A/N: I'm very excited…I have 100 reviews. This makes me quite happy.
Just a quick note about reviews, I ask for them so I know people are actually reading my story. If no one is reading, then I'll just write at my own pace for my own enjoyment and not be bothered to post it on here at all. I'm not trying to be greedy, I just want to know my time is well spent. I work 40 hours a week 7am-4pm, with a 45 to 90 minute commute in both directions. So if I don't know anyone is reading this story, then I won't waste my free time posting it on here, I'll just write it for my own personal enjoyment. And I don't really wait until I have the requisite number of reviews before posting the next chapter. Usually it's not even written yet.
That said, since I have so many reviews, it seems like there are a reasonable amount of people reading. So don't worry, I'll keep posting.
I'm off to the beach on Sunday for a whole week, so don't expect anything until the first or maybe even later ::cringes::. Sorry!!
Chapter Nine
Draco leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The airplane was taxiing down the runway, and his stomach was tied in teeny little knots. Flying made him extremely nervous and the snowstorm outside was making matters far worse.
"Don't worry, our Lord will protect us," Lucius whispered to Draco as the jet detached from the ground. They were taking an airplane home because the ministry had refused to set up another portkey unless all of the students were returning for good; it was far too risky. As Draco was not yet licensed to Apparate, Lucius had insisted that the ministry pay for first class tickets, round trip. A lady in the row in front of them turned around and smiled at Draco.
"Our Lord always provides for his devoted children," she said solemnly, with a pronounced southern drawl. Lucius gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Are you two traveling alone?" she continued. She stood up and relocated to the seat next to Lucius. Her short blonde hair bounced as she moved and her perfectly straight white teeth rivaled Draco's expensive orthodontia.
Draco bit his tongue to keep from laughing as the bubbly woman began talking about her work with the Southern Baptist Ministries. She was on her way to Africa to work with famine victims, and she had to make a connecting flight in London. Lucius sat there listening to her babble on and on precociously, and pretended to be fascinated with the woman's story. Draco stretched his legs and began looking through the complimentary magazine the airline had provided.
Winter vacation had come much faster than Draco had expected. He had known for a while that his father would find a way to get involved in this project. It was completely unlike Lucius to let anyone interfere with the plans he had for his son. Samantha had been asking for trouble by sending Draco so far away. It came as no shock to Draco that Lucius had randomly shown up in the states. He probably should have said something about his suspicions to Hermione, so she would not have been caught off guard to see the real Lucius show up at her house.
Draco was surprised to find that he was actually worried about Hermione. Not just because she was really sick, but because he had just vanished with Lucius and she had obviously not been expecting that to happen. He wished there was a way to talk to her without his father becoming suspicious about him showing sensitivity to muggles.
Meanwhile, Lucius was still listening to the woman tell her life story and talk about how she had found Jesus. He nodded appropriately and occasionally interjected a precisely calculated and delicately worded thought of his own. The woman was convinced that Lucius and Draco were also born-again Christians, and Lucius did nothing to dissuade her from this belief. It was almost sick the way he presented his words in such a manner that he actually confirmed her conviction without actually lying to her. Draco knew exactly where this was heading. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, deciding to catch up on some sleep.
Hermione sighed and put another spoonful of soup into her mouth. Across the table, her mother and father exchanged loaded glances, and then looked back at Hermione. She had not left the house except to attend dance rehearsals since that afternoon one week ago when her mother had scolded her, and she had done nothing but mope around since Draco had left. The doctor had assured her parents that she was just bored, but Hermione knew better.
"Well," her father began, making sure Hermione was looking at him before he went on. "I've decided to announce my bid for senate," he said proudly. Hermione just looked at him blankly, not surprised in the least. Her mother, on the other hand, gasped aloud.
"That's fantastic!" she exclaimed. She gave Hermione a look, and Hermione forced a smile. "When are you going to announce it to the public?" she asked. He began to ramble on about waiting until the time was ripe, and Hermione looked down at her soup bowl letting his words drift away. The surface of her soup was covered in tiny spots of oil, which she quickly dispersed with her spoon. The tomato bisque soup was leaving a nice red ring around the edge of the white china bowl. For some reason, Hermione felt a grim sense of satisfaction upon observing this.
