CHAPTER FIVE

'Now you see' said the turtle, drifting back into the pond, 'why it is useless to cry. Your tears do not wash away your sorrows. They feed someone else's joy. And that is why you must learn to swallow your own tears.'
~Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club~

The owl came a week later. Hermione had been waiting for it since she agreed to do the show and got a confirmation letter telling her she would be matched with a pure-blood family shortly. And now it looked like that day had finally come. It was waiting in her room when she got home, exhausted from a day of work. Thankfully, Joy finally decided it was hot enough, so the air condition was now on at her job.

That didn't matter now. She dropped her bag and ran over, grabbing the letter. Reading the return address on the envelope just to be sure, her heart leapt at the confirmation it was indeed from the Ministry. She ripped it open, pulling the piece of parchment out. The envelope fluttered to the floor and Crookshanks sat down on top of it.

Dear Ms. Granger,

We are so pleased once again that you have confirmed your spot on The Muggle-Pureblood Relations Program. It is our honour to inform you that the pure-blood family you will be spending time with is the Malfoys.

She stopped reading, feeling her way back until she landed on her bed. It felt like her heart had stopped beating and her head was spinning. Was there a ringing in her ears? What was going on? Of all the pure-bloods to be matched with- could she still withdraw from the show?

THE MALFOYS? She felt like she was going to be sick. How could this have happened? It wasn't just because of her feud with Draco Malfoy- it was more than a petty schoolgirl fight. The Malfoys had tortured her. Okay- Bellatrix Lestrange had, but she was related to the Malfoys and it had happened in their house and they hadn't done anything to help her. The Malfoys were the most prejudiced family in all of the United Kingdom. In all of the world, probably.

Why had they even agreed to this show, in the first place? Surely they had no interest in fixing anything. They probably were plotting away to keep Voldemort's "noble" quest going.

She looked back at the letter.

Please report to the Ministry two weeks from today at two o'clock for a meeting with the participants of the show and the creators. There will be contracts and lawyers present. If you have any questions please feel free to owl me anytime.

Sincerely,

Marty Biggs

Department of Transportation

The Muggle-Pureblood Relations Program creator

No, no, no. This couldn't be the end. There had to be a way to change her family or drop out all together. She couldn't do it. The Malfoys made her feel sick. She felt bile in her throat- that wasn't natural. They made her skin crawl and the temperature in the room drop ten degrees.

She forgot the pity she had felt for them at the end of the war. The way they had huddled together and sobbed. She thought they had gone through a change of heart, a conversion, seen the error of their ways- whatever you wanted to call it. And then rumours came out that Lucius Malfoy had tried to buy his way out of Azkaban and she realised they hadn't changed at all.

"Honey, do you want to go out to dinner tonight?" She heard her mum say, from behind her closed door. She couldn't say anything, all her intelligence had vanished. She'd been reduced to a blubbering fish. The Malfoys had done that to her. They had taken away all her confidence in a flash. She was back in the Manor, Bellatrix standing over her, screaming, "Crucio!" over and over again, occasionally throwing in, "Filthy Mudblood! What else did you take? CRUCIO!"

'Crucio' was pretty much the most important word. It may have been the only word Bellatrix liked saying.

Her whole body had been on fire. It was pain she had never experienced before. It felt like it would never end. She couldn't remember anything: who she was, why this was happening, what she had done... Her bones felt too big for her body, she was shaking, she had felt sick. She was convinced she would just pass out any moment. There were no physical reminders of that night, but she didn't think she would ever forget.

"Hermione, I asked you-" her mum stopped, her hand on the doorknob as she saw her daughter still as a statue on the bed. "Dear? What's wrong?" She came forward, sitting on her child's bed. Hermione didn't say anything, and so, like a worried mother, she reached over and ran her hand through her daughter's silky hair and read the letter in her hand.

She gasped.

The sound must have brought Hermione back to earth, because she turned to her mum and cried into her chest.

"You got Malfoy?" Ron shrieked, some time later, "We got Jenna Boyle! WHO in Merlin's pants, is JENNA BOYLE? Do you know a Jenna Boyle? I don't know a Jenna Boyle!"

"Ron," Harry muttered, trying to get Hermione to drink her tea, "I think Hermione's situation bares a little more importance."

