Author's Note: This is an AU. Characters are a little out of character due to the plot. I probably will not be describing what happened to each, but show them through dialogue instead. I also like pizza, and popcorn.
Disclaimer: Don't own Potter's biography.
Your heart breaks hard
When you don't have a plastic heart — Just Desserts
The first few moments, he was sure he disgraced himself looking quite like a fish with his mouth opening and closing, wanting to say something but couldn't form words.
"Oh dear, he came home earlier than expected." Was what broke his thoughts and his gaze at this cloaked figure, whom he was pretty sure couldn't possibly be the woman proclaimed dead for years. He stormed into the room and yanked the hood when the woman tried to cover herself again. His glare met hers, his mother's voice vaguely being heard in the background.
"Mother," he began, his voice dangerous and low. "Who the hell is this person—"
"Let go of me." The woman commented, stepping back and forcibly removed his grip from the cloth wrapped around her. She crossed her arms, her glare elevating into a deadly one. They stared at each other for another stolen moment before turning to her mother. "Narcissa, I know this may sound rude but can I oblivi—"
"Merlin, Hermione!" his mother exclaimed in aghast.
Hermione? What a coincidence.
The Hermione woman had the gall to look ashamed for suggesting but never met his gaze again. The manner in which they so patiently talked was irritating, so he shot a sullen look at his mother who thankfully noticed.
To his surprise, Narcissa Malfoy was suddenly nervous before him with her fingers fiddling, fist clenching and unclenching. She opened her mouth at last, but then turned to the woman now standing next to her,
"On the second thought, I think obliviating him does sound easier."
His eyes widened, "Mother!" and the stranger openly laughed, probably both at her mother and his reaction.
"Oh relax Draco, you know I wouldn't do that to you." She smiled slyly and gestured at the seats behind them. "Shall we discuss this over—"
"No." he snarled, he had enough. "Tell me everything now, because I want to know who this person is, and exactly what, is she doing here." His index was fixed on the again-glaring woman.
A sigh.
"Let me answer this one." He gaze was intensely at the other then, waiting for her to continue. "I am Hermione Granger. We went to Hogwarts together and I was sorted into Gryffindor. I was friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley and loyally to them since first year. I helped destroy the most evil Wizard ever to try to take over the Wizarding World and if you still can't remember me, I was the person labeled by your lot as the bookworm and the Mud—"
"Hermione!" Narcissa hissed. "How many times do we need to talk about this? We do not hold the same—"
"—blood you always seem too keen to dehumanize."
"—beliefs like we used to! The Second Wizarding War—"
"I know." She was looking at his mother then, her face serious for a moment before it softened. "I know that Narcissa, and I'm sorry for saying that but I'm not so sure about your son. Before I accepted your offer, I knew the chances of running across him on the first few weeks are high and because we've talked about this, I know that he wouldn't tell anyone about my presence. But I won't tell him why I'm here, not just yet."
"Wait a minute," his eyes narrowed, "'First few weeks'? Just how long have you been staying here?" His attention was split between his mother and the…well, supposedly-Granger, who were shooting each other glances.
"Draco, dear…" his mother began, and it pissed him off.
"Mother, how. Long? Why haven't you tell me anything about this? And why the hell are you hiding this… this mud— this woman!" He shouted with his index finger trained on Granger. "You're supposed to be dead! You've been gone for four years! You can't just reappear and in my house and suddenly civil to my mother! Today is the gala in commemoration for the War do you not know? Your friends—"
"I know what's happening to my friends." She hissed back, voice dropping to a similar dangerous level. He had always noticed this about her, since he liked pissing her off. When she gets too angry she doesn't shout like Potter does or break things like Weasley tend to do. Her words will turn venomous, and will require your full attention; else you'd be having a hex being sent to your way.
But he wasn't afraid of her before and still not afraid of her now.
He laughed, such a bitter sound. "Really? Then you should've seen how up until present, Weaselette and her little family of Weasels find it within them to grieve for your disappearance and yet you're here, busy lollygagging—"
"Shut. The fuck. Up. Malfoy before I forget that you're Narcissa's son and hex the shit out of you!" She took a step forward, hand darting to her pocket but never taking out anything. Her face was burning red in anger, and by his Mother's disapproving frown, he must have nothing better than hers. "What I'm doing for years is something that has to do with only me. Harry and Ron and Ginny and the others had been through so much. I don't need them to be frustrated over my own business. Besides, I'm sure that if I come back and explain, they would understand!"
"Bollocks!" he fumed. "I've been working with your Potter and Weasley ever since I had the job at the ministry and you never had to hear them sound so pathetically mournful!"
She threw her hands up in a jeering manner, "Since when have you gone so soft, Malfoy? Look at you, calling them pathetic when you look as pathetic at them! I may have been traveling from a place to another but I've never been gone for a week in Wizarding England! I've always been here, in the shadows. I see them make faces when the prophet tries to get anything about me from them. I'm also dying to talk to them but not yet, not. Just. Yet."
They were glaring at each other eye to eye again, not wanting to look away and lose whatever game the other was playing.
Narcissa sighed at the two adults. She knew of course, that this would happen when the two meet. She had just not cared at the time when she made the offering. She squared her shoulders then, raising her chin at her son; the sign that she was now serious and not to be taken lightly. "Draco Malfoy. You will listen to what your Mother will have to say." He did turn his head to her, "I owe a Wizarding Life Debt to Miss Hermione Granger." She stopped and raised a hand to halt the other witch from protesting, knowing which information to give and which to hold. "Did you remember when I was gone for two weeks at Crete as my vacation leave was supposedly only one? I—"
"You almost died just two months ago and you didn't tell me?" he asked, voice laced with anger and betrayal. "And meanwhile she…she… that Mudblood—"
"This is why she never wanted to tell you, you dolt. She knew how badly you would've taken the news!" Granger exclaimed.
