Disclaimer: I am not and therefore never will be J.K. Rowling; and as such the story I shall post consists of my own plot, and borrowed Characters from J.K.
Chapter 4: At home with the Malfoy's
"No, no, no… is… is it the Weasley girl?" Draco's eyes widened to the size of saucers, losing his eye brows in his hairline. He definitely didn't expect that reaction. "Molly and Arthur's daughter? Dear Merlin Draco, we can't have her here, your Father will not be impressed."
Draco's smile from the original aspersion turned sour, he hadn't thought how his father would react. If his mother thought his father's reaction would be bad to a pureblood, how was he going to react to a muggleborn?
While Draco was in the throes of his thoughts, his mother had seated herself trying to figure out what the hell was going on with her son. Draco's untimely chuckle caused her to look up at him as if he needed committing to Saint Mungo's mental health ward. "It's not the Weaslette, Mother." Narcissa's expression looked bemused. "Hand me downs from Saint Potter? His prize possession, no thank-you; and I am a Malfoy and as you know we don't take or have any connections to the Weasley's." Pausing he added mentally 'Bar the person upstairs'. "But I don't know how you'll react to this…" he paused again as if waiting for a drum roll, "Its Hermione Granger."
"The Head Girl?" Narcissa asked in a sweet voice, he nodded. That definitely wasn't the reaction he was expecting.
"The Mudblood?" A masculine voice shouted from the other entry to the lounge.
"Lucius, Father, Grandfather," the three other Malfoy's in the room shouted one after the other by pure instinct. 'Now that was a reaction like the one I was expecting' Draco thought.
"The Mudblood?" Lucius Malfoy, a haughty aristocratic man in his mid fifties asked again, his grey eyes boring into his son.
"Muggleborn Father, and the reason we are all here, so you don't get to say anything," Draco stated pointing a finger at his Father his eyes narrowing.
"I am not having that filthy Mudblood in my home."
Draco was about to retort but was beaten to it. "Lucius Malfoy you listen and you listen well. You will not and I repeat not harm that young women upstairs, or Merlin help me I will Divorce you!" Everyone in the room was taken back. Never in all of Draco's life had his Mother defended someone who wasn't a pureblood; well except Harry Potter, but that was to save his arse.
Lucius' anger simmered, his eyes widening. Never had he known his wife to get so passionate over something or someone that wasn't their son, so in the back of his mind his conscience was telling him he had crossed an invisible line.
"And another thing, I don't want you saying that word in my company, our son's or our grandson's company; do I make myself clear?" He conceited, bowing his head in acceptance to his wife. "Also regarding Hermione Granger, while she is a guest of Draco's here at the manor, you will bite your tongue of grievances and treat her like you would do any other guest; with the respect she has earned from our family." His eyes were still down, but a twinkle formed before he lifted his face up sneering at his wife.
"Exactly my family not me"
"Lucius, she has done more for us than either of mine or your families did." He was about to retort when Narcissa said "Lucius enough!" He muted and nodded as his wife stalked towards him. She took his his arm and led him out, leaving Draco and Scorpius.
"I didn't realise she had so much control over him," Scorpius noted laughing lightly.
"Uhm" was Draco's simple reply.
"Something wrong Father?"
"Draco shook his head "I don't want you saying that word Scorpius, ever." Scorpius nodded knowing his Father had a problem with the term 'Mudblood' and had on rare occasions berated himself for saying it in anger.
Changing the subject the young boy said; "I came to see if you and Mrs Weasley wanted to join me for the evening meal."
Standing Draco answered. "Yes we will I'll go and get her you go and get changed; you know how your Grand-mère is about attire and you have a bit of dirt on the placket," he said, signalled to the offending area near the buttons of his shirt. Scorpius left with a ghost of a smile on his face.
-HGDM-
Once up the top of the grand staircase, Miffy and Hermione took a right turn; the third door on the right that obviously looked out to the front garden of the manor had a sign on the door:
Scorpius' Room
Enter at your own risk
Hermione gave a slight giggle remembering when Rose had asked for a sign for privacy, insisting it was to be pink with unicorns guarding it. She shook her head, children. Miffy stopped outside the fourth room on the left.
The large door opened into a room that had Hermione wondering 'if this is a guest room, I wonder how big the other occupied rooms are.' Straight ahead of the door was a set of French doors leading onto a balcony area. To the left was a door that Hermione assumed led to an en-suite facility, and to the right of the doorway, tucked into the corner, was a desk.