"I hope you all are ready, because this family is about to become very high-profile," Her father said, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. She looked up at him, studying his face. He was not a young man, but his skin appeared elastic and tan. His hairline was showing distant signs of recession - but no gray - thanks to his personal hairdresser. He flashed his brilliant white smile at her.
"You have something in your teeth," Hermione said flatly. Mr. Granger stopped smiling and Hermione could see him run his tongue along his teeth. He turned to his wife for assistance, and Hermione got up from the table. "I'm going to go lie down," she said as she exited the room.
The first thing Hermione did upon arriving in her room was call Violet, who was suffering through Christmas in Paris. A male voice answered the phone and Hermione had to check to make sure she had dialed Violet's cell phone. When Violet came on the phone, Hermione told her of her father's announcement.
"We knew it," Violet proclaimed. "Mom!" she called out to her mother across the room. "Mr. Granger is running for the senate," she yelled. Hermione could hear Violet's mother in the background, clearly expressing how she had always known this was coming.
"Who answered your phone?" Hermione asked. There was a long pregnant pause before Violet responded.
"Holden," she admitted. Hermione could picture her best friend looking incredibly guilty on the other line. "He came along because you were too sick to leave the country, and my mother invited him," she said quickly.
"Are you having fun?" Hermione asked. There was a nervous sensation in her stomach, as though she were about to be sick. The conversation ended quickly, and Hermione lay down in her bed. How was it that everyone around her was having so much fun and she was stuck at home, about to be thrown out to the wolves? The press had always been bad but they were only going to get worse as soon as her father announced his bid for the Senate.
Heaving a deep sigh, Hermione tried to turn her thoughts to something else. The Nutcracker was opening the next night. For once, Hermione was not excited in the least about her performance. She had been passed up for the part of Clara due to her illness. Instead, the role had gone to a girl in Hermione's leadership class who was a junior and constantly asking Hermione for pointers on her "technique". Hermione wanted to strangle the girl sometimes, especially now that she had Hermione's rightful part.
Hermione got up and opened her window to take some pictures of the frozen gardens below. Her completed portfolio was due when she returned to school, and so she had been taking pictures almost nonstop. It was the only thing she had been doing lately that brought her any enjoyment at all. Even reading made her feel like gouging her eyes out, a first for Hermione.
While she was trying to focus her camera lens on the fountain at the foot of the terrace, a rather large bird flew into her room, coming seemingly out of nowhere. Hermione screamed and dropped her camera on the bedroom floor. The owl landed on her dresser making soft hooting noises and looking at Hermione with big beady eyes. Unable to think of anything else to do, Hermione picked up one of her shoes and threw it at the owl.
Fortunately, her parents heard her screams and were in the room after only a few minutes. Her father grabbed a pillow off Hermione's bed and tore the pillowcase off. The owl was now flying frantically around the room, trying to steer clear of his grasp, but he caught it and shoved it in the pillowcase.
"Get Consuela to call animal control," he instructed Mrs. Granger. She headed right out of the room. "Is this the same owl that's been coming around?" he asked Hermione. Hermione shrugged, and he opened the bag slightly to show her. Sure enough, the snowy white owl sat looking quite disgruntled at the bottom of the pillowcase. Hermione nodded, relieved that the owl would finally stop pestering her. Mr. Granger peered into the pillowcase and frowned.
"What is it?" Mrs. Granger asked, coming back into the room. Mr. Granger held the bag where she could see. "Is that parchment?' she asked. Hermione peered into the pillowcase and then reached in to untie the rolled up piece of paper from the bird's ankle. "Oh, be careful!" Mrs. Granger cried out. Hermione pulled the paper out and unrolled it.
"Dear Hermione?" Her father asked, looking over her shoulder. "Is this some kind of joke?" Hermione shook her head and scanned to the bottom of the page to see who it was from.
"You don't know anyone named Harry," Her mother commented, reading the signature. The three looked at each other, all incredibly puzzled.
"How many other Hermiones can there be?" Hermione asked, wondering who this Harry person was and why he would send a letter by owl. The owl hooted angrily at the bottom of the pillowcase and began snapping at the fabric.
"We need to be very careful," Her father said, snatching the letter away from her. "I'll see to it that this doesn't happen anymore. I won't have anyone stalking my daughter," he informed them.
