It had been a mistake, Libelle knew that now, but she had spent the whole of last summer convincing herself that she couldn't go back to Hogwarts so she had to find somewhere else. She considered going abroad – to one of the European wizarding schools where no one would know who she was. Sure, the Malfoy name would always carry a stain – but perhaps her change of identity would be enough to confuse people. The issue with the European schools, however, was language. She didn't speak any other than English, and they weren't likely to teach entirely in English to accommodate one student. The American and Australian schools were out because they used a different schooling system, so she was kind of stuck. Until she found out about MAE college. Situated in the heart of London, the Merlin and Erasmus college had been set up for wizards and witches who needed to get specific qualifications to get in to training programmes. It had been a godsend when Libelle contacted them and discovered they ran all of the NEWTs that she would need to be accepted into healer training. Her surname had caused a bit of a stir when she had enrolled and, for the first time, she had to go in to explain. She had anticipated it, she knew that she was likely to be questioned intensely over the next couple of years, but that hadn't prevented her heart pounding in her chest as she arrived, or the nervous tugging at her sleeves and skirt that she was sure people would judge her for wearing. But the Professor and the admissions officer hardly batted an eyelid as she explained, through lips that felt like they were made of rubber, that she had been born male and raised as Draco – but that she had never felt right, she hadn't ever felt as though she fit into the skin she was born in. It had taken so long – especially with what was going on in the wizarding world and how her family had been embroiled in it – before she knew what the problem was, before she could express it into intelligible words. She may have been born into a male body, but she was and had always been a girl.
When the War had ended that had been her chance, to shed the old identity as the rest of her family were trying to shed the Death Eater persona. Lucius hadn't been imprisoned – yet – but he spent days and days being interrogated and then aiding the ministry to reclaim treasures, weapons, and information about lives lost; he hadn't gotten away with his actions, even though it had been noted that he and Narcissa had not fought to the bitter end. They had admitted defeat long before it had all been over.
Narcissa had known something of Draco's woes through the years, she knew he had been unhappy. Libelle clearly remembered the night when, through tear filled eyes and trembling lips, Draco had tried to explain – knowing it sounded mad, knowing it wasn't eloquent or easily understandable – that he wasn't the son she wanted, and he couldn't keep the pretence up any longer. It hurt too much. Narcissa had listened, really listened intently, to everything that her son was trying to explain. Then held her new daughter as she sobbed; it didn't matter to Narcissa whether Draco was a male or a female, all she cared about was that her child was safe and happy. In the past few years neither of those securities had been guaranteed, but now she would do whatever it took.
That night had been both one of the best, and close to one of the worst, nights of Libelle's life – but when it was over, she knew she had an ally in her mother. And when she explained that she knew what name she wanted to be called – 'Libelle' – Narcissa had exclaimed that at least it wasn't a star; it was time that tradition was broken, and when better to do it!
Lucius was going to be a completely different kettle of fish, he had always wanted a son – someone to carry on the Malfoy family name. Even when Draco had been trying his best to do everything his father wanted, and more, there had always been that niggling feeling like he wasn't good enough; he knew he could never be what his father wanted. Narcissa had told Libelle to leave the situation up to her, that Lucius would just take some time to get used to the concept. But until he was used to it, Libelle had decided to rent a flat, under the pretext that it was for college; it meant that she didn't have to deal with the tension, with the confused and disapproving looks. In all honesty, she was happier now than she had ever been.
Even starting at the new college, daunting though the thought of it had been, hadn't turned out too badly. Most of the witches and witches at MAE were either older, retraining to do something they decided they wanted as a new career; there were some international students as well; and the rest were young people from the UK – mostly home schooled. Libelle ended up in a small peer group of guys and girls who would have been in her year at Hogwarts, had they not all been home schooled. These were nice people who didn't know Draco and – as far as Libelle was concerned – didn't need to. It wasn't as though she had to start every conversation with: "Hi, I'm Libelle, and I was born a boy." She wasn't even sure that most people would understand what the word transgender meant.
By Christmas time her father had, finally, accepted the fact that he did not have a son but a daughter. There was still a shade of awkwardness between them, but not enough for it to cause tension or arguments. The same time the previous year the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters had played resident in their home – and if the Malfoys could get through that surely they could make through a little bit of awkwardness… Time was what Libelle reckoned her father needed: more time to process, and she would afford him that time – and space – because she wanted to make him happy.