Walking over to it, Hermione ran her hand over the oak finish looking at the view from the desk over the Manor gardens. She remembered the last time she had been here; unable to look at this view, and she felt saddened.
Forcing herself to continue looking around the room, she popped her head through the door to the en-suite. It was roughly double the size of her Head Girl suite at Hogwarts, that she shared with Draco, consisting of a shower cubicle, toilet a rather large mirror behind a semi-big washing basin, but most important was the Jacuzzi style bath tub, which could seat by the looks of things at least four people. Back in the main room, the central piece of furniture was the queen-size bed dressed with a 'red and gold bed spread?' reminding Hermione of the good old days at Hogwarts.
To the left of the bed; the right of the French doors, was an oak wardrobe. Opening the door, Hermione revealed masses of clothes, similar to those that she owned at her own home, without Ron's sweaty Quidditch equipment thrown in; and then there were extra's more like a countess or princess would wear, when going to banquets or going out for a fancy meal to a posh restaurant; there were reds, greens, blues, yellows, purples and a few blacks thrown into the mix. Flicking through the racks, she found an interesting black dress. Pulling it out, the door to the wardrobe closed and a full length mirror appeared on the other side. Placing the clothes hanger over her head, she admired her reflection; sighing 'Ron never buys me anything this elegant.' She took one last longing look in the mirror, stretching the dress so it was covering her sides, before she began taking it from around her neck.
"It looks good on you," Draco's voiced soothed from the doorway. She twirled towards him, dropping the dress so it was still around her neck; the garment flowing with her swing.
She smiled a timid tight lipped smile, before turning back to the mirror. In a few strides Draco was behind her, stopping her hand from taking the dress off. He gathered her hair so it was in a loose bun in his hand, holding it in such a way so that pieces draped around her heart shaped face, leaving her neck clear for all to see. "You should try it on properly… you would look beautiful."
She blushed; stuttering she said, "Draco I can't."
"Of course you can," he whispered into her ear, making her shiver; bringing back emotions she'd long since given up on. "It's your size and the wardrobe is charmed to make only things in your size and that would look good."
"I really can't," she reiterated, unaware his body had become flush against her back.
He sighed, "You really can see it as a present from me," he paused rubbing his slightly grizzled cheek along her neck and jaw line, "To you. A small thank you of gratification for all you've done for me." She tilted her head to the side unconsciously, giving Draco more access.
But as he pressed his lips to the pulse point of her neck, she cried out "Draco, please," immediately coming out of his partially drunken stupor, Draco stepped away from Hermione, a look of horror across his already pale complexion. Sitting on the bottom of the bed he put his head in his hands rubbing his eyes. After placing the dress at the top of the bed Hermione went and sat on the bed next to Draco who currently still held his head in his hands. "Draco speak to me," she said after a moments pause.
"I shouldn't have," he paused "It's against my code of conduct, but I guess that's me… breaking the rules and such." He laughed lightly, but there was no humour in it.
Hermione drew lazy circles around his shoulders with her hand as a sign of comfort, looking at his pale face. Undeniably he had grown; gone was the pointed face of adolescent, in was the adult Draco, smoothed off features slightly callused hands and fingers from writing with a quill, gripping tightly on a broom or holding a wand. Gone was the scrawny young boy; in was the tall, elegant, well toned and built man. Talking of well built, as Hermione rubbed his right shoulder blade closest to her, she felt Draco's trapezius shift as he lifted up his head, turning his mercury depths towards her, as if he wanted to say something.
She dropped her hand to play with a pleat in her skirt, avoiding his gaze. Noticing and knowing that it was a sign of discomfort, he turned away speaking to, but not looking at Hermione.
"I just came to say, if you want something to eat dinner is downstairs." He stood up from the bed looking down at Hermione who still refused to look him in the eye. "It did look really nice," he said, motioning to the dress. At the doorway he turned back as if to say something else. He finally caught Hermione's eye as she looked towards him from looking at the dress, but he only continued out of the door snapping his mouth closed.
-DMHG-
20 minutes later
After a long debate with herself, Hermione had decided to wear the black dress, hugging in all the correct places but still managing to be conservative, with a scooped neck finishing just above the knee.
