Chapter Forty-Two: The Times They are A-changin'

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.
- The Times They are A-changin' by Bob Dylan

Draco and Hermione spent the first half of the week of Christmas in relative peace. With the battle still so fresh in everyone's minds, even more students than normal went home for the holiday break. Hermione enjoyed the quiet castle and meals with Draco and took a few hours to herself here and there to escape to the familiar library.

"I wish you wouldn't go alone," Draco said for what was probably the dozenth time and he paced their empty common room. "It's not safe."

"We've been out together in the castle and nothing has come after us," Hermione assured him. "As much as I hate to admit it, it looks like it is a student conjuring the Maliceptor. It appears that student has gone home for the holidays and without the catalyst the Maliceptor has gone as well."

"But not for good," Draco argued.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Unless the student suddenly went through a very rapid phase of puberty, I'd say we still have to work something out about that."

"Do you have any ideas?" he asked her.

Hermione shook her head in frustration. "None. I don't even know where to begin. You can't eliminate a poltergeist without eliminating the source, why do you think Peeves is still around? I'm not getting a child expelled or killed over something they can't control."

"How do you know they can't control it?" Draco asked fairly. "How do you know he or she isn't doing it on purpose?"

"It's not that simple," Hermione told him patiently. "You can't just decide you want to create any being out of the poltergeist family, you have to truly feel it. You can't just conjure the emotions needed out of thin air."

"I wonder why I never conjured one," Draco mused to himself. "I had plenty of self-righteous spite nicely bottled up for you and Potter."

It was a testament to how far they had come in a few short months that Hermione didn't even bat an eye at Draco's casual references anymore.

"I don't think you really hated either of us," Hermione said, working her brain around the thought. "I think you would have been completely apathetic if one or both of us bit the dust at some point, but you were never going to be holding the wand. You lacked the absolute rage or despair that this requires. It's nice to know, really," Hermione winked at him. "That's not to say your adolescent self wouldn't think it's a great lark, but no, this child's emotions are a wreck right now with no outlet."

"You're smart," Draco said simply. "You are very, very smart."

"I'm logical," Hermione corrected.

"And smart," Draco kissed her gently on the forehead. "Please be careful. I wish I could come with you."

"If you hadn't put off your holiday shopping you could be," Hermione chastised gently. "What are you planning on getting your mother?"

Draco smirked. "What do you get the woman who has everything? I'm hoping inspiration will strike."
"Good luck," Hermione told him and kissed him one last time before departing their common room.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Narcissa's gift wasn't the only thing on Draco's mind today. Hermione didn't technically forbid him from getting her a gift, but the implication was there. Not getting her something was completely out of the question to him, however, and he spent the last couple days beating his head against various walls trying to come up with something that could even begin to be worthy of her. Draco was a material boy who turned into a material man, but he found a lot of joy in giving people things. What's more, he could afford it.

He was frustrated that he could afford to buy her anything she could ever want, but he felt like he knew her well enough to know that she things she wanted were not always anything of monetary value. It had to be something priceless, like her. She would hex him if he bought her jewelry like he originally intended, but further introspection on that route made Draco realize that Hermione rarely, if ever, wore jewelry more complicated than a pair of small gold posts in her ears. He could buy her the Crown Jewels and Hermione would only be impressed at the historical value over the pretty gems.

That train of thought brought Draco to the obvious answer; books. Hermione inhaled books like oxygen, but in doing so Draco couldn't be sure he didn't get Hermione something she had already read twice over. He could easily order a rare copy of some text, but the library at Hogwarts boasted an extensive collections and he was sure she had already read through them all.

That left his private library, or, more specifically, the Malfoy private library. Rather than visiting shops all day he had owled his mother to let her know he would be coming to the manor to catch up and browse their collection of ancient tomes. His mother's quick response confirmed that she would be at the Manor and was looking forward to his visit.

Draco exited the common room as Hermione had and paused outside the door in the corridor to strain his ears for any sound that Hermione might be in distress. Hearing nothing, he turned the opposite way from the library to the main entrance of the castle. Once outside the Hogwarts boundaries Draco disappeared with a whirl of his cloak.

Malfoy Manor stood out like a fortress against the fog of the rolling moor surrounding it. Draco landed slightly up the road from his childhood home just outside the wards and stared up at the enormous structure. Not for the first time, he wondered how many Malfoy's stood in this exact spot throughout the generations and simply marveled. Draco grew up with the stone cold belief that he had been born into a superior family with superior blood, and would one day grow up to control the vast Malfoy fortunes and raise another generation of his superior magical race.

Draco had been wrong about one thing, the next generation wouldn't just be another of the same, it was going to be better.

Draco started walking briskly up the drive and wondered if he had any ancestors who would approve of the woman he fell in love with. Did every single Malfoy going back to the beginning of their time think they were too good to marry a muggle-born?

