Chapter Forty-Two
Callidora Black was having some serious problems that week. The Head of the Department of Magical Defense for France was sending her angry owls demanding recompensation for some damage one of her newly-deceased relatives had caused to something-or-other of importance – at least, that's what Dora THOUGHT it was, because the man barely wrote any English at all. She'd received three letters of plea from relatives now locked up in Azkaban because of all that dreadful running-around as Death Eaters… they wanted her help in presenting their case to the Wizengamot. As if she believed they didn't deserve their fate.
Also among her concerns were things of varying degrees of urgency: an upcoming dinner party with the Prime Minister of Wizarding Armenia, her financial advisor's concerns regarding her fortune, a few things in her home needing appraisal to be sure they were proper wedding gifts for some upcoming family nuptuals… the wedding itself… and all the while, the stress of her estranged grand-daughter weighing on her proud shoulders.
It was a lot for those poor, old shoulders to handle, all that resting on them. And Dora was by no means a young woman anymore – but if there was one thing a true Black never did, was slouch in one's chair. Dora would remain proud-shouldered until she was put into her grave, as she'd been trained to do since early childhood… no matter what she was feeling on the inside.
Hermione constantly weighed heavily on her mind, no matter how busy she could make herself. Instead of trying to bury it, Dora welcomed it into the forefront of her mind, as if placing it there would vie everything else and conjure a solution.
In the short time Hermione had lived with her grandmother, there had been only time enough to have a single portrait painted. Dora had requested it be removed from the lower parlour and put into her study, where she spent much of her time.
Dora was still not sure if the move had been a good idea or not – now that she spent so much time with the painting, she began to feel worse and worse about herself. So bad, in fact, that George had selected a tonic for her to take in order to help perk her back up.
It wasn't that it was a bad painting – quite the contrary, it was a very good likeness. Too good. The sadness that seemed to emanate from the brown orbs that were Hermione's eyes made Dora's skin crawl. It was unnatural for such a young person to known that depth of sadness. Unnatural and wrong.
Not only that, but occasionally the moving portrait cast a doleful gaze in Dora's general direction, the eyes momentarily becoming accusing and betrayed. But mostly the eyes just averted their gaze. Whenever Dora came to close, the paint-Hermione would usually rise and exit the frame altogether.
Yes, Callidora Black was feeling like quite the monster.
"Madam?" George the Butler prompted. Dora had fallen into another of her glaze-over trances. "The tonic?"
Dora smiled despite herself, "Am I really that bad, George?"
"I'm afraid you're looking a bit raincloud-y today, madam, if I may be so forward."
"And we certainly don't need any more of this rain, do we, George?" Dora laughed. "My, it's getting to the point of ridiculousness! Still no flooding in the stable area?"
"None, madam."
"Wonderful… no, I don't think I'll be needing the tonic, George. Just my thoughts and I having a struggle."
Dora saw George's eyes flicker to the portrait of Hermione, which was plaintively gazing at the corner of the room, as if it was the cause of all her despair. "Should I remove the painting, madam?"
Callidora started at this suggestion, "Of my dearest granddaughter? Oh, certainly not, George! It is a reminder to this old lady how much damage she is still capable of!"
"Madam Black was only acting upon what she thought was best," George said sagely, re-corking the tonic he'd brought along and making it disappear with his wand, "as she has always done."
"You're too kind, George, as always."
George knew when he was being dismissed. He bowed and disapparated with a quiet popping sound.
After a long silence, Dora rose from her desk and approached the portrait of Hermione, "What I thought was best, yes." The portrait-Hermione rose from her seat and disappeared though the side of the frame, head down to avoid eye contact. "But best for who? Not for her. She was broken when I got her and I managed to destroy many of the pieces still in-tact."
Callidora Black did not cry – she hadn't for decades.
"You're a silly, old woman, Callidora Black," she told herself, shaking her head, "silly and cracked. You killed your own granddaughter."
.
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Their visit to Adrian at a close, Hermione and Draco Floo'd back to the Manor, then back to Hogwarts, appearing in an empty classroom. To the surprise of both, they were met by a very stern Headmistress McGonagoll.