"Oh, Hermione! We need to get to your dress rehearsal," Her mother realized, glancing at the clock. Hermione looked at the clock and put a pair of shoes on. Her bag was already packed with everything she would need for the rehearsal.
"I'll take care of this," Mr. Granger said, following the women downstairs. "Break a leg, sweetie," he said, giving Hermione a one-armed hug with the arm that was not holding the pillowcase. Hermione followed her mother out to the car, wishing that winter would hurry up and leave already.
"Hedwig still hasn't come back," Harry mourned, scanning the starless winter sky for his beloved owl. "It's been three days," he informed Ron for the fifth time that hour.
"I don't know what to tell you," Ron said, a bit annoyed, "Maybe Hermione is sending our presents. Christmas is tomorrow, you know."
"Maybe," Harry agreed halfheartedly, not moving from the window. He had a bad feeling that Ron was wrong.
"I want to commend you for your excellent work," a horrific sounding voice said. Each hair on the back of Draco's neck stood straight up. It was unlikely that he would ever get used to hearing Lord Voldemort's haunting voice. Next to Draco, Pansy stood up straight and he could tell she hated the sound of that voice as well.
"Thank you, my Lord," Draco's own voice startled him. It sounded sincere and confident, though Draco felt anything but at the moment. His skin was covered in tiny goose bumps.
"Your progress, Draco, has been quite slow," the Dark Lord continued. "I have been marking it, and I feel as though we must proceed faster from here on out. My followers are returning, but they will not be enough to regain the power I once had. I need you two to begin amassing followers in the states, as well as to continue with your other assignment."
"Yes, my Lord," Draco and Pansy said in unison. Voldemort dismissed them and turned his attention to other matters. Draco and Pansy climbed the dark stone stairs from the damp castle basement to the main floor where Christmas breakfast was awaiting them. The real Lucius and Narcissa were waiting at the dining room table, along with Pansy's parents and Blaise Zabini and her family, to include Samantha and her husband.
"May we open presents after breakfast?" Blaise asked. Mr. Zabini looked at his wife with an amused expression on his face. The atmosphere at the breakfast table was much warmer than that of the dungeon where Lord Voldemort held court. It seemed almost like home to Draco, as though they were all one big family.
"I don't know, who says there are any presents?" Mr. Zabini replied, unable to keep from grinning.
"Da-ad," Blaise whined.
"Of course," her father rolled his eyes in almost perfect unison with the others at the table. This did not stop everyone from eating at a hurried pace. Once the plates were clear, the younger members of the group hovered anxiously at the edges of their seats, waiting to be dismissed.
"Certainly you're not all waiting for me," the grating voice sounded as Lord Voldemort entered the room. "Come, come," he motioned for everyone to follow him. He led them down the hall to the ballroom, where he paused momentarily. "Happy Christmas," he said, pushing open the double doors. The indulgent smile on his face reminded Draco of his grandfather, and he smiled back at the Dark Lord in spite of his earlier misgivings.
Draco felt his breath catch in his throat as the room came into view. An enormous Christmas tree sat at the far end of the room, surrounded by a sea of metallic-wrapped packages that extended from wall to wall of the vast ballroom. It made the tree that usually occupied Malfoy Manor look like a twig. One by one they started making their way into the room. Draco found a present with his name on it and picked it up. As soon as it was clear of the spot, another present appeared in its place with a small popping noise. A grin spread across Draco's face.
It took the group until dinnertime to make a noticeable dent in the presents. Most of the gifts were from the Dark Lord himself, but there were others from friends and family members. When they adjourned for dinner only one layer of presents remained, and there were a few pathways open for walking through.
Hermione sat at the dinner table wishing that Draco's family had not gone to the Alps for Christmas. Her parents had friends over, of course, but Hermione was the only person under thirty in the room and she was sorely missing Draco's ability to make any horrible social event somewhat palatable.
Instead, Hermione was left to discuss college options and future plans with people she only vaguely knew. As the crowning moment of the evening, her father chose that night to announce his bid for senate to their friends. Hermione anxiously watched the clock, and waited until it was late enough that she could politely go to bed without making her mother furious.
