and down the hallway to make sure they were alone and no one could hear what he was about to say next.

"Why on earth would I do that?"

He moved closer to her and lowered his voice. "Because some things are better said in person." Bloody hell, he was really going to do this. Before he could stop himself, he plunged onward, "Come to the Manor, Granger." After she still didn't get it, he spoke even slower, "My mother's invited Kingsley over to the Manor for the holidays. Come and meet your father then."

The winter term came to an end and as Malfoy had alluded, Hermione found herself back at home with her parents. Primly folding her letters from Neville, Ron, and Harry, she lamented that she hadn't been there to celebrate the Christmas holiday with them. As she unwrapped presents on Christmas morning with her parents, she wondered how Marie and Kingsley celebrated their one and only Christmas as parents with a three-month old. She wondered if there was a grand celebration then.

She did not write her previously planned letter to Kingsley and felt the weight of her secret press even heavier as the days moved closer to the New Year. What was once her second favorite time of year (outside of September 1st), was now filled with anxiety. Her parents picked up on their daughter's mood and when they questioned her about it, she answered that she missed school.

Malfoy had been right.

She did pine to be back at Hogwarts, to be a part of a world she was rapidly beginning to think of as home, more than the four walls of her parent's two-story colonial ever could be. In fact, the wizarding world had been the home of her birth. It was becoming increasingly clearer that Hermione would soon need to choose between this world, the world of her parents, the world she used to know, and the place where she felt at home, the wizarding world.

Sighing again Hermione stared out her bedroom picture window, thinking about what her friends were doing this instant. She could only imagine the shenanigans going on at Grimmauld Place with the Weasley clan all under roof.

Opening the letter that had arrived the day after Christmas, Hermione re-read the neat cursive script; the font was small and slanted slightly to the left. Malfoy had sent her a short missive with a wrapped portkey and the instructions "Three days – 6pm".

This was it.

On December 30th, she had informed her parents that she was going to visit Harry for New Year's and with a small bag packed, she was now anxiously awaiting the time she was due to travel to Malfoy Manor. After saying goodbye to her parents, she changed in her dressing room into a long-sleeved powder blue party dress. She couldn't imagine the dress code for such an occasion, but thought of what would Malfoy wear and went with her best dress robes.

It was only a few moments to six and the portkey would activate. Why was she so nervous? She'd never been this nervous before. Fiddling with her wand to in effort to pass the minutes, she ran over a list of things she could possibly say when the moment came. As the minute hand hit the top of the hour, she unfurled the portkey and the magic whisk her to her past and future.

Elsewhere, the Lord and Lady of Malfoy Manor moved about their antechamber readying for dinner as they routinely did. Christmas brunch had been a grand affair with many visitors and well-wishers. Draco had led a party of his friends and school mates to his wing for gift exchanges, while Narcissa and Lucius entertained the adults downstairs with drinks and gifts of another kind. A few days later found the Manor was quiet and being prepped for company once again.

Lucius selected a dinner jacket for the evening and a smoking jacket that Mipsy would take to the library for after-dinner drinks. Narcissa sat at her personal vanity, dressed in elegant green satin. She held a hand-held mirror, set in priceless silver, but it slipped from trembling hands and cracked on the dresser.

"Darling, are you alright?" Lucius turned to his wife at the sharp sound.

She met his eyes in mirror and gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes. Why, yes Lucius. Of, course. My mind must've slipped."

"Anything to do with our dinner guest this evening?" he ventured as he donned his jacket.

Narcissa attempted a genuine smile this time. "It's been so long since Kingsley's been to the Manor. I must've checked with Mispy at least four times since lunch," she chuckled at her nervousness as she fastened one pearl drop earring to one ear and then the next. Her husband suddenly appeared over her shoulder behind her.

"I'm sure tonight will be splendid," he sought to soothe her worries, as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I didn't want him to be alone during the holidays. We should have reached out sooner," she reprimanded herself.

Reaching behind, she handed Lucius a pearl necklace, who replied carefully, "We did. It was he who steadfastly declined, remember?"

Narcissa swept her hair to one shoulder so Lucius could fasten the necklace. "Yes, and we know the reason why." She stared into her husband's eyes meaningfully.

Before she could open her mouth, Lucius admonished her quietly, "Do not think on it, Narcissa."

She let her hair fall back in place as he clasped the latch. "How can I not?"

"If this is some macabre way to punish yourself, stop. The past is passed."