She was beginning to feel more confident in herself, more at ease like no one could dent her rising self esteem, when it happened. That "it" just so happened to be Hermione Granger, one of the last people on earth Libelle wanted to come into contact with.
Two of the college classes had been due to visit this research archive, and Libelle had been really looking forward to it. It was a trip out from sitting in class, and she was sure it would be helpful for those essays she still had to write. The archive was a huge room that looked as though it never ended, it stretched into a dark chasm with rows of books that kept going. The archive had that musty "old paper" smell that so many people loved, there was a static-ness about the air, a crispness as most of the articles, journals and books lay mainly untouched on the shelves. There was an unbounded amount of knowledge stored away within this place. So she'd taken her time browsing, looking into rows that took her fancy, despite knowing she wouldn't need any of the information stored in them.
If you've ever experienced the sensation that someone or something is watching you, that is almost impossible to shake – that was the sensation that Libelle felt whilst in the archive. She tried to shake it off, reminder herself that being paranoid about these sort of things would do her absolutely no good at all. But she couldn't rid of the feeling, like the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end, and she realised that was because someone was watching her. From behind the edge of the row there was a face staring at her, with bushy hair that she could have recognised from miles away. Libelle's heart plummeted into somewhere in the region of her abdomen, her throat squeezed shut and she found it difficult to keep breathing at a normal rate. Of anyone in the world to meet her like this – so early on into her transition, while her old identity was remembered, Hermione Granger would be one of her last choices. She didn't know what to do – she couldn't pretend that she hadn't seen Hermione, not now the red flush of embarrassment spread over Hermione's cheeks. Never before had Libelle felt so tiny, she wished she could shrink and disappear into nothingness, but that would not help the situation. So she stood her ground, staring at Hermione with her heart rate increasing with every passing second.
"Draco?" The name was like a shard of ice being impaled into Libelle's heart, it caused a physical pain.
"Don't call me that." She had wanted that statement to sound strong, an order more than a request; but it came out as a weak whisper, like her throat had closed up from the panic of the situation. She closed her eyes, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow her.
"I'm sorry," Hermione's face had turned a deeper shade of scarlet, she had paused before saying: "But you are-" Libelle didn't even need to hear the end of the sentence, an ice cold rage had erupted inside her and she couldn't contain her fury.
"No I'm not!" Damn all the people that would hear her shout; she didn't need reminding that she used to be Draco – that thought weighed heavily enough on her all day, every day. Hermione had just stood there, looking timid; but Libelle wasn't having it, she wasn't going to permit Hermione to run around and tell tales about her. There were enough rumours floating about as it was without Hermione adding to them. "Don't stick your nose in where it isn't wanted Granger." She wanted it to be a threat, but her ability to be threatening had evaporated – all she was trying to do now was stop the quaver in her voice from being audible.
"I – I…" Hermione had stammered, looking uncertain.
"You keep your mouth shut, alright?" The break in her voice had ruined the intention; she had allowed the book she had been so interested in before drop to the ground, and turned to leave. Her heart still pounding in her chest as she attempted to look as calm and composed as possible until she got outside; it was a challenge not to run. She grabbed her coat from the peg it had been on, only faintly hearing the receptionist asking:
"Are you alright love?" She heard her own voice replying, mumbling something about not feeling well; she couldn't respond further, even though the receptionist was telling her to come back any time she wanted. She did feel physically sick now, she needed to be home in her flat – safe. Where she knew her momentary flare of anger would turn to upset, and she could curl up and feel protected from the outside world which always seemed determined to wound her. She wandered along the street, looking for somewhere she could apparate from, clutching her coat around her. In her haste to get away she hadn't buttoned up her coat correctly and the cold was beginning to seep in through the material. There was a small alleyway in between what looked like two office blocks, that would have to do. Maybe she was about to wake up and find that this was a dream, that she hadn't been to the archive yet and there was no concern about Hermione Granger.
It hadn't been a dream however, and no matter how much she wanted to pretend it hadn't happened Libelle couldn't get the image of Hermione Granger's face out of her head as she curled up in her bed – declaring to herself that the rest of her day should be a 'duvet and self-pity' day. She didn't want to think about that morning.
