Chapter Eight: A New Normal
The start of 1996 began on a relatively positive note, but Hermione was not naïve enough to think it would last. She wanted to maintain a sense normalcy (or as much normalcy that came with being Harry Potter's friend), but she knew things would move beyond her control the more people became aware of her true identity. It was a chance she was willing to take, despite the Malfoys misgivings. So, after the newness of the term had settled, she had quietly pulled Ginny, Ron, Harry and Neville aside once their common room had emptied for the night. She told them what she had learned from the start of the term, how she was the lost daughter of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Marie Delacour, and finished with her meeting Kingsley for the first time right before the New Year.
Ron was the first to scratch his neck from his place on the floor. "So, you're telling us Kingsley Shacklebolt is your dad? You're a pureblood. And you found out because of Malfoy?"
Hermione conceded part of the point as she stroked Crookshanks' fur. "It's more like I suspected as such. Malfoy only confirmed my suspicions."
"Merlin, does this mean you're related to Fleur?" Ginny squeaked.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, Fleur's mother, Apolline, and Marie were sisters. I guess that would make us cousins." She wondered about other familial connections she had missed out on because of her past.
Harry nodded as he put the pieces of her story together in her head. "We were wondering where you were during the break and why you didn't come to Grimmauld Place. This certainly explains a lot."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "I missed you all as well. But I decided to spend the New Year at Malfoy Manor at the last minute."
"Wait, you spent New Year's at Malfoy's house?" Ron asked.
Ginny crossed her arms as she appraised the witch across from her on the couch. "What else aren't you telling us, Hermione?"
"You have to understand. Malfoy informed me that Kingsley would be visiting his parents over the holidays. It seemed like the perfect time to meet," she explained to the group. Neville remained quiet as he listened to her reasoning.
"Just how much time are you spending with Malfoy?" Harry pressed from his place beside Ron on the floor.
"If you would stop interrupting me, Harry. I can tell you." Hermione ran a hand through her hair. "Promise me you won't overreact." She waited until they had nodded in the affirmative before continuing, "The Malfoys are my god-parents."
A chorus of "What?!" and "Are you serious?" rang out, until she ssh-ed them.
"I am," she replied over the din. "Don't look at me like that, Ronald. It isn't as if I chose them. Kingsley and Lucius were in Slytherin together. They were close. I guess it was a logical choice at the time," she concluded, a bit haughtily.
"But Kingsley fought with the Order during the first war," Harry pointed out. "And Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater. I saw him the night Voldemort returned. How can he be your god-father?"
"I know it looks complicated, Harry. But some things aren't as black or white as you'd think."
Ron made a face as he sat with his back against the couch. "Please don't tell me you're starting a defense for the Malfoys, of all people."
"I'm starting a defense for a friendship!" she emphatically replied. "Sometimes you look past the faults in others because they are your friends," she said pointedly to Harry and Ron on the floor. "I don't know the reason why Kingsley remains friends with the Malfoys. But you should have seen them! They obviously share a lot of history. I'm a part of that history."
"Yes, well history is good," Harry replied. "But what about the future? Where do the Malfoys line up on that?"
Because they all knew where Hermione and Kingsley's future led. It led to fighting with the Order of the Phoenix against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
"That I don't know," she admitted. "There were other matters to discuss at the time."
"Like what?" Harry asked.
Hermione indicated to their small group. "Like this. I wanted to tell you, and only you, before anyone else found out."
"I still don't see how Neville knew before us," Ron grumbled.
"Hey!" Neville reacted, offended.
"Shut it, Ron. She's telling us now," Ginny came to Neville's defense. "Blimey, Hermione. You're a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! Do you know the possibilities this could bring?" she exclaimed.
Hermione smiled appreciatively at Ron's younger sister, though she did not share the younger witch's enthusiasm. "Thanks, Gin. Yes, and that is why I wanted you all to know before the public did. I gather there will be much ado afterwards."
"You aren't kidding," Ginny whistled. "The papers will lose it once it's announced that a lost daughter from the Sacred Twenty-Eight has been found alive after she was thought to be dead."
"Exactly. Which is why I don't want this to get out before school dismisses for the summer," Hermione implored to the group. "I want to tell my parents in-person. Kingsley and I are planning to visit them this summer and if they approve, I would like to spend the summer with him."
"Well as long as you don't forget about us once you become a celebrity," Harry quipped as he nudged her leg goodheartedly; it was his way of letting her know he approved of her decision.
"Please, as if I'll displace the 'Chosen One'," she shoved his shoulder with her foot.
"Who's currently off his rocker, if you'd read the papers," Ron replied easily.
They all laughed before the obvious weighed upon them. "But what about the Malfoys?" Harry couldn't help his focus on the pureblood family.
Hermione narrowed her brows. "What about them?"