Marry. That word popping into his mind took Draco by such surprise that he quickened his pace as if to get away from it. He hadn't thought about marriage yet in a concrete way, but considering they had only been together less than two months that wasn't a surprise.

What was surprising was that Draco didn't need to think about marrying Hermione. To him, they belonged to each other. He could see a legal union at some point, but that was just parchment. In such a short amount of time Draco's entire being revolved around Hermione, and he wasn't humble enough to feel that she didn't feel the same.

Draco continued walking up the familiar path until he reached the gates that separated the inner court yard from the moors outside. Draco waited while the gate door opened, apparently on its own accord, and crossed the threshold into the garden inside.

Draco shivered a little when he passed through the boundary spells that had been on the Manor for longer than Draco's history books reported. They were in place primarily to repel muggles, but Draco also knew they could keep intruders out. He never had the opportunity to see what would happen if an army were to try to storm the gates like the wizards of old feared. He hoped he would never find out.

Rather than ringing, Draco grabbed the snake-shaped door handle to the wide front entrance and let himself in. Malfoy Manor was protected by things much stronger than locks, and as such the entrance doors didn't even have them. Draco slipped through the house and checked his watch. It was just about breakfast time and he was fairly certain where he could find his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was a creature of habit.

"Good morning, mother," Draco entered one of the sitting rooms off the library and greeted his mother, who was curled up in a large armchair and reading a book.

"Draco, I didn't hear you come in," Narcissa gracefully rose from her position and came to kiss both of her son's cheeks. "How are you, my darling?"

Draco took in his mother, who was dressed in simple day robes with her hair falling loosely down her back. He couldn't remember when she looked this relaxed.

"You look very well," Draco said with some surprise. "Better than well."

"I feel it," Narcissa went back to her chair and beckoned Draco to join her. After calling for a house elf and asking him to bring them a small breakfast selection, Narcissa relaxed back into the chair as she was when Draco first arrived. The house elf arrived minutes later with a tea trolly and assortment of toast, fruit, and egg and Draco and his mother served themselves.

"I feel peaceful," Narcissa said after they had both taken several bites of their breakfast. "I confess it is a foreign emotion."

"And you're not still worried Hermione is after my money?" Draco asked skeptically.

"She can be after your money and still be a good witch and treat you properly," Narcissa said with a smile. "But I don't think she cares about the fortune."

"That's actually why I'm here," Draco was grateful for the opportunity to lead into his request.
"I don't know what to give her for Christmas. She told me the trip to France was more than enough as a gift, but I disagree. Unfortunately I think she would be put out with me if I spent money on her."

"Curious girl," Narcissa mused. "What did you have in mind?"

"A book," Draco replied promptly "Specifically something rare, something she surely hasn't read already. I'm positive she's been through all the rare texts in Hogwarts at this point, but I wanted to look around to see if we had something unique."

"You love her very much," Draco's mother observed. "It isn't like you to give away priceless family artifacts."

"I wish I had known her sooner," Draco said with uncharacteristic wistfulness. "She brings out the best in me because the best is all she sees. How is that possible after everything I've done?"

"My darling you are not a bad man," Narcissa reproached gently. "If Miss Granger eases the hurt in your heart then I will personally wrap every single tome in the library and deliver them to her myself."

Draco looked at his mother with surprise. "That was rather poetic, mother," he said with a genuine smile.

"Miss Granger and I already have an understanding, you see. While you were being the perfect host to our strange guests after the funeral we were able to chat."

"Oh?" Draco tried to not sound too curious.

"Yes," Narcissa said and stood up again from her chair. "We even have something in common."

Draco rose to meet her. "What is that?"

"We both love you dearly. Let's go see what we can find in the library."

Back at Hogwarts Hermione had own reasons for rushing Draco away for the day. Giddy with her own Christmas surprise, Hermione raced down to the dungeons and quickly unlocked the door that led to the 7th year potions hall.

At the beginning of the term Professor Slughorn informed the 7th (and 8th) years that they had completed their training as far as potion theory and application went, and for their final year they were to study the complex Polyjuice potion for their first term and then pick a potion of their choosing for their second term. Hermione was disappointed at the time, having already made several batches of the potion herself. Once in their second year, and then she spent the summer before she left with Harry making enough for their time on the run and again when they returned. Polyjuice was a remarkably effective offensive weapon when one needed to be hidden away, just in case. After coming to Slughorn about this dilemma he suggested (after a delighted cursory exam of the samples Hermione showed him) that Hermione simply pick another potion that she felt would challenge her. At first none came to mind. What would be the most useful? She knew healing spells, potions are always handy but not often very complex. What would take months or more to reach maturity, while still proving their worth in the long run? Tentatively she asked if she could try her hand at liquid luck, and Slughorn was nearly beside himself to offer her his keys to the rare potion ingredients kept locked away from most students.

That had been before she and Draco had come to their understanding, and long before they were telling each other the specifics of their lives. When Hermione's parents sent that letter Hermione thought of using the gold potion to try to make things right, but then decided there was a better return for her investment.