Hermione had shown up at their flat, her face white as a ghost, her eyes red. She hadn't said a word, she just shoved a letter in Harry's chest. He had read it, confused and worried at her apparent breakdown. Seeing Malfoy's name made his mouth drop and he pulled Hermione into a hug as she let out another heart wrenching sob and collapsed against him. He had brought her to the couch, yelling for Ron who was steaming in his room with his own letter from the Ministry.

Apparently, Jenna Boyle was a rubbish name.

Harry had made her a cup of tea, while Ron came and sat with her, holding her in his arms and rubbing her back. He had been furious when he found out she'd be spending all her time with the Malfoys, but after awhile he got a little tired of her crying. Apparently, Ginny, the only experience he had with girls (besides Lavender), had never cried this much and he wasn't sure what to do.

Harry kept coaxing her to drink, eventually she did. The liquid trickled down, it didn't warm her since it had cooled significantly in her fit. She wiped her eyes and conjured a tissue, not bothering to reheat her drink.

"What do I do?" She asked, her voice hoarse, and it came out like a croak. She drank some more.

Ron said, "It's pretty obvious, isn't it? You quit."

She looked at Harry, unsure what she wanted to hear. She did want to quit. Her whole body was telling her to run far away, to not spare a glance back. But a small part of her- the fighter part, the part that had probably gotten her sorted into Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw- told her to do it anyway. To not give into fear and show them she was stronger, and confident, and unafraid of them. Besides, the Ministry would be watching, she would never be alone with them. They couldn't hurt her anymore.

Ron noticed she wasn't agreeing with him. "Hermione-" his mouth dropped, "Wha-what? Are you- do you really want to keep going with this? Are you- Merlin, are you bonkers?"

She bit her lip and stared at Harry. "You know I was against this from the start," He said, his eyebrow raised. She nodded, a pit in her stomach forming. He was going to tell her to quit too. Her mother had told her the same thing. She knew the name- she knew what they had done to her. She didn't want her anywhere near them for whatever reason. Why would Harry tell her anything different? He hated the Malfoys just as much as anyone. Maybe more.

"When I went to give myself over to Voldemort... in the Forbidden Forest..." He started, looking down at the cushion on the couch. She narrowed her eyes in confusion- he was telling a story? Couldn't he just get to the point already and tell her to quit? "Voldemort used the Killing Curse and we both fell. When I came to..." He paused, grappling for words.

Hermione stared at him, transfixed. He had never told them about that night. He had refused to tell her what had gone on between them. Ron sat down on the beanbag, equally shocked.

"When I came to," He said again, his voice less shaky, "Narcissa Malfoy was supposed to tell Voldemort if I was alive or dead. She asked me if Draco was alive and I told her he was. And she told Voldemort I was dead." He looked up at their shocked faces and added, "Honest."

Narcissa had done that. And Draco hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore, according to Harry, also. Could it be the Malfoys weren't all bad? She looked at Harry and then at Ron, before turning back to Harry, saying, "So you want me to do it."

He met her eyes, and gave her one firm nod.

Ron exploded, "Mate, what are you talking about? This is complete bullshit! She can't- and you-!" He trailed off, looking between them, before storming back into his room.

Hermione sighed. "I'm doing it."

Two weeks later, it was time for her meeting. Her mum had insisted she bring her own lawyer and one of her friends for back up. Thankfully, Harry had a lawyer from when when he was making sure the landlord didn't rip him off, and was more than willing to tag along.

They separated at the loo. Hermione flinched, stepping into the toilet, and flushing as quickly as she could. They found each other inside quickly and made their way to the conference room. She was wearing a pencil skirt and a pink, flowy blouse she'd found in a muggle store. She looked good, in an intelligent, business woman kind of way. She straightened her hair that morning and it went just passed her shoulders. Her peep toes clicked as they hit the floor and Hermione felt her stomach churn as the door came into view.

She was going to come face to face with the Malfoys.

Harry opened the door for her, his eyes narrowing immediately. She knew they were there. His look spoke volumes more than his words ever could in that moment. She took a deep breath and then stepped in.

There they were. All three of them, dressed in black, sitting at the head of the table. Lucius' hair was pin straight and shiny, his face tight and his cane digging into the floor. Narcissa had her hair pinned back in a tight bun- to be honest, it looked like her face hurt, a lot. Draco's hair was gelled back, his face set, but he looked up as soon as she walked in.