"Lucius was and still is a Death Eater," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "Even if he's your god-father, it will not make him suddenly want to change sides. It doesn't matter if he and Kingsley were friends, or if Kingsley named him your god-father. How are you both going to navigate this?"
Hermione bit her bottom lip. "We haven't exactly worked that part out yet."
And that was the truth of the matter.
From her brief interaction with the elusive pureblood family, she had learned that the Malfoys were a surprisingly loyal group. During their early morning talk over coffee, Kingsley informed her how Lucius took great pains to protect his family during the first wizarding war. While Kingsley had never met Lucius across the battlefield, he felt no regret in testifying on Lucius' behalf at his trial afterwards.
Hermione had gently asked why Lucius believed in Voldemort's cause, and stoically, the Auror responded, that it is in their nature as the Heir of a great House to seek the best, to seek power. As a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, there was an unspoken responsibility that they carried the future of the wizarding world. This weight demanded reverence to the past and a responsibility to the future. Kingsley informed her how his father had explained the duties, demands, and responsibilities as the Heir to their House, and how Lucius received the same training from his father at an early age. Kingsley did not agree with Lucius' plans to obtain power and prestige, and though he sought to persuade his friend at the outset, Kingsley couldn't dissuade Lucius' mind once it was made up. Thus, their Houses were set onto separate paths, and the two former friends' relationship grew strained.
Thoughtful, Hermione wondered what would make Lucius change his mind, and switch his trajectory on the road for power.
She was surprised to hear Kingsley's response then. His family, he had said to her. That statement made her regard the Malfoy Lord in a different light. Like she had said, not everything fit neatly into dark or light.
"Well, I don't see Voldemort's right hand man knocking on the door to Grimmauld anytime soon," Ron replied, drawing Hermione from her thoughts.
She shook her head and frowned, still contemplating Kingsley's words from before. "No, I suppose you wouldn't."
Hermione found not much had changed after she revealed her secret after the start of the term. The fear that they would see or treat her differently abated the next day as they returned to their regular schedules. January quickly bled over to late February, Dumbledore's Army grew in their strength, and Hermione continued preparation for her O.W.L.S.; all was well for a time.
One particularly cold, February morning, she pulled on additional layers as she readied for the start of classes. Typically, Hermione was the first to leave before her roommates, but today she trudged slowly out of the portrait door after a late study session the night before. Few students rushed passed her in effort to eat a morning meal before the food was gone, but Hermione would be fine as long as she grabbed a cup of coffee and piece of fruit. Apparently, breakfast was quite a ruckus as she moved closer to the Great Hall's entrance.
Checking her satchel to make sure she had the right books and enough parchment, she felt the distinct feeling of being watched as she moved automatically to Gryffindor's table. Distantly, she noticed an eerie silence had befallen the Hall at the same time she entered the room. When she looked up from her satchel, she was surprised to see the entire student population staring at her.
Eyes wide, she thought to check her person, thinking she might have been the unbeknownst victim of a Weasley prank. But as she moved between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor's tables, she swallowed audibly as heads and eyes shadowed her every move.
Her neck grew warm as she moved through the gawking students. She noticed that most, if not all, were holding the morning edition of the Prophet. In black and white, she could make out a picture of Kingsley hurrying into his office at the Ministry, before the door shut in the reporter's face. The picture re-wound and started all over again. Besides Kingsley's picture was a re-hashed picture of she and Harry, embraced in a hug before his first task at last year's Tri-Wizarding Tournament. Above the pictures in angry, bold print was the heading: "Presumed Dead, Shacklebolt Heiress Found Alive and Masquerading as a Muggle-born".
Nearly every student held a copy of the edition and stared at her as if they could discern the truth for themselves. Some looked at her with amazement, some with doubt, and others with scorn.
She slowed to a stop before Ron and the others, all holding the paper. Hermione saw up close the picture of herself, of Kingsley, as she re-scanned the headline for an obvious error.
"What is going on?" she hissed harshly, her neck and face now fully aflame. She snatched the paper from Ron who smiled sheepishly at her.
"Don't rightly know. The owls brought in the papers and then…" he indicated to the article as whispers down the table and across the aisles grew in fervor.
Horrified, Hermione read that beetle of a woman's front-page feature.
Sixteen years ago, our world mourned with respected Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt's for the loss of his wife, Marie Shacklebolt née Delacour, and infant daughter, Emmeline (then aged 1). But now sources have confirmed the impossible. The wizarding world's own Anastasia Romanov has returned! Adopted muggle-born Hermione Granger, love interest to the Chosen One, has been confirmed as the lost Shacklebolt Heiress. Multiple sources confirmed a reunion between distraught father and daughter at Malfoy Manor, arranged by none other than Lucius Malfoy himself….
Hermione threw down the paper in disgust. "That wretched woman!"