But, as it so often is, the one memory that she wanted to forget about wouldn't stop plaguing her thoughts. All day she felt like someone had suspended a weight inside her ribcage so it would progressively get heavier and harder to ignore – nothing she could do would take her mind off of it. She buried her head under her duvet, hoping that by the following morning the guilty feeling in her stomach would have vanished.
It didn't though – as she woke up to the dim light of the dawn coming through her window, the first thing that settled in her mind was an image of Hermione's face. She couldn't even identify why she felt so guilty, she tried to force the thought out of her mind as she began to get ready for college. If any of the people in her class asked where she had gone yesterday, she would just tell them that she hadn't felt well – hopefully no one would have linked her to the person that had screamed whilst in the archive.
"Libelle? Earth to 'Belle." Libelle's friend, Ceri, waved a hand in front of her face; Ceri had been sat next to her during all of the morning's classes, and she could hardly fail to notice the glazed over expression on her friends' face.
"What?" Libelle blinked, it seemed like she was only just seeing her surroundings for the first time.
"Are you okay?" Ceri asked, "You've been really out of it all morning."
"Mmm…?" Libelle still felt like she was forcing herself to pay attention, Ceri's words took a few seconds to register. "Oh sorry, my head isn't really with me today." Libelle ran her hand across her face, trying to inject a bit of wakefulness to her brain.
"Well you better hope that yours catches up because we've got potions after lunch, and I don't want you cutting off your fingers." Ceri laughed, Libelle forced a smile onto her face too, but she was still thinking about the previous day.
The grey rain clouds had been hanging heavy and low in the sky for most of the afternoon, but they only chose to open and release their contents right at the moment that Libelle's classes ended for the day. She might as well have gone home at lunchtime because her brain still hadn't engaged. Twice during potions Ceri had had to hiss at Libelle to pay attention to stop her from doing anything stupid.
"Hey 'Belle, we're going for a drink." Ceri indicated to herself, and Ceilyne and Jordan. "Do you wanna come?" Libelle seriously considered this, a couple of glasses of fire whisky, or any kind of alcohol, might be just what she would need to forget yesterday, but she found herself shaking her head at the offer.
"No thanks," She heard her voice reply before she was really aware of having made a conscious decision. "I think I'm going to head home and get some rest."
"Alright," Ceri agreed, "At least if you're awake tomorrow I won't have to stop you from accidentally adding our own digits to a potion." There was a chorus of 'byes' and 'see you laters' from them as they departed as a group. Even if Libelle went straight home, got directly into bed and closed her eyes, she knew she wouldn't get to sleep – tired as she was – she would lie awake, tossing and turning to no avail, and in the end she'd only feel worse. She had to do something to appease the guilty feeling bubbling away inside of her, and there was only one way that she could guarantee it.
Libelle skulked in the alleyway she had just apparated into for the next few minutes, making sure that no one had seen her appearing. The high walls of the businesses on either side of the alleyway meant that it was unlikely anyone would ever know she had been there in the first place. She didn't stay in the alleyway for too long, she didn't know who or what had been down there before her. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to say – unsure about explaining that she felt somehow obliged to apologise. She could just vanish – never have to see Hermione Granger again ever, but that wouldn't ease how she felt.
There was no coats lining the hooks on the walls of the entrance today, clearly there wasn't anyone visiting the archive today. The receptionist behind her desk was turning the pages of 'Witch Weekly' with her perfectly manicured fingers; Libelle couldn't quite understand people who managed to wear nail polish without it chipping in the first few seconds – perhaps there was some spell behind it.
"Hello, can I help you at all?" The receptionist asked, when she finally raised her gaze from her magazine and spotted Libelle hovering in the entrance. There was nothing for it, Libelle was going to have to bite the bullet and do it.
"I – um, I was here yesterday." Libelle could already feel her cheeks burning from embarrassment. "And-"
"You were the one who had to go home cause you weren't feeling well," She commented, looking up at Libelle with a peculiar expression on her face.
"I, yes, that was me." Libelle responded rather self-consciously, was she just acting paranoid or was the receptionist looking at her peculiarly? Had Hermione already told people?