She walked carefully down the staircase, trying to avoid any unnecessary damage to the Marc Jacob black pumps. Unsure of which way to proceed she did a trick Ron had taught her while they were searching for Horcruxes; lifting her nose into the air and taking a whiff, she followed the smell of Shepherd's Pie down the left corridor until she reached an intersection where both wings of the house met. Looking down each corridor confused, she realised that a home like the Malfoy's wouldn't have a kitchen area and dining table together, but in completely separate rooms. She deduced that the smell at the base of the staircase must have been some form of charm to entice visitors. She sighed, 'Where do I go from here?'
"Are you lost?"Hermione turned around to find Scorpius with an amused smile on his face. She blushed out of embarrassment nodding to his question, "I seem to have lost the trail of the food?" Scorpius raised an eye brow not getting the insider joke, and as Hermione thought about what she said, a connotation of 'Hansel and Gretel', she understood his baffled expression. 'Of course he won't understand a Muggle fairy-tale.' "I'm looking for the dining room?" she said clearing up the confusion.
"Follow me," he said. As he walked down the West wing, she noticed he had changed his clothes; instead of the blue stripped shirt he was wearing before he now had a black long sleeved shirt and black pants. 'He dresses just like his father,' Hermione thought as he stopped outside the door just past the central point of the house.
Opening the door for Hermione, Scorpius allowed her to enter first before closing the door and stepping inside. The large Mahogany table spanned the entire length of the room; nine seats per side culminating with a seat at either end, reminding Hermione of the table at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The far left of the table at the head sat Lucius Malfoy who was mid conversation with his wife to his right when Hermione and Scorpius made their entrance. The couple stopped to both stare at Hermione; well in the case of Lucius, get a sneer in while his wife was preoccupied.
Scorpius walked over to the older Malfoy's. "Grand-mère," he said kissing Narcissa's cheek, "Grandfather" he said, extending his hand to Lucius who shook it in turn.
"Scorpius," they replied in unison before their attentions turned back to Hermione.
Feeling self conscious around the Malfoy's, she straightened her dress before curtsying twice; once after saying "Lord Malfoy" and the second after saying "Lady Malfoy."
While Lucius simply nodded his head in greeting, Narcissa gave a much warmer welcoming; "It's Narcissa dear, may I call you Hermione?" Hermione nodded, dubious as to why she was getting a nice greeting from Narcissa; "Please sit and join us, you must be hungry," Narcissa continued, unaware of Hermione's trailing thoughts, motioning for Hermione to sit next to her while Scorpius sat opposite Narcissa, a plate already in front of him. His back was to the window that looked out on the gardens. Narcissa clapped her hands and a small house-elf appeared. "Drurry will you get Hermione some of that lovely Shepherd's pie?"
"Yes Mistress," the house elf answered before clicking his fingers and a plate of Shepherd's pie that could challenge even Molly Weasley's culinary skills, appeared in front of Hermione, accompanied by roast potatoes and vegetables. Hermione said a small 'thank you' before elf asked, "Would miss like a drink?" He paused before rounding off the possibilities at Hermione's nod "Fire whiskey? Butterbeer? Mead? Wine? Pumpkin Juice? Gillywater? Or Water?"
"I'll have a small white wine, thank you," Hermione answered upon seeing what the rest of the Malfoy's except Scorpius were drinking. The small house-elf summoned the drink with a click before Narcissa allowed him to leave; bowing and disappearing.
Twenty minutes passed in silence as Hermione ate or rather picked at her food, the day's previous events having left her with a surprising loss of appetite. When Lucius stood up from the table, his wife gave him a pointed stare before he cleared his throat, "If you don't mind I have business to attend to; Scorpius, Cissy… Mud-, Mrs Weasley."
Hermione grimaced as he spoke her name with a cold sneer. Lucius patted his Grandson's back before kissing his wife on the cheek. Once again he said, "Mrs Weasley," nodding his head before leaving the room.
Narcissa turned towards Hermione as her husband vacated the room. Noticing the younger woman's face she spoke up, "You'll have to excuse Lucius' behaviour some habits are harder to forget than others."
Hermione looked to Narcissa, "It's alright really I'm used to it… I'd much rather you all called me Hermione or Gran-" she paused noting she almost slipped up, before finishing quickly with a simple "anyway." She picked a spoon full of Shepherd's pie to have a way to recover before having to speak again.