"Hermione, please tell me this is true." Lavender demanded from down the table, her eyes alight with amazement.
"Did you know all this time you weren't a Muggle-born?" Colin Creevey piped up, as he snapped a picture of a surprised Hermione.
There was no time to form a decent response, so Hermione quickly gathered her things, shooting worried glances at her friends. "How did this get out?" she seethed beneath her breath, while giving a withering stare to those who had started to gather around her.
Harry shrugged as Neville also gathered his things. "Let's get to class," Harry offered, in effort to talk in private.
Soon Harry, Ron, Neville had gathered their things to head to Transfiguration, while Ginny left for Herbology. Hermione couldn't move fast enough past the onlookers and other students who came forward to ask about her newly-acquired blood status. She was almost to the entryway when Marietta Edgecombe blocked her way.
"Are you doing this for the publicity?" Marietta asked with heap of snide.
"Marietta, leave her be," fellow member of Dumbledore's Army and Ravenclaw Cho Change spoke beside her.
Hermione huffed as she tightened her hands around the strap of her satchel, her frustration mounting. She owed zero explanation to this girl, nor the lot of students that had started to gather around. "Who on Earth would I plan something as idiotic as this?" she berated the Ravenclaw.
The red-head lifted her nose before the younger Gryffindor. "You always thought you were that better than us as a Muggle-born, and now this," Marrieta accused. "The know-it-all had go and turn princess on us," she spoke to the crowd. Some students even nodded in agreement with Marrieta.
Hermione saw red. Aside from a few, most never knew the hurt and pain she endured from never belonging in one world. And now in this world, there were sneers and whispers, as if she had plotted this entire mess.
"Are you going to run and cry to your newly-found daddy, now?" Marietta laughed. "Go ahead. It's not like you're the only student here with contacts at the Ministry." A smatter of students around Marietta laughed as well.
But rather than crying, Hermione reared her arm back and quickly moved. She smacked Marietta in the face, and the girl fell directly into Cho. Stepping through the commotion and Ron's jubilant calls, Hermione rushed from the Great Hall as anxiety started to take hold. But she didn't get far.
"I saw that Ms. Granger, or should I say Ms. Shacklebolt," a familiar drawl she regrettably recognized began behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut as her day was assuredly about to go from bad to worse. Hermione stopped in her tracks as she waited for their Potions professor to dole out her punishment.
"She was only defending herself," she heard Neville plead to Professor Snape in her defense.
Hermione turned to Professor Snape with weary eyes. She only wanted to get out of there.
Their professor took in her frazzled appearance and quietly clipped, "Detention. 8pm tonight." He turned back to the Great Hall and reprimanded Cho to assist Marietta to Madam Pomfrey's. The commotion at the entrance gave Hermione and the others time to reach the classroom before the others joined them.
After a most trying day, Hermione was grateful to serve a detention alone with Professor Snape that evening. It seemed as if half the school met her newly-discovered status with jeers and distrust, while the other half immediately sought to become her new best friend. The weirdest encounter of the day came when Daphne Greengrass saddled up to her during Potions. The pretty witch, who had never paid Hermione a lick of attention before, prattled on and laughed at everything Hermione said as they paired on an in-class project. Hermione left the class knowing way too much about the Greengrass girl, and with the distinct feeling that she had been pumped for information she did not have.
Sighing, Hermione dropped into a seat in front of Professor Snape's desk. Her head heavy, she was ready to serve her detention.
"Trying day?"
Hermione snapped to at the Professor's question. Waiting to see if a barb or usual quip was to follow, Hermione replied a bit slower than usual. "I've had better."
Snape was quiet for a moment, before he chose to respond. Their Potions professor always seemed as if he was measuring one's aptitude before willingly choosing to disclose information. "If you must know, Kingsley Shacklebolt has been holding extensive floo calls with Professor Dumbledore throughout the day. He is most … concerned as to your well-being."
Hermione exhaled through her nose. While she faced her own scrutiny at Hogwarts, she could only imagine the reporters dogging Kingsley at the Ministry about this latest discovery. She was also saddened that this did nothing but serve as a reminder that while Hermione was here, his wife was not. Still, it felt nice to know she wasn't battling this uproar alone.
Professor Snape continued, "Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy also floo-called the Headmaster." He waited and gauged Hermione's reaction.
Hermione smiled to the desk, trying to picture the conversation. "Did they?" She looked up from the desk to see Professor Snape giving her a quizzical once-over. "I know they are my god-parents." Hermione rolled her eyes at Snape's non-reaction to her admission. "That blasted rag didn't get every detail wrong."
"And just how much do you know?"
Hermione never thought she would open up to the reclusive professor, but she had that much of a horrible day. "Not much else." She looked to the dungeon roof, hating the accompany pinch that stung her eyes, signaling the approach of tears. This day had been too much as she valiantly sought to stop the onslaught of tears that were sure to fall.