"The Dark Lord has returned, and this chasm between was once a great friendship grows even wider, despite my efforts to keep it together. Every year that goes by, the more wretched I feel. Do you not feel the same?" Soft blue eyes pleaded with his silver-grey ones in the mirror.

He was quiet as he turned to tuck gloves into his jacket pocket. "I feel a great many deal of things, darling. But none of that is your concern." He walked to their chamber door and held it open for her. "Shall we?"

As she passed through the doorway, she stopped to lay a comforting hand on his cheek. "What concerns you, Lucius, concerns me as well. Do not forget that." She wished she could smooth the lines of weariness she found there. The years had made them more pronounced. Instead she gave a comforting smile, dropped her hand, and exited intent on playing an excellent host to their most esteemed guest.

Dinner went remarkably well and after initial introductions, the trio of Malfoys and Kingsley found themselves in the midst of an easy conversation over salad and fish.

"So, Mr. Shacklebolt, Mother tells me you and Father played for Slytherin during your time at Hogwarts?" Draco continued the conversation while the elves cleared their first course.

Kingsley laughed as he nodded, but directed his answer to Narcissa. "What have you told your son, Narcissa?" he asked conspiratorially.

Draco glanced to his left and gauged his Father's reaction. "Not much," Draco replied cautiously.

Lucius dapped his mouth with a napkin. "Yes, Narcissa, just what have you been telling our son?" He smirked to his wife. Husband and wife shared a silent look before she demurred perfectly.

"Oh, only everything." The table politely chuckled at her charm. "Just that you two very involved in planning and executing plays for Slytherin." She turned to Draco. "I would go days without seeing hide nor hair of your father during Quidditch season."

"No need to exaggerate, darling," Lucius chided after a sip of wine.

"How are things at Hogwarts, Draco?" Kingsley asked.

Draco leaned back in his chair, in a posture that unconsciously mirrored Lucius. "Things have certainly changed since Umbridge's installation, sure. But I feel as though the school is back on a proper track."

"You mean, since she gives frequent detentions to Mr. Potter?"

Draco visibly flushed as he stared accusingly at his mother. Did she tell Kingsley about his rivalry with Harry Potter?

Kingsley laughed at the youth's reaction. He easily replied, "No need to blame your mother. The Ministry is just like Hogwarts in some regards – rumors fly faster than interdepartmental memos. And many at the Ministry have children who attend Hogwarts…" The smile from Kingsley's face fell momentarily. "I … uh… that is, you often find parents gossiping over their child's latest actions at the school," he finished quickly.

Sensing the discomfort growing around the table, Lucius easily stepped in. "Let me guess. Has Arthur Weasley been gossiping about his brood of a dozen-"

"Lucius!" Narcissa admonished.

Kingsley nodded, grateful for the distraction to move on from discussing children who were at Hogwarts, or not. "Arthur is a fine fellow. And yes, he does keep me well-informed about his sons' and daughter's lives at Hogwarts."

"How ever do you make it through?" Lucius said with a frown, though his eyes held a hint of mirth Draco rarely saw from his father.

Draco smiled politely, as his parents began to chat about other Ministry stiffs Draco hardly knew or cared about. He tried to keep track of names and events for future references, but he couldn't help but watch as his parents de-aged right before his eyes. They had never laughed like that when it was just the three of them. He liked this version of his parents better.

But beneath the laughter was a hint of sadness, a grave sense that someone, or someones were missing. Even Draco was aware of it. And he had an inkling of what it was.

The salad in his stomach started to turn as he observed Kingsley Shacklebolt. The wizard had been arranged to be married to Marie Delacour well before he had been born and yet, he still wore his wedding ring on his left hand.

He wore a gold chain beneath his expensive robes, and if Draco had to guess, it contained the same emblem that was on Granger's bracelet. Unbeknownst to the Auror, he had a daughter who was still alive, Draco's parents had a god-daughter, and all knew nothing about it.

"Excuse me," Draco stood up from the table suddenly, drawing the attention of the adults. "I apologize, I'm not feeling well. I think I'll retire to my room now."

His mother gave him a concerning once-over. "Draco, is everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Mother," he assured her.

Lucius peered at his son, but said nothing. He nodded and granted him permission to leave.

Draco inclined his head towards their guest. "It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Shacklebolt. I apologize for retiring so soon, but I hope it won't be the last time we meet."

"Of course, it won't," Kingsley supplied, with an easy grin. "It was nice to meet you as well, Draco."

