The Family Name: Year Four

By Elbereth in April

Chapter 12

Hermione was due to arrive at 8:00 on the dot, just as the doors opened. It was five til.

The minutes ticked away in gossip.

And then Hermione was tapping him on the shoulder. He turned, and stared. She looked lovely. Her hair was pulled into a twist at the back of her head. She had on fitted, shimmery periwinkle robes. She was smiling at him. Draco felt rather dazzled.

"Hi, Draco."

"Wow. Um, hi, I mean hi."

Now her smile turned mischievous. "Thanks. You look good, too."

Which, of course, was when his friends got it.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Blaise began, expression clearly one of disbelief, "but is Granger your unnamed date to the Ball?"

Draco produced his best smirk. "Yes. Hermione graciously consented to attend with me."

'Unbelievable—Granger is enjoying this, too,' Draco realized as she sidled a bit closer and smiled a bit wider.

Eva and Pansy both made little moue's of disgust.

Weasley-girl stepped forward, gushing, "Oh, Hermione, you look so pretty!"

"Quite a change," Marie muttered, just audible enough.

Draco was frowning. "You know," he said, "you all are pretty prejudiced."

All eyes swiveled to him, mouths dropping.

The Hall doors opened. The crowd around them started forward, except for a few die-hard spectators. Potter was swept inside with the Champions, but here came the Weasley clan again. Draco's smirk returned with them.

Ron simply stood in front of Hermione for a moment, looking puzzled. "Hermione? What are you doing?"

"I'm talking to Draco," she replied pleasantly.

"Did—did you just—"

"—call him Draco?"

"Well, I wouldn't be attending the dance with someone I wasn't on a first-name basis with, now would I?"

"No." Ron actually looked as if he was in pain, or perhaps simply nauseous. "No, you are not going on a date with Malfoy."

"We're starting over on a clean slate," Hermione said. "All past sins forgiven…"

"No! There is no way you could forgive Malfoy for all he's done to us, to you! He's the enemy! And you're—fraternizing with him!"

"Best watch your blood pressure there, Weasley," Draco drawled.

"Hermione, he's just using you to get back at me and Harry!"

"Oh, because that's the only reason anyone would want to date me, is that it?" Hermione snapped, frowning darkly.

"Actually, Hermione has become quite an attractive young woman," Draco said cheerfully. "Got her teeth shrunk at the beginning of the year, got her hair fixed up—look at her. Isn't she pretty?"

Hermione blushed. So did Ron, quite deeply.

"Definitely a sight—"

"—for sore eyes," the twins broke in, grinning.

"Thank you," Hermione mumbled. The Slytherins rolled their eyes and muttered amongst themselves.

"That's—that's not the point!" Ron spluttered. "It wasn't what I meant."

"Come on, Ron, you only caught onto the fact that I'm a girl a few days ago."

Draco gave her a look. "What?"

"He asked her to the dance, because he was panicking that he didn't have a partner yet, and he suddenly realized Hermione was a potential candidate—except by then she'd already been asked twice," Ginny announced, still very irritated at her brother.

Ron looked mortified that she'd revealed he'd been unable to get a date. Draco looked positively gleeful. "No one willing to be seen with you, eh Weasley?"

"Shut up!"

"Who else asked you?" Fred asked.

"Viktor Krum."

Again Ron exploded. "What? He's from Durmstrang!"

"Still a better choice than a Malfoy, though," George said.

"That's for Hermione to decide," Malfoy answered with a virtuous expression on his face.

"Come away, Hermione," Ron insisted, pulling on her arm.

"Ron!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Don't make a scene, Ronniekins," Fred chided.

"You can't make her," George nodded, shifting towards his younger brother.

"Let go of me, Ron."

"Take your hands off her," Draco snarled, grabbing the back of Ron's robes at the neck and yanking.

Ron let go, stumbling back and choking slightly.

"Oh good grief, didn't we just have a scene like this?" Ginny growled.

"Indeed." Hermione put her hands on her hips. "It's not your call who I date, Ron, and I say Draco has been behaving decently lately, we've declared a truce, and I think we can have an enjoyable time tonight. Now get out of the way so we can go watch Harry start the dancing."

"Yes, watching Potter dance should be entertaining."

"You still have areas where you definitely backslide, Draco." Hermione turned to look at him standing beside her. "I think we should agree not to discuss Harry tonight."

"Fine, I'll just mock him to his face."

Despite herself, Hermione smiled.

"See, Slytherins are a bad influence on you," Ron grumbled, still worked up but remembering he had been unable to cross Hermione the last time he confronted one of Salazar's House.