"Ah, there you both are," she began, looking very harried by their disappearance. "I've been waiting nearly an hour."
Hermione shot a glance at Draco to discern that he too, had no idea someone had been waiting for them, then shot her eyes to her feet. "I'm sorry we were out of bed, professor. It won't happen again."
McGonagoll's expression softened as she gazed at one of her favorite students. "Miss Gr- Mrs. Malfoy, I assure you I am not here to punish you." (Hermione's and Draco's faces both reddened at the use of Hermione's married name). "But I also can't have you Floo'ing off whenever you like. There are barriers around the school to alert me when such things occur, and which sets up defenses that make it difficult to get much done."
"But there's nothing in Hogwarts, A History of…" Hermione began.
"An outdated source, to be sure, and something that should be remedied," McGonagoll observed. Hermione closed her mouth. "However, in light of the circumstances, I have done some looking into what Hogwarts has traditionally done for students who have been married before they left school. It has not happened recently, but in the past, Hogwarts has given married couples their own living quarters in order to ensure them some privacy…"
"Professor, we don't need…!"
"Please don't interrupt me, Mr. Malfoy, kindly. Whether you use them or not, there is a private area I will now introduce you to, while you are within the castle walls. Please follow me."
Hermione was the darkest shade of crimson she could imagine ever being before simply dropping to the ground in a dead faint from heat exhaustion. It was bad enough living at Draco's new Manor with him, but within Hogwarts itself! It was with extreme embarrassment that the small procession continued.
Finally, McGonagoll stopped in front of a supremely unremarkable wooden door Hermione had never noticed before. It was along the same third-floor corridor in which the room containing Fluffy the Three-Headed Dog was in their first year.
"Here we are," the Headmistress said, gesturing to the door. "It has a password – 'perfero' – which either of you may change at any time, simply by speaking the new password and your intentions to change it, at the door."
Upon McGonagoll's utterance of the word, the door made a noise as if it'd unlocked and swung open noiselessly. Hermione peered in; Draco feigned disinterest – the whole thing was really more embarrassing than it was worth.
"I shall leave you to explore. Your things and personal possessions have been moved here."
"But, professor…!"
"I can't have the both of you leaving the castle whenever you chose through any fireplace, to be together," McGonagoll reminded them. "This room was built in the 1600s for students in your situation, and I believe it will do the both of you some good to act the part of the married couple." Draco opened his mouth to say something, "Although, per your request, I will continue to say nothing." Draco closed his mouth. "I must now bid you good evening, Malfoys."
Even after McGonagoll had departed, Draco and Hermione merely stood in front of the open door silently. Finally, Draco broke the silence, "Bonkers, this. As if this is what either of us wanted!"
"Well," Hermione ventured, "I suppose McGonagoll must think we leave the castle to… well, you know…" Had it been possible, Hermione would have grown redder.
"I suppose you're right," Draco answered quickly, his pale face pink in the cheeks. "Care to go inside?"
The two stepped into the room cautiously, taking in their knew home within the castle.
.
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Author's Note: First of all, I must apologize for taking about a year, give or take, to update this. That is a LONG time to wait for an update. My reasoning - and yes, I have one - was that I'd written myself into a hole I could never get out of with this. I was concerned I was following Hermione and Draco's characters TOO closely and that no romance could ever possibly come of this. I was convinced of this for about a year, until just yesterday I thought back on it all, and had an epiphany. A little late, perhaps, but nonetheless... the story can and will go on!
Anyway, to business.
Thank you to gitgit, dg17, InvisibleLilacNights, xshaiyaxstar, CountingSheep123, Professor Rose, ebbe04, martshi3, sw5678, '2J0annA2', sandrawoepie and luvlybubbles for the reviews. I still love reviews!
I also feel especially rotten, since many of you included in your reviews how excited you were for an update. I will now go pen (er, type...) the next part of a chapter so I can update quickly.
P.S. I know the room bit is a bit cliche'... but you will see why it is necessary!