"Do you want me to have Mispy send your dessert to your room?" Narcissa asked, as Draco pushed in his chair.

Draco shook his head, as he placed his dinner napkin on his plate. "I'll be fine. Goodnight, Mother. Father. Mr. Shacklebolt."

Except he wasn't going straight to his room. After he left the adults to start on their next course, he hooked a left and started a path towards the front door and the Manor gates beyond.

On the outside, Hermione was cold from winter's frost. Her travelling cloak was sturdy, but exposed to the elements she started to shiver and grew frustrated she couldn't perform magic outside of Hogwarts. However on the inside, she was warm from a combination of adrenaline and nerves. It made for an upset stomach and trembling limbs. Mixed with the madness of travelling by port-key, Hermione honestly thought she might vomit as soon as she landed before the Manor gates.

And heavens, what a gate it was. The wrought iron were at least four meters high, but they were in the poorest condition. They appeared rusted through and broken, and when she reached a hand out to touch the meatl, she pulled back from the heat of the protective ward that surrounded it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a familiar smug voice warned. Suddenly the rusted gate opened to reveal Malfoy. "Father would know you're here and then you would ruin the surprise."

Hermione stepped through the gate and the perimeter ward, feeling strong magic wash over her. It caressed her center, as if taking the temperature of her magical core before it left. "What was that?"

With a wave of his wand, Malfoy closed the gate behind her. "An old family ward set by my grandfather. Let's just say, be glad you aren't a Muggle or Muggle-born."

Hermione could only imagine what pox she currently would be sporting if had she been someone else. "How cruel." She turned to view the gate she had just walked through and was surprised to learn it was actually a pristine, functioning gate. "It's charmed to look decrepit," she observed. "Let me guess, to ward away Muggles."

Malfoy tapped his temple, indicating she was correct. As the two walked up the path, she took in Malfoy's evening wear. He was impeccably dressed in an expensive navy button up, black trousers and smart dinner shoes. Begrudgingly, she internally admitted he made everything look effortless. "Am I interrupting something? I don't want to appear rude."

"Father and Kingsley should be settling down to cigars and brandy in the study. I'd say you're right on time."

Hermione breathed out a puff of cold breath of air as she took in the grandeur of the Manor before her. Surrounded by immaculate grounds and lush landscaping, was a miniature castle from her picture books of old, full of turrets and floor to ceiling windows. As Malfoy led them across the large entryway still outfitted with Christmas decorations, her heart began to race. She walked across marble floors, after she gave her cloak to an elf, and made her way in when gooseflesh suddenly rose on her neck.

Laughter, booming laughter and a hurried reply had she and Malfoy turning to their right. Her breath quickened as a tall man in a deep blue jacket and vest combination appeared next to Lucius Malfoy. Her heart raced and she had a small moment to think Lucius might hex her on the spot. It made her palm her wand in her pocket just in case.

Sensing her apprehension, Malfoy stepped in front of her and cleared his throat. It was good that he did because hers suddenly went dry.

Lucius spotted his son and his guest first. "Draco, you didn't tell me we were expecting more company this evening?"

But Hermione found her courage and stepped forward to stand next to Malfoy, "Kingsley Shacklebolt?" Her voice wavered only slightly. Bully for her.

The wizard peered at her, his brows drawing together as he took a hesitant step towards her. "Yes. Who are you?" he asked. His voice was just as powerful and soothing as it was in the memory Malfoy had pulled from her subconscious. Air cruelly left her lungs and all courage fled. The young man in her memory, the same who had pleaded with his wife to stay, had aged some but his facial features remained the same. Distantly, she wondered if she had changed too much since he last saw her?

She swallowed, unable to get to the words out. She lifted her charm bracelet dumbly within the candle lit foyer. "My name is…"

"…Emme?" Kingsley whispered reverently, as she equally replied, "Hermione."

The pair stared at each other for the space of two heartbeats. She didn't know how this moment was supposed to go, but quicker than she imagined, she found herself swept into an imaginably tight hug. It was constricting and all-encompassing. She kept her arms down by her sides, unsure where to place them as the man, who smelt of cocoa and fresh pine, released her and moved closer to study her face.

He pushed the curls from forehead as he examined her. "Is this a trick?" he whispered.

Hermione held up her charm bracelet, "I figured this had to possess magical properties, since it grew as I did, never once becoming tight. My parents told me I've had it since I was adopted -"

"Fifteen years ago?" he guessed.

She nodded silently, emotion keeping words from her. So much for her rehearsed speech.