His eyes were on her and she refused to look away, but the intensity of his gaze shocked her. The last time she saw him, he'd looked lonely- standing by himself at graduation. Now he looked- well... wild, unpredictable. His black dress shirt was buttoned to the top, washing out his already pale complexion. She felt self conscious as his eyes visibly went down her figure and back up. His grey eyes bore into her own once he'd finished his assessment and she glared at him. He had just checked her out and didn't even seemed ashamed at being caught.

Harry led her over to a spot by the window and they sat down. She felt like she was being watched. She looked over at the Malfoys as soon as she sat down and saw all three of them were eyeing her.

Harry turned to her, saying, "Good?"

"Yeah," She breathed, settling herself into the seat, "I'm good."

She felt confident in her outfit and sat up straight, proud of herself. "Ron should be here soon, yeah?" She added, trying to make conversation.

There was obvious tension in the room. Hermione glanced around, taking in who else was there. There were fraternal twins sitting by themselves across from them and they all smiled nervously at each other. The Greengrass family had also arrived, sitting across from the Malfoys at the other head, their two daughters on either side.

She looked at her watch. Gradually, the room filled up. Soon enough the Weasleys- Molly, Arthur, Percy, George, and Ron- arrived. They sat next to Hermione and Harry, greeting them all.

"Harry! Hermione!" George proclaimed loudly, giving them a hug at the same time. "Harry, do you remember when we picked you up for the World Cup years ago and we made your lumpy cousin's tongue swell with some candy?"

"Yes," Harry grinned. He'd never forget that day.

George turned to Hermione, "I was planning something for snake eyes, over there," He nodded towards the Malfoys with a charming smile, "but Mum searched me before we left. So, alas, I cannot defend your honour."

Hermione laughed and gave George a playful shove. Ron came up to her then, and said, "If anyone is going to be defending her honour, it's me."

She rolled her eyes, but nevertheless put her hands on either side of his face as he leaned in for a kiss. When they pulled away, she felt his hand slip under her blouse as he felt her wrist for his bracelet. He found it instantly, and the look he gave her nearly made her melt right there.

More people showed up. A pure-blood family from America also arrived followed by a lonesome girl, who had to be a muggle born. They were missing one more person to make it an even eight. Finally he showed up, he looked to be in his thirties, but he arrived with Wilson Betemit and a lanky, acne covered boy.

Hermione glanced at Harry, who shrugged back at her. The first thing Wilson said was, "Anyone not doing the show, must leave now. There are some refreshments waiting outside. The whole meeting should last about an hour, so if you'd like to leave and come back, you may, just make sure you get stamped before you leave."

Harry and a few other people stood up.

When they were gone, Wilson addressed them all. Ron put his hand on her knee under the table, and it comforted her, especially since she thought she could still feel Draco Malfoy's gaze on her.

"Good morning to all of you. I'm so pleased you've all agreed to do this show." There were a few coughs from some of the pure-bloods in the room and Hermione wondered what that meant. Wilson shot them all a look and went on, "This is an important step forward in mending a very broken part of our society." His speech went on like that and after awhile; Hermione felt the urge to zone out. Finally he handed it over to Marty Biggs, who was apparently the mastermind behind this whole shebang.

Marty was wearing a bow tie, not that it mattered to her, but she noticed it because it wasn't something she saw so much anymore. She grinned to herself as Marty cleared his throat in apparent discomfort. His voice shook as he began, "W-we st-start filming ne-nex-t-t week. We ask that y-you have at le-least one m-meal together every we-week."

Wilson stood up, taking over from Marty. "Have fun together, take whoever you're with out- things you like to do when you have free time. Each week we'll assign one of you the job of planning your activities, week one will go to the muggle borns. Now, lets break up into your groups."

Hermione looked at Ron, sighing. It was time to go talk to the Malfoys. Ron kissed her forehead, glaring harshly over at the pale snakes as he did so.

"Be nice to Jenna Boyle," She told him.

"Don't be nice to The Amazing Bouncing Ferret," Ron muttered.