When she got to her bedroom, she discovered a small box wrapped in silver paper sitting on her pillow. She smiled, knowing right away that it was a gift from Draco. After she changed into her pajamas, she sat cross legged on her bed and tore open the wrapping. Inside was a black velvet jewelry box, which she held and ran her fingers over a few times before actually opening it.
Nestled on a little satin pillow inside the box was a simple silver necklace. It was a basic silver chain with a small heart charm, encrusted with some of the most sparkling diamonds Hermione had ever seen. She held her breath as she pulled it out of the box and held it in her hand.
"It's beautiful," she said aloud, wondering how Draco had gotten it to her bedroom without her noticing.
"A beautiful necklace for a beautiful girl," a familiar voice said. Hermione looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorframe of her closet. She dropped the necklace, startled.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. He grinned evilly.
"Delivering presents. And finishing up some business," he responded, walking towards her. Hermione could feel her heart pounding, and she was not sure why. This was Lucius Malfoy; she had grown up with the man. He was almost more of a father to her than her own father was. There was no reason to be scared of him, was there? She smiled.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't see you come in the house," she said. He sat down on the end of her bed, far enough away to be unthreatening. Picking up the necklace, he motioned for her to turn around. Hermione lifted her hair off her neck, and Lucius fastened it securely for her. He smiled, seeing it sparkle on her skin.
"My son is thoroughly captivated by you, my dear," he informed her. Hermione noticed just then that his hair fell past his shoulders. Lucius had always kept his hair cut short, or at least that was how Hermione remembered it. She frowned, struggling to remember. "Don't tell me you hadn't noticed," he scolded. Hermione shook her head. "My dear girl, he is completely smitten. He has done nothing but mope around the entire time we've been skiing," Lucius informed her, standing up and heading for the door. "Try not to break his heart," Lucius added, before he closed her bedroom door behind himself. He walked down the hall to an empty bedroom, humming a Christmas carol to himself.
Hermione tried to process the events that had just transpired. Lucius had flown back into town to do business on Christmas day? The man was a workaholic, but this was getting ridiculous. She picked up her cell phone and called Draco, but her call went straight to the answering machine. Disappointed, Hermione hung up and turned out her light. She felt a familiar twinge in her stomach. Draco was "smitten" with her? A smile crept across her face as she played with the necklace around her neck. How had she never noticed until now?
Draco sat in the living room with Lord Voldemort, sipping at some peppermint hot chocolate and anxiously awaiting his father's return. A sharp crack in the hall signaled that the wait was over. Moments later, Lucius walked into the room still humming a Christmas carol.
"Well?" Lord Voldemort was the first to speak and a chill went down Draco's spine. Lucius smiled vibrantly, making Draco both terrified and relieved at the same time.
"It could not have gone better," Lucius informed them. "Hermione has absolutely no recollection of the Wizarding world, now that Samantha has finally gotten her act together. She is yours, Draco," he explained. Draco felt a twinge of guilt, but forced it to go away. Hermione would understand when the time was right. He forced a smile to cross his face by thinking of her as "his." Draco was not a misogynist, rather he worshipped the female persuasion and their ability to hold him captivated by their enigmatic ways.
"I trust you can handle it from here?" Lord Voldemort asked. Draco nodded.
"Yes, My Lord. Pansy has agreed to help," he said. "When shall I bring her to you?" he asked.
"Spring Break," the Dark Lord replied.
"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger's voice woke Hermione from her day-dreamy trance. Hermione had been arranging photos, trying to put her portfolio in some sort of working order, and waiting for the reporter to arrive. One of the local news magazines was doing an article on Hermione, for reasons Hermione could not comprehend. She glanced in the mirror and headed down the stairs.
"It is such a pleasure to meet you," the petite brunette gushed, extending her hand to Hermione.
"Nice to meet you," Hermione said, shaking hands with the reporter. Her mother led them into the living room, where they made themselves comfortable and Hermione's interview started.
"So, tell me all about college, what do you want to do?" the woman asked. Hermione launched into her well-rehearsed tirade about Wellesley versus Harvard and Political Science versus Art.
"Was it a total shock to you when your father announced his bid for Senate?" she went on.