Slowly the Auror pulled back, though one hand remained on her shoulder as if to ground him, as the other lifted a chain hidden from view from his interior shirt. "I had a matching charm bracelet made for my daughter when she was born. It was to match the one my father gave to me." At the bottom of the now exposed chain, was the same emblem, a golden lightning bolt fashioned with the same stone as hers.

So very overcome, she brought two hands to her mouth in shock.

"Draco?" a soft voice asked beyond the reunion. With hurried clicks of her heels, Narcissa Malfoy bounded down the stairs towards the commotion occurring within the foyer. "Draco, who is this?"

Lucius took an unsure step back from the scene as he eyed his son, then his wife, as she finally approached.

Draco turned from the pair of Shacklebolts to his father and mother to explain. "You remember Hermione Granger? Except, she isn't exactly a..." he seemed unsure how to continue in the midst of the moment, "a Granger, it seems," he finished.

Narcissa looked between their old friend, who had changed from withdrawn and sullen wizard to a man now full of wonder and delight. He and the girl were currently embraced. "Surely, you do not mean...?" Narcissa gasped and placed a hand over her mouth.

"She can't be," Lucius affirmed, though he was not entirely convinced himself.

"She is," Kingsley stated confidently from his place beside Hermione. He removed his wand from his sheathe and waved it over her head and then his. "Sanguis Revelare."

A shimmer of white light swirled around Hermione and Kingsley and until the pair of white lights, shimmered and turned a matching shade of gold. "A positive match," he spoke loud enough for the room to hear. "My daughter, she is alive!" He whooped suddenly in joy and bent to pick Hermione up and spin her.

The weight of so many years lost between them vanished as she threw her arms around his neck, "I'm sorry."

Kingsley pulled her into a tight hug again as he lowered her to the floor, and this time she could feel wetness dampen the curls at the top of her head. It mixed with her own.

"What on earth could you ever be sorry for? My sweet, Emme. Merlin, you have returned to me," he pulled away from her and tipped her chin towards him. He gasped in joy-shock. "You look so much like your mother," he said on a sad smile. That caused tears to well up in her eyes as she worried her bottom lip. Kingsley turned to his old friend, with unshed tears in his eyes. "Lucius, does she not look like Marie?"

As he truly looked at Hermione for the first time, Lucius paled as if he had seen a ghost. Lucius Malfoy had always brushed off those he thought beneath him, and a chance run-in with Potter and his Mudblood the summer before Draco's second year had been nothing but a distasteful memory in his mind. He blinked as he tried to reconcile the blurry image of a homely girl then with the confirmed issue of Marie and Kingsley Shacklebolt before him now. "But it cannot be, we thought … she was dead."

"Apparently," Draco offered from between his mother and father. "She was adopted by Muggles. When I saw her bracelet, I recognized Shacklebolt's emblem. I knew then there had to be more to it."

Narcissa hugged Lucius' slack arm in abject elation. She laughed, her eyes bright with unshed tears at this most unexpected development. "That is why you asked me so many questions about Kingsley and his family last summer!? Oh, Draco, why didn't you tell me?"

Draco observed the blissful and yet shy father and daughter as they interacted. "I wanted to be sure."

Hermione barely noticed the conversation going on next to her, she was so enraptured by Kingsley. He had the same charm as her, the same kind, brown eyes. She gave him a watery smile, "I'm sorry I can't give you back what you've lost. That so much time as passed. When I first had a suspicion…"

Kingsley lovingly held Hermione's face in his hands. The last time he had done so she had been an infant and now his little girl was a teenager. Suddenly, there wasn't enough time in the world. "Come," he bade her quickly. "You must tell me everything." He looked to the Malfoys. "Is there somewhere we can sit?"

That snapped Lucius back to the present. He cleared his throat and indicated for the reunited family to follow him with an outstretched hand. "Of, course. Please, follow me." As he led them out of the foyer and into the Manor, he stared at the witch, his shock still clear.

Kingsley tucked Hermione's arm under his as the two followed behind Lucius and Narcissa, who kept turning to glance over their shoulder and peer at their god-daughter as if she were an elusive fairy. Draco walked behind the reunited Shacklebolts trying his best not to laugh at his parents' reaction. Narcissa bade them to spend a few moments alone, stating she would have tea sent in. After she closed the door, Kingsley led Hermione to sit on a small couch.

And so, Hermione began her story.