"You mean referring to you as a Weasley?" Hermione didn't answer and simply continued to chew at a leisurely pace; in a way that wouldn't constitute as avoidance but was rather more plainly showing manners at the dining table. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me about whatever you're going through. We have only just had a civilised conversation where one of us isn't thanking the other or brandishing a wand after all. However if you need to speak to anyone, and it looks like you do, my son is rather good at listening."
'She sounds like she's trying to match him off… to me' Hermione thought, laughing slightly in her head. Back in the real world she simply said, "I remember." Well it was true. Many a time during her final year, she had woke from a nightmare to find a recently woken Draco Malfoy banging on her door to 'shut up or he'd hex her'. When she'd finally answered the door, her night clothes sticking to her cold sweated body, the sub sequential conversations were very one sided. Hermione would have laughed if during her first year she'd of been told she would bear all to the one boy who had tormented and degraded her constantly at every given opportunity.
A solemn silence enveloped the dining room; none of the three occupants seemed to be content with the silence, each returning to their meals or taking a sip of their drink periodically. A chipper Scorpius broke the hush "I was talking the other day to Amando and according to his mother the title of Princes of Slytherin are mine and his this coming Hogwarts year, the current holder, a Marka Stott, is due to graduate. All the same, I'm not sure if I want it."
"That title has been in the Malfoy line for many generations; your Father and Grandfather both held the prestige throughout their years at Hogwarts," Narcissa replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
"But rumour has it that James Potter will be Gryffindor's Prince; and Lily and Rose will be Gryffindor's Princesses and everyone knows Gryffindor and Slytherin are enemies and to be truthful…" he sighed, "I'd rather not have an enemy from the offset, even if James and myself don't see eye to eye as it is."
Hermione choked slightly on her drink, making the two Malfoy's; who had seemingly forgot that she was present, look towards her. "I know James can have his faults gets them of his name sakes apparently;" Narcissa paused momentarily to think of how similar James Sirius Potter were to what she'd been told about James Potter I, and how similar he was to the Sirius Black she had known many years ago. "But if you want acceptance and a truce at the very least, I suggest you talk to Lily, like her name sakes, and her parents, her mother especially; she has the ability to see the good in all people."
Hermione laughed to herself, remembering a time when Lily wanted to go searching for 'Gulping Plimpy's' in the lake district with Luna Lovegood and her husband Rolf Scamander along with all the family when she was seven; even after Ronald had insisted that Luna and Rolf were lying.
"You make it sound like a walk in the park, nobody will let me near her she'll be a Gryffindor and I'll be a Slytherin. It just won't happen; the two houses just don't mingle, they never have!"
Hermione sat thinking for a moment before deciding to interject a thought, "Well as you commented, you will be a Slytherin and if there is one thing they are notorious for, its being cunning. So I'm convinced you'll be able to think of a plan to get to know her. As for it never happening, look at your father and myself; he was Slytherin Prince, and I, Gryffindor Princess. We were polar opposites in a great deal of aspects; he was a Pure-blood wizard, I was muggleborn. Yet for all our differences, we have just as many similarities, but it took us hex after hex, insult after insult and a well placed slap to realise it; as well as a higher force that caused us to live in close quarters for months. Now look at us. Fifteen years ago I wouldn't have even stepped foot anywhere near a Malfoy residence by choice, but we became amicable, not best of friends mind you, but amicable." She stopped her monologue, looking at Scorpius.
He was staring an interesting piece of carrot on his plate, with of what looked to be- 'longing?' before he schooled his features into the Malfoy mask of indifference. He stood "If you'll excuse me." He walked around to the side of the table where Narcissa and Hermione sat. "Grand-mère," he quickly peeked her cheek. "Mrs Weasley," he added before rushing out of the door in the centre of the room.
The door closed and Narcissa spoke for the first time in 20 minutes, "I think you riled him a bit."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked cocking her head to the side to look at the older woman.
"Over the last fifty years I have met many Malfoy men and a common occurrence, which must be inherited, is the fact that they like to hide their emotions. You have to know them well in order to be able tell when they're hiding something, or at least you have to have lived within close quarters with them for an extended period of time. Some witches have lived for so long in the presence of a Malfoy; such as myself and Lucius' mother, that it becomes second nature to recognise their routines and thus, if something insignificant changes in their pattern, it is notably apparent. Scorpius would usually wait for me to finish, or for me to excuse him individually if we have a guest. He did neither so that, and the fact he isn't as well endowed to adapt his behaviour as his father and Grandfather, leads me to believe that something you just said got to him. Whether we'll find out what it is or not remains to be seen."