When Hermione opened one of the brewing rooms she saw to her relief that the Felix Felicis bubbled happily in the small cauldron and she cast a critical eye over the color and texture. The potion had reached maturity in preparation and was ready to be bottled. It would have to sit for another six months in the vials she planned to give her loved ones for Christmas, but it was a gift anyone would be ecstatic to receive.

Hermione left a note for Slughorn to check her finished product on his desk and closed the heavy classroom doors behind her.

"This is a mad plan, you know," Ron Weasley was saying to Harry back at Grimmauld Place. "Did that Horcrux take some of your brain, too? There's going to be casualties."

Harry and Ron were sitting at Harry's kitchen table pulling out return parchment from Harry's invitations he owl'd early the day before, between them sat a large oval platter of sandwiches for dinner and few bottles of butterbeer scattered the table.

Harry laughed at his best friend but Ron was glaring at him. "Relax, Ron. There won't be any casualties if you can keep a lid on your temper."

"My temper is fine," Ron retorted. "You're the one with these mad ideas about inter-house Christmas parties. It's not even your new Slytherin friends. Do you remember the last time we saw Xenophilius Lovegood? He tried to hand us over to the Deatheaters!"

"That's because the Deatheaters had Luna," Harry said calmly. "I don't know what I wouldn't do if my kid were in trouble. I'd turn me in too I'd wager."

"Remind me to keep clear when you start procreating, then," Ron said with a sour face. "This whole scheme of yours is still mad."

"It's not a scheme," Harry replied. "And it's not mine. It's Hermione's."

"Well she's pretty mad too these days," Ron grumbled.

"She's happy," Harry corrected him. "At least, as happy as she can be right now. I think she wanted this party to distract herself from not being with her parents again for Christmas. It's harder on her than she lets on, you know."

"I know," Ron admitted. "It still makes me think she's better off without them."

"Maybe you're right," Harry said noncommittally. "It's not out place to say either way. In any case, Malfoy makes her happy. I don't think I'll be inviting him out for a friendly game of Quidditch anytime soon, but I'd do anything to keep Hermione happy after this summer."

"Was it really as bad as all that?" Ron asked Harry quietly. "I know you told me...things. But it's Hermione. She's scary strong."

"She feels things stronger than most," Harry speculated. "I mean, she's ruthless when she has a cause, and she's determined and a little manic obsessive about things she cares about, and she just loves so much that it makes her hurt that much more when something hurts her."

Ron flinched. "Like me, like leaving did."

"She cried for weeks," Harry said without apology. "But that was nothing compared to the state she was in after her parents turned her away. I think she just hit her breaking point. Her obsessive compulsion just started focusing on protecting herself, this house, her rooms at Hogwarts, potions, spells, hexes, curses, charms, she probably cycled though five huge textbooks in a day and night trying to cram all she could into her brain. Maybe that was how she coped."

"I should have been here," Ron said sadly. "But-"

"Your family needed you," Harry reminded him.

"You and Hermione are my family, too."

"I know."

"Do you think she's forgiven me?"

Harry looked at Ron over the mess of ripped envelopes and parchment. Ron looked older tonight, maybe more worn out from Auror training, but certainly more resigned over the subject of Hermione.

"I think she forgave you as soon as you walked out of the tent," Harry said honestly. "But I don't think she really knows that. She doesn't want to be hurt again."

"I'm in no position to hurt her now," Ron objected. "She has Malfoy now."

"Romance doesn't have anything to do with it," Harry said. "She still loves you, she's terrified about how you feel about her and Malfoy and about how your family is going to react. If you really want to put this to rest I think your best bet is to be supportive. And nice. Harry added.

Ron grimaced. "To Malfoy, huh?"

"And his mother," Harry added. "Her RSVP was the first one to show up."

(A/N) Truckin' right along aren't we? I apologize that these few chapters haven't been exactly action packed, but I felt they were necessary to move the story along and didn't want to make one 10k chapter vs. my usually 3-4k chapters. Consider this the calm before a couple pretty major storms (heh.). It was fun to write a little Harry/Ron banter for a change. Like a lot of Dramione shippers I'm not Ron's biggest fan but I don't think he's a bad or even mediocre person, just not right for Hermione ;) Please let me know what you think! This was a pretty round-robin type chapter, but next up is going to be quite the crowd. Will everyone be able to keep themselves in check?

And I forgot last month was my Dramione anniversary! I published my first fic in December of 2002. Most of it makes me cringe now, and I occasionally get a snarky review about my lack of grammar comprehension and general sentence structure/readability as a whole (honestly, who takes time to snark on a fic over a decade old?!) but twelve years later I'm feeling pretty good. Writing fanfiction and reading feedback has been an amazing tool in my own personal writing, so thanks for sticking with me, it really means more than words can say.

On that mushy note, thanks for reading! Feel free to find me on Tumblr at arielxwriter and drop me an ask =) Until next time!