She started at the beginning and told him that she had been adopted from a local hospital in her home town. He'd seemed surprised, and when she asked, he sadly informed her that the night they found Marie's body it was over 60 kilometers away from the hospital Hermione had named. If Marie had left with Hermione on that night long ago, how did an infant end up separated from her mother and across the countryside?

Hermione didn't have the answer to that one, but she vowed to research and find out what out really happened that night. She told him about Helen and Gregory Granger and how much of a good home they gave her. How much they loved her. Hermione could see sadness pool within the man's eyes and pressed on quickly into her later years. She told him how excited she was to find out she was a witch. How much she loved Hogwarts, A History, and found such a home within the ancient castle among its books and secrets. Kingsley laughed and told her Marie used to read the same tome to her when she was a child. Hermione smiled at that.

They were on their second pot of tea when she finished with her friendship with Neville, Harry, and Ron and how a chance meeting with Draco Malfoy led to a discovery of her true lineage.

"He gave me a picture of you and Marie," she recalled that night in the library. "You were standing beside the Malfoys and I recognized myself, my bracelet actually." She fiddled with the charm bracelet again.

"Draco Malfoy gave you this picture?" he queried.

Hermione nodded as she observed the wizard. Both she and he sat with one leg drawn under the other as they faced each other, their heads resting in one hand. She found their mirroring poses endearing.

"It's funny because he didn't mention a word of this to me earlier."

Hermione visibly released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "I didn't want him to tell anyone until I was ready," she admitted. She wondered what it must've took for Malfoy to not tell his parents or Kingsley sitting right there in front of him. It made her admire him a little bit.

Kingsley read his daughter's posture, how it relaxed it became after she realized the Malfoy heir had kept her secret. "You two have become close?" he asked very evenly.

Hermione's head lounged back on the sofa cushion with a grimace. "I'd hardly call it that. He was a prat before he found out my true lineage, and he's still one now. Just a bit more tolerable, I'd suppose." She found it easy to share her thoughts with Kingsley. Initially she thought she might be timid or shy, but happily she found they had a natural connection. She fell into an easy conversation with him, and imagined how much closer they might have been, had they had these past fifteen years together. She smiled sadly as she played with the fabric of the expensive couch.

"Does he know his parents were anointed as your god-parents?" he asked carefully. "That they still are?" Given their shaky history, Kingsley hated to bring her any kind of duress. He hated that the Malfoy heir had been so unkind to his daughter in her earlier years just because he thought she was a Muggle-born. He shook his head at Lucius' beliefs which had obviously passed to his son. He was simultaneously hurt and upset that he hadn't been there to experience her first trip to King's Cross, nor protect her from bullies like Draco and his ilk, or share with her their family's importance to their world. He wanted to say all this and more, but silently held this information to himself.

She nodded lazily, her eyes drooping. "Oh yes, Malfoy's aware alright. I think that's why he's been more tolerable of late." She quickly thought back to his Legilimency stunt and instantly soured. "Though not always."

The Auror was quiet for a moment, as he considered his daughter. "You two have a complicated history, it seems."

"He's a mean, racist little boy who thinks because of some change in my blood status that I'll suddenly forget how he's treated me and my friends, but I won't. All because of some affiliation between our family and his," she scoffed, not recognizing her brief ownership of Kingsley's family.

But Kingsley did. He smiled as she turned to face him.

"But I don't want to talk about him," she changed the subject. "Can I ask you where you grew up? Where did you meet Marie? Did she go to Hogwarts or Beaubaxtons?"

Kingsley laughed at her rapid-fire questions as he glanced at the time-piece on the wall. "It is well past one in the morning. Are your… parents expecting you?" he tried his best to sound concerned, but to the both of them, it sounded awkward. Both chuckled at the attempt. Hermione looked away politely as Kingsley wiped another tear from his eye. The reality that the long-separated father and daughter had finally reunited sunk in.

"My parents believe I am spending New Years with Harry at Grimmauld Place. I don't have to leave just yet. Please, I want to know more," she spoke to her hands unable to meet his eyes and mention her parents in the same breath. Hermione gathered he wanted to know more as well, but was too kind to push her.

Kingsley stared at her before a slow, measured smile lit his face. "Alright," he acquiesced. "But let's move this to the kitchen where we can make some coffee, deal?"

Hermione smiled back. "Deal."

AN: Why does Lucius look like he's seen a ghost when he realizes Hermione is Marie's daughter? Hmm, I wonder?

Coming up, Hermione and Kingsley experience New Years' traditions at Malfoy Manor….