"Are you feeling better?" She asked, Libelle had the sudden urge to say 'no' but she nodded. "Do you want to go in and have a look around? We're not open for much longer tonight, but it might give you an idea if there's anything you want to come back and see."
"Yeah, that would be really great." Libelle answered.
"On you go through." She indicated to the door on the left side of her desk.
"Can I ask a quick question?" Libelle interjected before the receptionist had gone back to reading her magazine. "Is Hermione Granger working today?" The receptionist's face broke out into a huge grin.
"Aw, do you know Hermione?" She asked, sounding much more friendly all of a sudden.
"Yeah, I – we were in the same year at school." Libelle agreed, "I thought I recognised her yesterday, but I didn't really have the chance to speak to her."
"Well she's in today, she'll be in the archive somewhere – cataloguing probably." She replied, "Just go on through."
"Thanks," Libelle pulled her bag further up on her shoulders and passed through the door, hearing the small bell chime as she entered the archive. The crispness of the air was still present, but the difference from the day before was the silence. The absence of people made the sound very deadened, every movement seemed to be amplified in the quiet – how could someone work in such silence all day? Libelle was convinced that, though the quiet, everyone would be able to hear the pounding of her heart through her ribcage; it was so loud in her ears that it seemed almost impossible for it not to be heard. Now she was beginning to feel regret for coming, her stomach clenched into knots inside her and her legs trembling with every further step. She hid in one of the first rows, pretending to be greatly interested in one of the journals even though there was no one around to see her. What was she going to say? She could feel herself shuffling nervously from foot to foot, waiting for the pounding of her heart to subside a bit before she did anything, but she didn't have the chance to run any kind of apology through her head because all of a sudden, carrying a stack of papers Hermione Granger came round the corner of the row. She stopped dead, the papers in her arms wobbling precariously as though they might all cascade to the floor, and she took a step back to steady herself.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione blurted out, looking slightly intimidated – that was an expression that cut into Libelle. She had wanted to leave behind the persona of intimidation, because it didn't inspire confidence and it always created isolation; but apparently her outburst yesterday and now just her presence was intimidating to Hermione. That feeling loosened one of the knots of apprehension in Libelle's stomach, that wasn't how she wanted to be known, it wasn't the aura she wasn't the aura she wanted to give off. Reverence, intimidation and fear weren't the way to make friends, they only attracted people who wanted the protection that those gave. Draco had spent six years flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, and that had mainly been down to his ability to guide them to appear intimidating. All of the people Draco would have called friends while at Hogwarts, were invariably seeking status, seeking protection, or seeking guidance – and it hadn't taken place. But what it had meant was that Draco – his secret about his identity still upheld – didn't have any friends he could trust. The problem with replacing friendship with an obligatory fear meant that he had only ever had himself to depend on, because how did he know if there was any real loyalty at all? Which was why that was one thing Libelle was going to take advantage of – she had the chance to start afresh, to be renewed. She wanted to make friends who liked her for who she was – not for any ulterior motive, and that meant letting go of big parts of how she had operated before. She had vowed that it was gone, but that part of her had crept in yesterday in a moment of panic – and now Hermione was standing there, looking as intimidated as if Libelle had shouted at her right at that moment.
"I…" Libelle's mouth and throat suddenly felt like sandpaper, dry and scratchy as she tried to get words out. "I came to apologise." She finally managed to string together a coherent, audible sentence.
"To apologise?" Hermione repeated, she was still holding the stack of papers but she sounded less terrified now. Libelle returned the journal she had been reading (or pretending to) onto its space on the shelf.
"For yesterday." Libelle began, looking down as she shuffled her feet. "I was shocked because I didn't expect to see anyone I knew, and then I panicked." Hermione had placed the stack of articles and papers on a desk near the end of the row, but she was still standing rather warily with her arms folded across her chest. "I didn't expect to see you, then I did and my brain went into panicked overdrive and I acted inappropriately. I shouldn't have shouted at you, or threatened you, so I'm sorry." It was jumbled, and slightly garbled as Libelle struggled to get the words and intentions in the right order. It felt like forever as Hermione gawped at Libelle, then she perhaps realised what she was doing, cheeks going slightly pink, replied:
"It's alright." Hermione's voice was fainter that usual – like she had become unaccustomed to using it. Perhaps all the time working in this silent environment had depleted her voice. "I guess I wasn't particularly polite either, sorry." Both girls stood slightly awkwardly, not quite sure what to do or say next; at least the horrid pounding of Libelle's heart had subsided now, and her stomach was slowly unclenching as she felt less terrified. "I was going to ask – you are a Malfoy, right?" Her voice wavered with uncertainty as she asked, possibly she expected another outburst.