"Well, obviously you don't just wake up in the morning and decide to run for Senate," Hermione began. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father hovering in the doorway. "His friends have been suggesting it for quite some time now. It was always sort of a joke, but I suppose the idea was there. So not a total shock, but a pleasant surprise," she finished, watching her mother's expression carefully. It was impossible to be honest with an audience.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" was the next question. Hermione's hand flew unconsciously to the necklace around her neck.
"Yes, she does," Draco's comforting drawl came from the doorway. He crossed into the room, and Hermione stood up even though she felt like her legs would not support her. Draco gave her an enormous hug and sat down next to her on the couch. Did Draco really mean that he was her boyfriend now? Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she blushed a delicate shade of raspberry.
"How does Dad feel?" The reporter asked, craning her neck to look at Mr. Granger who was standing in the doorway.
"Delighted," Mark Granger responded, flashing a bright smile at the reporter and coming to stand next to his wife. "You don't mind, do you, Hermione?" he asked.
"No, come on in," Hermione smiled phonily at him. The reporter went on and on, asking questions for another hour before she asked to get some pictures. This took another hour of moving around and posing and repositioning.
"This will appear in about two weeks," the reporter said, finally wrapping up the session. "It will go to your publicist first, of course," she said to Mr. Granger.
"Fantastic," he replied, showing her to the door. Hermione sunk into the couch, exhausted. Draco gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she was reminded of the bombshell he had dropped two hours earlier.
"What is going on?" she asked him. He grinned.
"I didn't want the word to get out that you were single," he informed her. "I want you all to myself, if you'll have me," he explained, biting his lip and looking quite anxious, as though it were possible Hermione might say no.
"Absolutely," Hermione responded, unable to contain an ear to ear smile. Teeny little butterflies ran amok in her stomach as she leaned towards Draco to kiss him. Her eyes closed and she could feel him exhale softly before her lips made contact with his.
The doorbell rang just then, and Draco pulled away immediately almost as though he had been stung. Hermione tried to pull herself together as she headed for the door. Draco was right on her heels, putting a hand on the small of her back as she opened the solid oak front door.
"Hermione!" a chorus exclaimed from the front walk. Standing on the other side of the clear glass storm door were three kids Hermione's age she had never seen before in her life. Two of them had flaming red hair and freckles, and the third had unruly dark hair and brooding dark eyes hidden behind a pair of broken glasses.
"What are you doing here?" Draco hissed, pushing past Hermione to stand on the front stoop. The red haired boy's eyes narrowed and he glared at Draco.
"We're here to see our Hermione and make sure that she's not being mistreated by the likes of you, Malfoy," he spat these words as though they left a foul taste in his mouth. Hermione stepped outside, shivering in the cold, and took Draco's arm.
"Draco, do you know them?" she whispered, intending for only Draco to hear. She spoke too loudly.
"Oh, please, Hermione," the red haired boy said. "Don't do this, we flew all the way over here to see you," he pleaded, as though Hermione were only pretending not to know who they were.
"Go back inside, Hermione," Draco instructed, opening the storm door for her. She stepped inside, and Draco pulled the front door closed as well so Hermione could not see what was going on. Pushing her ear to the door, she tried to overhear anything that would tell her who those people were.
Outside, Draco started walking away from the house. He motioned for the others to follow him, which they did after a brief discussion about whether or not it was safe to trust him.
"Hermione is very, very sick right now," Draco said. "I don't know why you felt like you needed to come over here, but I can assure you that this didn't help anything. She's going to spend all her energy trying to remember who you are instead of getting better."
"What happened to her, Draco?" Ginny demanded. "Why can't she remember who we are?" Ginny had stepped forward so she was practically standing nose to nose with Draco. He took a step backwards and held his hands up to keep her from moving closer.
"She was attacked by her date to the Homecoming Dance," Draco said softly, a pained expression coming over his face briefly. "He used some pretty strong muggle chemicals on her, and it's a wonder that she can remember what she does."
"That was almost three months ago," Harry protested.
"Look, I know you don't trust me," Draco said, "But you have to. I don't know anyone else who can explain it to you, except maybe Dumbledore. But I suppose you're not trusting him either since you obviously had to come all the way out here," he sighed and sat down on the trunk of his car. "Can I be totally honest with you?"
"If you're actually going to be honest," Ginny retorted.