The pair fell into a comfortable silence, the only noise was the clattering of cutlery as they ate their food and Narcissa telling the house elves to remove Scorpius' plate. After ten more minutes, Hermione stared at a spot ahead of her; the curtains around the door that lead out onto the gardens to be specific, completely unaware that a pair of azure eyes watched her tactfully for an opening. After five more minutes, Narcissa decided to speak up instead of waiting, "Either my curtains are extremely interesting or you have a lot on your mind."
Hermione sighed, smiling sadly, "The latter." She paused briefly before adding, "But you do have a nice home Lady Malfoy."
"Narcissa dear, I've told you to call me Narcissa." Hermione saw a small smile grace the woman's lips and had to admit it was a strange sight to behold, 'A Malfoy smiling, who would have thought?'
"I don't know that much about you, only what I am likely to read in the newspapers, but you seem the type to have a nice home also," Narcissa continued encouragingly.
Hermione shrugged "My house is nice, not as large as the manor, but we suffice."
"But what about your home?" House generally means the building, but a home is what is found within the building, residing within the people and the atmosphere. Narcissa realised Hermione had purposely spoken of one and not the other.
Hermione looked down at her plate before looking back at the doors to outside, "My home is pleasant, I love my Daughter she is pretty much my world, and comes second to none."
When she didn't continue, Narcissa posed another question; a sore subject that was getting right down to the core, the nitty gritty, not the frills that accompanied the subject. "And what of your husband? Do you love him?" Hermione shook her head signalling she wasn't going to answer that question. "Does he love you?"
Once again, Hermione shook her head; but unlike the previous, her head shake was further down cast and her eyes began to well up again. "I know you won't speak to me about your hardships, but I really do suggest speaking to Draco. he may seem like an emotionless shell but he really isn't. I've seen him hurt plenty of times to know that for a fact." Narcissa paused looking intently at the younger women. She couldn't believe she was about to tell this, to this particular muggle-born witch, a member of the Golden Trio, Harry Potter's friend. 'But she saved the family' part of Narcissa negotiated, and that fact stood for a lot more. In the world of the Malfoy's, once someone practically saves the family, you owe them a debt of life which ends only with death of the Malfoy line.
"I and my husband were lucky for an arranged marriage, and unlike most we actually found our soul mates. After thirty-seven years of marital bliss, during which I admit the pair of us have had our fair share of arguments, but we've overcome them. He still loves me and I him, just as much as the day we first fell in love." As she spoke, she absently twirled the Emerald wedding ring around her finger. She sighed, "I wish my son had been given that."
Hermione cocked her head to the side watching the older woman. Narcissa looked back, blue eyes meeting brown and Hermione seemed to be asking a wordless question. Narcissa nodded before she continued, "I was aware my son wasn't happy with the arrangement but I believed he would overcome it, that he would learn to love her. I believed his family commitments should come ahead of his personal happiness, like it had so many times in the past" Narcissa shook her head "And so I didn't stop it; now he seems content to throw himself into the business, his Quidditch career or his family, without focusing on himself, That was my mistake. He and you, if you don't mind me saying, deserve the happiness that you were unable to get while at school due to all that expectation on your shoulders." Hermione gave a shuddering "thank you" to Narcissa.
"So heed my advice to talk to Draco. He will listen and understand what you are going through or at least he might, and it'll help this old lady out if her son would talk to someone about his problems instead of bottling them up, waiting for them to explode on some unexpected person." Narcissa squeezed Hermione's hand in a friendly gesture.
After a few more moments, Hermione nodded again wiping at her eyes. After finishing her drink of wine she finally spoke, "I think I will." She paused momentarily before adding absent-mindedly, "I've never had anyone to talk about it to." She stood from the table, smoothing down the front of the dress. "Whereabouts will he be?" she queried shyly.
"He's probably in his office, I'll walk you there." Narcissa stood gracefully, dusting the non existent crumbs off her own dark green dress. The pair walked towards the door and it opened magically. Walking down the corridor towards the central foyer, Narcissa spoke, "This West wing is the section of the house that Lucius and myself mainly stay in. Perhaps tomorrow I'll give you a full tour?" Narcissa stated in a tone which was hard to refuse. So Hermione simply nodded, continuing to follow the older woman up one lot of stairs, before turning to another set of stairs that Hermione had missed earlier.