It was a disturbing trend. He looked at her, half-glare, half-entreaty. She just looked back at him, rather condescendingly, he thought.

Ron threw up his hands. "Whatever, then. I wash my hands of this whole affair. Don't say I didn't warn you." He stormed off.

"Ron!" Brown ran after, catching up at the doors and scolding him.

The twins looked at each other, then at Hermione. "Just be careful," George told her.

"And have fun." Fred grinned. Then the two walked off, picking up their girls on the way.

"Can we finally go in?" Marie asked impatiently.

Draco grinned lazily, eyes sparkling. "Ladies." He waved his hand toward the doors. "After you."

They entered the Hall in a group. "Oh, lovely!" Ginny smiled, clapping her hands together. The walls were covered with glittering frost, with garlands of ivy and mistletoe crisscrossing most of the starry black ceiling. Dozens of small lantern-lit tables were spread around the floor. The group separated then—Draco and Greg weren't going to subject their dates to sitting with all Slytherins (and they certainly weren't sitting with Gryffindors), so the four of them sat together.

First came the feast. They chattered as they ate, much of the talk still centering around the dance, the band, who came with who, who was wearing what, etc.

After the food, the dancing started. The Champions led, as ordered. "Notice Patil is leading," Draco pointed out to Greg.

"He's not doing so bad," Ginny said.

"He hasn't tripped over his own feet, but that's as much as I can say for him," Draco retorted.

After a suitable interval, the girls all dragged their partners onto the floor to dance, as well. Draco and the other wealthy, old name Slytherins all danced elegantly, having learned at a very young age.

This was Hermione and Draco's first chance to talk privately. "Are you having fun, Granger? Hermione?"

"Believe it or not, I am." She smiled at him.

"Believe it or not, I'm glad. Weird, isn't it?"

"I'll say. I wonder if Ron is going to hover over Ginny all night." She indicated where Weasley and his date danced just a couple feet from Ginny and Greg, Ron glaring at them the whole time.

"I imagine she'll put a stop to it soon enough. She can handle herself, I've discovered."

Hermione gave him a knowing look. "You like her."

Draco spluttered a bit. "I don't know what you mean."

Her smile turned amused. "You like her but you let Goyle have her. And that, Draco Malfoy, is how I knew you had changed. That's why I knew I could go to a dance with you and actually have a good time."

Draco was unable to prevent himself from blushing. "I don't—I—you—"

"Denial won't work."

Draco sighed. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"No. I promise." She patted him with one of the hands on his shoulders.

Stormbrew and his date, a pretty Sixth Year Gryffindor, danced past them. He, too, kept glancing disapprovingly at Ginny ever so often. And just past him was Krum, with Anya, gazing longingly at Hermione.

"Who's Stormbrew with? I'm not sure of her name."

Hermione looked over. "Oh, that's Rhiannon Selwynn. She's quiet. I don't know much about her. He never asked Ginny to the dance, in case you're wondering."

"He didn't? That's—I'm really surprised."

"She wasn't too disappointed."

Draco felt eyes on his back and turned them. Potter was sitting at a table, scowling at him. Ron joined him as he watched, propelled by George. The two younger boys' dates were nowhere to be seen. Draco smirked.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Butler was about to do the unthinkable. But it had been building all of the holidays, and he could contain himself no longer. He confronted Artemis Sr. in his study.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you are treating Artemis this way."

Sr. regarded him with concern. "What do you mean, Butler?"

"He's convinced that you're ashamed of him, that you may not even love him anymore…"

Sr.'s eyes went wide. "That's not true! How could he think that? How can you tell he thinks that?"

"To me, sir, it's obvious. As for why—it's because of how you feel about wizards and magic."

"How I—how do I feel—?"

"You despise them. Or so it would seem. Certainly, Artemis and I have both picked up on it."

"But, no, I—I don't…" Sr. trailed off, thinking. "I never meant to let them taint my feelings."

"Sir?"

Sr. looked Butler in the eye. "My father was happy just to know about the world of magic, but my mother was very bitter because she could do no magic herself. And her mother, who was a witch, looked down on her because she was a Squib. Both my parents were Squibs."

"I know, sir. The Butlers have been with the Fowls for generations. However, Artemis doesn't know. He never even met his great-grandmother."

"I have to rectify this."

"Yes. But sir? It won't work unless you really are happy to have a wizard for a son."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The Ball was winding down by the time Potter got around to confronting him. He waited until Hermione had reluctantly agreed to a dance with Krum and Draco was sitting at a table with Pansy, whose date was getting them punch.