"It you must know," Snape continued evenly. "Lucius promised things I dare not repeat if any harm were to come to you. Professor Dumbledore was taken aback at their combined candor."
Hermione nodded, eyes still skyward. After a few deep breaths, she lowered her gaze back to her professor, feeling the initial onslaught of emotion lessen. "Would it be possible for me to contact my parents, I mean, my adopted parents?"
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would be amendable to such a request."
Hermione wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, as she nodded her thanks, unable to verbally respond for the moment. Then a handkerchief appeared in her blurred vision. Professor Snape had moved to stand over her desk and produced the linen for her to take. She gratefully used it to dry her eyes.
"Chin up, Ms. Granger," he drawled quietly as if the words were forcefully pulled from his tongue. "Chin up."
Hermione nodded, a bit more settled in her resolve now.
"Since it is after curfew, I'll have a prefect escort you back to Gryffindor Tower." Hermione raised a brow – surely Professor Snape knew she was a prefect herself and did not require an escort. "I will not be so lenient the next time you assault a student in the presence of teachers. Consider this a favor to your father," he dismissed her, and turned for his desk in a flourish of black robes.
She did not thank him verbally as she gathered her things with a wry smile. Slytherins, she thought.
Waiting in the dungeon hallway was none other than Slytherin's current prince himself. The blond was waiting non-chalantly against the wall, his arms crossed. As she closed the door behind her, he pushed off the wall. She took note of the brief once-over he'd gave her, but all she could think of was that he had been right in everything he said. Those blasted tears started to make a return.
"Don't go and get emotional on me now, Granger." She noted his bite held less sting than it normally did and Hermione took the blond's roundabout about way of concern as reassurance. "I don't fancy getting hit like Edgecomb this morning."
"If you mind your manners, then you've nothing to worry about," Hermione replied with a partial smile. They walked in companionable silence across the dungeon as Hermione hugged her books close to her chest for comfort.
"Father has been in touch with Hogwarts' Governors and his contacts at the Prophet," Draco gave easily to her. "I suspect this'll die down soon."
"But not soon enough," Hermione finished for him.
He stuffed his hands inside his trousers. "We did warn you to get out in front of this and control the narrative."
Hermione bristled as they started towards the main staircase. "Yes, yes. I know. But there's nothing I can do about it now."
"Yes, there is. Use this to your advantage," Draco countered. "Your father carries great favor and goodwill at the Ministry, you know. Don't let the others get to you. I'll keep the Slytherins in line—"
Hermione interrupted him at that. "You'd what?"
Draco hoisted a brow. "Unless you rather be ambushed by Daphne and the like…?"
Knowing she needed all the help she could get, Hermione replied eagerly, "By all means, then. Do you know Daphne spent the entire class asking me what Kingsley was doing this summer? And she kept insinuating how it would be nice for us to visit. Then she went into god-awful detail about her summer house and pet cat."
"Ah yes, Mr. Sputters."
The two teens fell into easy laughter that had Hermione loads feeling better. She instantly wanted nothing more than a warm blanket, a cup of tea, and a good book to shut out the rest of the world. But they were moving closer to their O.W.L.S. and quiet time would practically be non-existent moving forward; and this breaking story assured she would have little peace in the coming days. She sighed as she shared with the fellow teen, "Professor Snape mentioned that Kingsley, and your parents have been floo-calling Dumbledore throughout the day."
"Well, you are a hot topic."
"Bully for me."
They reached Gryffindor's portrait entrance and before she could bid Draco goodnight, he reached out to grab her arm. She froze at the unexpected contact, but did not brush him off. "You know, we didn't go to the Prophet. We swore we wouldn't tell anyone until you told your parents and we keep our promises, Granger," Draco offered, his silver-grey eyes clear of ill-intent.
Hermione smiled as Draco was slow to release her arm. She rubbed the spot he had touched unconsciously and nodded in the affirmative. "I know." She wasn't sure how she did, but she just knew in her gut that the Malfoys hadn't gone to the press.
He threw his head to the door beyond the portrait. "Keep your friends close, Granger," he offered as a cryptic warning. Giving no time for her to respond, he nodded his head and started back down the stairs. "Good night."
Hermione knew that Draco, nor his family, hadn't been the one to spill her secret to the Prophet, which brought her to who did. And why? She went to bed with a lot to think about.
an1: Oh, Hermione. The best laid plans never work, do they? Sigh, now who blathered to the press?
an2: Holy crap! This story, further down the line, is going there! I have no one to share it with as I write it out, except my hubby, and he's like a fair-weather HP fan. Ugh, I can't wait to share it with you. *wrings hands* like I want to tell you now and I… just... can't! uuuugggghhhh
an3: Next up, the end of the school year and the Battle at the DOM!
an4: You all continue to be amazing – I love you!