"Yeah, I am." Libelle answered, and then decided that she might as well do it properly, she stuck her hand out to shake Hermione's. "I'm Libelle." Hermione shook her hand, it's tiny form being swamped by Libelle's huge palm and long fingers; that would be something that Libelle would never be able to reclaim – that delicacy. "I'm sorry that I startled you, can we begin afresh?"
"Yes, of course." Hermione agreed. "I don't think I would be seeing you back here, to be honest." She grinned nervously.
"I didn't really have any intentions of coming back either," Libelle replied honestly. "But what I did yesterday was bothering me, so I thought I should come and clear my conscience."
"Right, well, thank you." Hermione responded, she looked around nervously, perhaps it was just the memories of association that made her look that uncomfortable. "I should really get back to work," She muttered, moving back to where she had laid the piles of paper. "Feel free to take a proper look around." Hermione offered, lifting her bundle back into her arms.
"That's kind." Libelle replied, "But I think I'm going to just go now." She pulled her coat more tightly around her, this time she actually was going home – not like how she had said she was to her friends. Maybe she might come back one day when she had enough time to have a proper look around.
"Did you find Hermione?" The receptionist called out after Libelle as she rushed across the entrance to the archive.
"Oh yes I did," Libelle spun around to face the receptionist, grinning as she wrapped her coat closer around her. "I think I'm going to come back on a day when I've got more time." She explained rather apologetically, all the while taking small steps back towards the door.
"We'll be seeing you again some time then!" The receptionist responded cheerily.
"Yeah," Libelle said, although she was thinking 'probably not' in her head. "Bye for now." She was at the door, trying to not look too desperate to leave.
The rain had weakened from a steady downpour to a light drizzle as Libelle stepped out of the archive – at least now she had assuaged the guilty feeling inside her. It felt much nicer being a person who offered apology and received forgiveness than one who held a grudge and always sought revenge – it was very freeing. She was walking back to that little alleyway, intending to apparate back to her flat and spend the rest of her evening relaxing when she heard her name being called out behind her.
"Libelle, Libelle!" Hermione was running after her on the steps down from the archive; she stopped – feeling slightly apprehensive about why she was being followed. Hermione caught up with where Libelle was standing. "Sorry." She skidded to a halt so she was right in front of Libelle. "I just thought – let's have a completely fresh start."
"Yes." Libelle agreed, not really sure where Hermione was going with this.
"Maybe we could ignore the past completely, and – I… um," She faltered, looking unsure at herself. "Would you like to go for a coffee or something sometime?" Libelle stared blankly at Hermione, half thinking she had imagined that question, but half knowing she hadn't.
"I… I…" Libelle stammered, that had been the last question she had been expecting.
"I don't want to force you into anything." Hermione said suddenly, "I just thought that I'd offer – completely new start and all."
"No, it's just – it's not what I was expecting you to say…" Libelle responded, it wasn't that she was wary; it was just she hadn't considered that eventuality. She realised that she had been standing for nearly a minute without saying anything, while Hermione looked uncomfortable waiting for a response. "Yeah, I'd really like that." Libelle decided firmly, one coffee wouldn't hurt.
"Great, how about tomorrow?" Hermione suggested, a nervous smile on her face, Libelle nodded. "I finish work at five and there's a couple of nice little cafes around here, shall we go to one of them?"
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Libelle was astonished that her voice was sounding so calm. "I'll come here at about five tomorrow."
"That's great." Hermione was turning to go back into the archive. "I'll see you tomorrow." She disappeared back into the archive building, leaving Libelle standing in the middle of the pavement, simultaneously disbelieving and unsure, but slightly excited, about what had just happened.
A/N: I'd love to know what you think about this chapter :)