"What are you doing here with Hermione, Malfoy?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Dancing, mostly."

"That's not what I meant. What are you getting out of it?"

"The pleasure of her company."

Pansy snickered. Potter threw a glare at her, then went back to glaring at Malfoy. "You don't like each other."

"You should keep up to date on your mates, Potter. Things have changed. We're friends now."

Pansy sighed. Draco stepped on her foot.

"How could she possibly be friends with you? You've called her a mudblood! And your feelings haven't changed."

"Shows how much you know. As it so happens, I've had an epiphany. I've broken with my father's way of thinking."

Pansy's eyes widened in alarm. "Draco, you shouldn't say that."

Potter was gaping. "For real? But—you're still as much of a prat as ever."

"Well, to you, yeah. I don't like you."

Pansy smiled again, but she still seemed a bit worried.

"This is surreal," Potter muttered, pulling at the collar on his robes. "Look, Malfoy," focusing back on the blonde boy, "I don't like you either, but I have this funny feeling you're telling the truth. So then—you're being nice to Hermione, right? I don't have to lure you into the garden and hex you?"

Draco laughed. "Like you could. But no, there's no need for you to defend her honor. Anyway, I believe she's proved she can handle herself."

Potter nodded slowly. "All right."

"That's it? You're being all understanding," Pansy said in surprise.

"Maybe it's Christmas spirit," Potter responded.

Pansy snorted. "Gryffindors."

"I think I'll leave while the conversation's still civilized," Potter said, and with a last nod at Malfoy, he walked away.

"Huh. That was the politest conversation I think we've ever had," Draco mused.

"Draco, you should be careful of what you say about your father."

Draco focused back on Pansy. "It doesn't matter."

"But, Draco…"

"Really, I don't care anymore." He changed the subject. "Noticed how Potter and Weasley's dates have both left them for Beaubaxtons boys?"

She dimpled. "Yes."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Artemis Sr. found his son in his own study, on the internet. "Can we talk?"

"Of course." He shifted two chairs next to each other and they sat.

"I have to apologize. I've been treating you shabbily without even realizing it."

Artemis's eyes widened.

Sr. reached out and placed his hand on his son's shoulder, looking into his eyes. "Artemis, I love you, son. I'm very proud of you. I've never not been. I've given you the impression that I dislike wizards and it's just not true."

Artemis swallowed hard. "But—but it is true. You don't—"

"No. I've been acting the way my parents did about magic without thinking about it, but it's not the way I feel."

"Your parents?"

"They were Squibs. Your great-grandmother was a witch, and she was very bitter because your grandmother was not. That made her feel resentful in turn."

Artemis struggled to get his mind around this. "You've always known about magic?"

"Yes. I never mentioned it because I never realized you were a wizard yourself. I was raised to treat the idea of magic with contempt, but Artemis I don't feel that way, honestly. I'm excited about all of your talents and achievements, magic included." He watched his son's reaction anxiously.

Artemis seemed to be having trouble believing him yet. "I've been—I'm working on alchemy," he confessed suddenly and without prior intent. "I thought if I could magically create gold, then, then you'd… be happy with me again."

"Oh, Artemis, how I've failed you." Sr.'s eyes looked very sad.

"Father, no!"

"Yes. I gave you this obsession with gold, this idea that it was more important than anything—even you. But it's not. Family is the most important thing to me, Arty—you and your mother. I love you," he repeated, "and I'm proud of you. You don't need to make gold. If you never made a cent again—if you lost a fortune in gold—I would still love you." He smiled tenderly.

"I love you, too," Artemis answered automatically, mind working 1.6 kilometers a minute. And he was thinking, 'Is it true? Can I trust in it?' and 'Why didn't I know we had wizards in our line?'

"Gold isn't all-important. Neither is power," Sr. pressed. "From now on I'll try to convince you that I mean it. I want to be the hero every father ought to be. I certainly want to be more available than I have in the past."

That Artemis understood. Fowl Sr. used to not have much time for anything but business. He had been around much more since his rescue, and Artemis had felt welcomed to be at his side, until he'd thought his father had disapproved of magic.

Could the rest of what he said be true, as well? What did he mean by the 'hero' bit?

"That's right," Sr. coaxed. "Accept it because it's the truth. I no longer care about gold. Just you."

It burst over him like a balloon filled with hot water, with that same sort of gushing feeling. His father loved him. He was proud of him. Gold wasn't all-important.

His eyes filled with tears. The hug, when it came, was welcome, expected, and lasted a long time.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

A/N: Not too sappy, I hope. A few lines taken from Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code.