It became obvious the Malfoys weren't moving from their spot, so she gathered up her courage and dignity, walking over to them. She had no idea what she was going to say, she hoped something magical would come to her in the moment. Shockingly, Narcissa was no longer looking like her tight bun was pinching her face. She had a tentative smile on her lips- or who knew, maybe it was her hair, after all.

Either way, it gave Hermione the strength to grin. "Hello," She said, taking the seat next to Draco. She smoothed her skirt, looking away for a precious moment.

Lucius' nose was upturned, like he smelled something foul. She knew it wasn't her since she had used her cocoa butter lotion after her shower that morning, no matter what Lucius wanted to say. Draco didn't say anything and he had finally dropped his intense gaze. It was Narcissa that broke the tension by saying, "Hello, Hermione."

"Mrs. Malfoy," She greeted, determined to be the epitome of politeness. "How are you?"

Narcissa nodded, tight lipped. For all her effort at being civil, it was obvious Narcissa wasn't too sure how to proceed, either. "What do you have planned for us this week?"

She hadn't really thought of anything, to be honest, but she wasn't about to tell them all that. She had to come up with something quickly. "How about The British Museum?" She chastised herself right away- she should have been commanding. We are going to the British Museum. But, no, she told herself. She wasn't like them. Kill 'em with kindness, she'd been taught. She may be borrowing some confidence that wasn't her own, but she would keep everything else.

Narcissa seemed nervous. "Will there be... muggles there?"

"Probably," Hermione grinned. She glanced at Draco, who seem positively revolted at being around muggles. Or maybe it was the idea of being in a place as classy and intellectual as a museum that had off put him. Either way, he looked ready to attack someone.

She risked a glance at Lucius. His hand was gripping the top of his cane so hard, he could have broken a wine glass with his death grip. She looked away, deciding to focus on Narcissa. It wasn't going as bad as it could have. At least Narcissa was trying- unlike some people.

"What's there to see?" Narcissa asked, making light conversation. But maybe she was trying to gauge what to expect.

She was ashamed to admit how surprised she was by Narcissa's... it wasn't friendliness, but she wasn't completely shutting her out. She glanced over at Ron and the rest of the Weasley clan to see how they were making out with Jenna. Jenna Boyle, according to Ron, would probably be covered in boils like her name suggested. As Hermione found out, she was actually very pretty. She had striking dirty blonde hair and her face was dusted in freckles. It didn't look like they were having a bad time at all.

Looking back at Narcissa, Hermione answered, "There's lots of stuff. I think there's a new exhibit about Shakespeare-" At their blank looks- mainly Narcissa, since she was the only one listening- she added, "The most famous writer in the whole world." It didn't seem to ring any bells, judging by Narcissa's face and Hermione felt her heart rate accelerating, "Plays, sonnets, he invented half of our language! 'Romeo and Juliet,' 'Hamlet,' ... does any of this ring a bell?"

Narcissa blushed and shook her head. Lucius glanced at his wife, and his face hardened at the pink taint on her cheeks. "Do not," He hissed, "feel inferior by this Mudblood's psycho babble about a dead writer."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Lucius and refused to let his words hurt her. She had been called a Mudblood all her life- mostly by the Malfoys. She knew the truth about who she was and she was proud of being a muggle born. Lucius and the rest of the pure-bloods could look down on her for all she cared, but she was a better person. She knew more than just magic- she knew science and literature. She could cook by herself and deviate from ingredients. She could change a lightbulb by herself. If something were to ever happen where she'd have to live without magic, she would be able to.

And Lucius Malfoy could never ever take that away from her.

"William Shakespeare," Hermione started, her voice hard, "is arguably the best writer that ever lived. And there is nothing wrong with learning about literature."

Lucius glared at her, crossing his arms, and mumbled like a child that had been told no cookies before dinner. Narcissa didn't say anything, although Hermione suspected she had more questions. She wished Narcissa would open up, and deny her husband for once. But it looked like she was shutting down. Hermione looked at Draco, hoping he might step up.

Sitting in his father's shadow, Draco didn't look like he'd be speaking up anytime soon- whether he was agreeing with his father or not.

A/N Hi guys! Everyone back to school. I'm a senior, WOO. haha So, yes, there are the Malfoys! I hope you're enjoying. Let me know what you think, reviews are appreciated. :D