The third floor consisted of the stairs coming out right onto a long corridor stemming the length of the house on both wings with many large sash windows looking out to the front gardens. At the top of the stairs, the woman took a left before she stopped completely. "The door right at the end of the corridor is Draco's office, I'm sure you can find your way back to your room later. If not, call Miffy and she'll escort you. Have a good evening Hermione." With that note, Narcissa pushed Hermione in the direction of Draco's office.
Hermione walked to the door. Turning around, she noticed Narcissa had already disappeared, so she knocked twice. Patiently waiting, she heard a slightly muffled voice sound through the door.
"Hello? Who's there?"
"It's erm, me, Hermione," she answered nervously. 'Why the hell am I so nervous?'
"I'm busy at the moment," he paused. "Will it wait until the morning?"
Slightly put-out, she simply said, "Yes, it will… I'm sorry to of disturbed you."
There was no reply as Hermione did a three-sixty marching off down the corridor to the stair case to take her back to her assigned room. "So much for him listening," she muttered, unaware that a Disillusioned Narcissa stood near the stairs watching and listening.
-DMHG-
-On the other side of the door-
"-I'm sorry to have disturbed you." He didn't answer and listened as Hermione walked away from his office, her heels clicking on the wooden flooring, the sound reverberating back.
Draco poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice from the chilling container brought to him by one of the house-elves. Staring at the papers on his desk he sighed. True he did have work to do, but none was due to Tuesday, his first work day of the week.
His sight flickered to those covered in a layer of dust. 'I should just let go, Scorpius needs a mother figure,' he thought, 'but what would he think?'
Another harsh knock sounded on the door bringing him out of his thoughts. Believing it to be Hermione, he said, "I already said I'm busy, I promise to speak to you tomorrow if it's that urgent." The door opened to reveal Narcissa Malfoy holding her glass of wine, summoned from down stairs in hand, a stern expression on her face. Draco knew that look was not good and made himself comfortable in his chair.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he drawled, motioning for her to sit in one of the green coloured leather comfort chairs in front of his desk.
She sat down eying Draco carefully. "I was talking to that young woman before," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, watching Draco for his reaction and noting that the only change was his grip on the chair arm. "She is not quite what I remember her to be; she seems to have lost her fierce confident stance don't you agree Draco?"
He hated his Mother's persistent questions that always led him to have to agree with whatever she was saying. "Living the life of a Weasley can do that to a person." He shrugged as if that was an obvious answer.
"Maybe that is the reason, or one of them at least, but she pretty much admitted that she doesn't feel loved at home, so I told her to speak to you because I thought you might be able to help. After much persuasion, she said she'd speak to you and you turned her away! By lying! I thought I brought you up better than that."
'Great the guilt trip'. "I was originally going to have the meal with the rest of the family, but I needed to sort myself out… I did something that I'm not proud of and needed to sober up so I sat here. When she came up I couldn't face seeing her like I am at the moment, so yes, I lied." Having dropped his head during his confession, he lifted it back to look his mother in the eye. "So I'm sorry that I lied, what do you want me to do? Go after her so you don't look like a liar?"
"No." She looked at her son thoughtfully, "I want you to go after her because she needs to talk to someone and I know you will understand." Narcissa paused. "I've never told you this, but I knew you and Astoria never loved each other but I never ceased in encouraging your union. For this I'm sorry. I also know you had feelings for someone else but lost them, so I know you must have gone through something similar, so will you at least speak to her?"
"What makes you so sure she'll tell me? I tried once and failed to get her to talk; I only succeeded in starting an argument. What makes you so sure talking now will get her to tell me whatever it is that is bothering her?"
"She told me," Narcissa stated simply.
"Trust me, she changes her mind quickly." He once again looked at his mother and one simple look at her face showed him she wasn't going to back down. 'So that's where Scorpius gets his stubborn behaviour from.' "You're not going to give up on this one, are you?" Seeing a shake of her head, Draco sighed. "If I try and she doesn't play along will you leave it be?"
Narcissa contemplated her answer; she didn't know the intricate workings of Hermione Weasley's mind apart from the fact that she puts everybody else's satisfaction before her own, but she did know her son's and the truth was he'd find some way out of this situation. So she gave the only answer she could…