"If you don't want to hear it, I won't waste my breath," Draco snapped back. "Believe me or not, I want what's best for Hermione, and if you do too, you'll leave and wait until she comes back to Hogwarts to try talking to her again," he finished, jumping off the car. He began to walk back towards the house.
"Wait!" Harry called out. Draco paused. Harry ran to catch up with Draco. "I want to hear what you were going to say," Harry said. "I believe you'll be honest."
"That was a one-time offer, Potter," Draco grinned evily. "You can thank your little girlfriend for ruining it for you."
"Well, I still appreciate you talking to us. And thank you for taking care of Hermione that night," Harry said honestly. "We all thank you for that."
"Hermione means a lot to me," Draco said nonchalantly, shrugging it off. "See you at school," he said, heading back into the house. Harry watched the door close and tromped back through the snow to where Ginny and Ron were standing.
"Hermione means a lot to me?" Ginny repeated. "Oh, please. This smells incredibly foul," she said.
"I think he was being honest," Harry disagreed. "I really do. Or he would have just let Hermione get hurt that night."
"Well, you have to admit that this whole thing with her memory is incredibly far-fetched," Ron put in. "What sort of muggle chemicals could do that? Is it like a spell?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harry said warily. "I've heard of a condition people get after traumatic experiences, it's called amnesia. Maybe Hermione has that," he suggested. Ron and Ginny exchanged glances.
"Maybe," Ron mused. The three started walking down Hermione's street. "Did you see where Draco had his hand on Hermione when she answered the door?"
"That was nothing compared to where your hands were on Hermione," Harry laughed. Ron blushed and quickly scooped up a snowball to fling at Harry.
"What?" Ginny asked, laughing as Harry wiped the snow from his glasses.
"Nothing," Ron said, glaring at Harry. "Where did we leave our brooms?" he asked, looking around.
"Up there," Ginny said, pointing to a tree up the street. "Uh-oh," she said, squinting at the tree. "Does that cat look familiar to you?" she asked the boys.
Hermione sat in the Malfoy's basement hot tub between Draco and her mother. Mrs. Granger climbed out to help Narcissa get dinner ready, and Hermione leaned up against Draco. It was two days after Harry, Ginny, and Ron had made their surprise visit, and Hermione had not gotten the chance to ask Draco about it until that moment.
"Who were those people, Draco?" she asked him, as he gently ran his fingertips along her neck. He had been dreading this moment, unsure of exactly how to approach it. For some reason he wanted to break down and tell her the whole story: She was a witch, doing a project for a class at a special school for witchcraft and wizardry, or at least that is what everyone thought. But he also wanted to tell her the truth.
He wanted to tell her about his cousin and how she had set the project up on behalf of Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard of all time – or at least he would be soon. The real purpose of the project was to amass followers in other countries for the Dark Lord.
"Draco?" Hermione asked, sounding very sleepy all of a sudden. He looked down at her, resting peacefully in his arms. She yawned and rested her head back against his shoulder. "Draco, what are we having for dinner?" she asked him.
"Chicken in white wine sauce," he responded automatically, relieved that she seemed to have forgotten about her mysterious visitors for the time being. No, he would not try to explain it all to her, not tonight. He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, smelling the heavenly scent of her shampoo. Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to memorize that smell. "And for dessert," he whispered, shifting her weight to his right arm. He kissed her softly on the lips. "I think I'll have you," he finished, after breaking the kiss.
"But Suzanne made cheesecake," Hermione protested halfheartedly, a smile giving her real thoughts away. She kissed Draco again, but their kiss was interrupted by her yawning again.
"You may not make it to dinner, let alone dessert," Draco teased. He kissed her forehead and helped her out of the hot tub.
"I know you're going to laugh at me, but I'm really excited to go back to school tomorrow," Hermione said, wrapping up in a fluffy white towel. Draco smiled.
"I would be worried if you weren't excited," he informed her.
"Dinner is ready," Lucius Malfoy announced, coming down the stairs to where the hot tub was located. Draco was relieved to see the imposter back in his father's place. Almost every time he saw his father now there was some question in his mind as to whether it would be the real Lucius or not. Fortunately, the real Lucius had not made an appearance since he had come to collect Draco for Christmas.
Draco followed Hermione and his father upstairs to get dressed for dinner.