"And how would you have wanted me to react? My mother almost died. Died!" he resumed glaring at her, "But oh wait, what would you know? I bet you don't even have paren—"
"Expelliarmus! Levicorpus!" In a blink, both he and Granger were hoisted up to the air, ankles up. He turned sharply to also glare at his mother but surprised to find her sending him murderous glances. "What the bloody hell, Mother. You didn't need—"
"I have heard enough of your babbling, Draco. Silencio." He tried to protest but he lost his voice literally, and realized that the disarmed wand was not in fact his but belonging to the Mudblood. "And you are lucky I was just in time. She would've hexed you. Now," she paused, eyeing them both from below. "I will put you back down and we will drink tea like normal witches and wizard. Wiggy come on, it's okay." The cowering House-elf entered the scene then, placing a tray of teas and scones over the coffee table.
"Is… is there anything else the Mistress wants?" Wiggy asked nervously.
Narcissa offered the elf a calming small smile, "No Wiggy, you are dismissed. I will call you again if there is anything more I need."The House-elf smiled widely at this approval and bowed before apparating back to the kitchen. She turned to the two adults and casted the counter-jinx with a soft, "Liberacorpus."
The both of them had reached the floor foot-first thankfully, and Granger was not pleased at all. She straightened herself, hiding the Muggle clothes she wore underneath the traveling cloak before sitting down on the Slytherin-green chesterfield settee with silver linings. His mother occupied the loveseat diagonally to Granger, and still feeling a little angry at her, he sat at the settee opposite to Granger.
With another swish of Narcissa's wand, curtains were drawn and the Three-o'clock cloudy sunlight had peered into the sitting room of Malfoy Manor.
"That's better now, right? We should've done this from the start." He opened his mouth for a retort, but no voice escaped causing his mother to give a self satisfied smile at him. "I don't require that you like Hermione, Draco." She turned serious again, "But she had saved me back in Crete and I would very much like that you should at least tolerate each other and talk civilly. When she helped me, Hermione was—"
"Narcissa."
"Sorry." His mother smiled softly. He didn't miss the exchange. The way Granger's face contorted into miniature panic then settled into uncomfortable. "Well, what I'm trying to say is, you know that I'm a licensed Healer, right?"
His eyes widened at the confession. Licensed Healer!? Since when?!
"He doesn't know." Granger commented cheekily, biting down a strawberry scone. She seemed immune from his glare by now, because she stared right back with unflinching smugness.
"The Wizarding Life Debt exchange I offered her is her guaranteed privacy upon staying here, her own quarters, and that I will be required to heal her should she get wounded."
What?! Just what the bloody hell happened in Crete that made his Mother owe that much to a person of Muggle-blood? And for how long?
As if his mother heard his thoughts, she responded with a, "…for as long as she desires."
He lost his mind then and there.
She sighed as soon as her back settled at the soft cushion of the four-poster bed Narcissa Malfoy had provided her. The door opened no longer than five minutes later, with the Mistress of the Manor inviting herself to sit at the knole settee several spaces from the furniture she was currently lying on.
The Malfoy Matriach had offered to redecorate two weeks and six days ago, the first time she stepped into the place again since the incident with Bellatrix. She flat out refused, not wanting to be bothering the other occupants, mainly her son who was surely going to be suspicious if ever his mother suddenly decides to redecorate. A day later she was offered again, redecorating the room instead but due to exhaustion had ignored her and fell asleep within the next five minutes. These were the reasons why her room was untouched and similar themed as the rest of the guest rooms in the Manor. Spacious with Mantis green wallpapers, a darker shade for the ceiling, and white linings; her always-closed windows was fashioned with a flower patterned white lace. A rolltop desk was by the window opposite to her bed, now covered with properly organized parchments, except the recent ones she had acquired for the day. The floor was covered with fluffy cream textured plush and a one five by three feet pistachio green carpet near her bed. The settee was of a similar colour and she met Narcissa's worried frown when her gaze lingered there.
"Were you wounded?" was the first sentence coming out of her. Hermione accepted her wand that was disarmed earlier today at the confrontation with the other Malfoy.
"Yes." She had admitted, placing her hand on her lower right stomach. "But it's not too big. I've diagnosed myself to see if the spell had any lingering effects and found none. I used the basic healing spell you taught me to close up the wound, and hopefully it will heal on its own."
"Good, good." Narcissa trailed off, her eyes trained on her lap.
And she's not usually trailing off. Not unless something was troubling her, that is. "Is something wrong, Cissa?" she asked.
"Nothing, it's just… I suppose sometimes it's still quite unsettling, now that I had seen Draco's reaction to it."
She chuckled at the older woman's discomfort, "Have you forgotten that before we fell into this kind of comfort toward each other, you did nothing but to spite me? At Hogwarts, whenever our groups run across each other. Venice, March twenty-six of 2001. Next was Barcelona same year of June thirteen, then Krakow at Poland, December twenty—"
Narcissa gave a chagrined shrug, "I held a little different set of beliefs back then. After all, it is difficult to change overnight all the beliefs strewn on you since birth. And about those meetings in random places, I didn't even know the person I was conversing to would end up saving my life."
"Conversing? More like degrading."
The older witch huffed embarrassedly and this made her laugh a little more.
After that they were quiet for another stolen moment, before the older woman spoke again. "How long are you staying this time?"
She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, "Three days. A week, give or take. I'd probably stop by the Ministry for another crusade, and then continue my search." Hermione snuggled against the mattress before turning her head to offer the other witch a solemn smile,
"Don't worry, Cissa. I'm sure I'll find my Mum before it's too late."
Sooo... introduction is done. Time to shape the plot. Cream puff for a comment, yeah?