Burbage High

by Charlotte Bird

14 Years post war, Hermione has become Head of the progressive, yet failing Burbage High. Handling right wing politics is easy, but working out why Malfoy is insisting his son start there in September is not. 10 years spent in Azkaban and 2 years isolated in the muggle world may have changed Draco, but surely not that much? Is something more sinister going on?

5. Monday Morning

Disclaimer: I don't make any money off this. JK owns EVERYTHING

Chapter Five - Monday Morning

Hermione Granger lay in her bed and glared at the darkened ceiling, willing her mind to stop its endless cycle through the days awful events.

Things had started out normally enough for a Monday morning. She had risen at six thirty, gone for a brief swim at the local leisure centre, dressed sensibly in her new lightweight grey skirt suit, had a healthy breakfast of muesli, greek yogurt and blueberries, and was beginning to review her timetable for the big day when the owls had begun to arrive. The first was from Orla Quirke. Hermione's new acquisition to the Burbage team was a kind of public relations expert and spokesperson of the school. Hermione, please floo or call me, it's urgent. Hermione's mind flashed through the possibilities; Press conference rescheduled? Parents dropping out of today's open day? Had the school burnt down? She tracked down her phone and called Orla. It wasn't good, at all.

"The Daily Post, page four, we've got you in a compromising position with a muggle man. Aspersions cast on your judgement, personal life, taste in men, et cetera, et cetera. Any ideas? Big party this weekend? Were you just drinking?" Orla was professional, composed and once Hermione got over her shock and thought back over this moment, she would be eternally grateful for her appointment. She had headhunted the ex-Ravenclaw earlier that summer from a muggle marketing firm and had dragged her back into the magical world. People had thought it was over the top needing a P.R. expert for a school, but its public image would be its undoing unless they managed to turn that around.

"It was Harry's birthday. What's going on?"

"The Post have done an exposé over a photo of you taken at Mr Potter's birthday on Saturday. Most of it seems to be based on gossip and so we might be able to get them for defamation. How much is true? Did you have sex?"

"Orla! It's not even eight! Please slow down, I need to see this article. Can you email it to me?"

"Already done, check your computer." Hermione shakily opened up her desk drawer, pulled out the old Toshiba laptop and plugged it in. She rarely used it if she could help it, but Orla preferred to operate in the 21st century. God, it would have been quicker just to floo to hers and pick it up, she thought impatiently as it clunked to life. Wifi... email... There! Oh my FUCKING God.

"Hermione, Are you still there?" Her heart thundered in her ears as she scanned the screen. On first glance it was a disaster. She looked completely off her face and the way he was groping her thighs... And the writing... Of course it had to mention Ron. Well actually, apart from that, what was written was such garbage that it almost definitely took away from authenticity of the photo. Hermione took a deep breathe and tried to suppress her initial hysterical reaction into something more coherent.

"Yeah, I am. No, we didn't have sex, yes of course I was just drinking. We just kissed. I mean, he was gay!What do we do?" And they began to outline a plan: Be dignified, make no comment, eventually turn this to their advantage. Hermione wasn't too sure about this last point. She suspected it was more something she'd just had to ride out. She'd been watching Harry do it for years; that is until he found he was at perfect liberty to bite back with the law on his side. The press tended not to go for him so much any more.

The next hour was spent receiving further owls; ones from members of the board, various governors; even the chairman of the governors wrote to her demanding an explanation. She answered them all in the same vein: It was a private party, we don't know who is responsible though we suspect who is trying to discredit us. (who else but the WIP?) It is complete conjecture on their part and we will be pursuing legal advice. Today's events will still go on. Please let me take this opportunity to ensure you do not need to worry about my ability to react professionally to this matter. Hermione was eternally thankful that most of the wizards she dealt with were not like Orla, and still preferred to communicate via quill and parchment. She didn't think she'd have been able to keep the tremor from her voice if she'd had to defend herself on the phone.

It was when the howlers from reactionary parents began to arrive that Hermione decided it was time she got to school. She had planned on taking the muggle underground in and arrive publicly, but that was now out of the question. She collected her papers into her new leather briefcase, nervously smoothed her hair into a bun and practiced smiling into the mirror. She looked frantic. She scowled instead and stepped into the fireplace, and called out the name of the school.

The founders of Burbage High had struggled for a year before finally finding a suitable location in London for their magical school. One that was easily accessible by public transport, yet secluded enough for casual observers not to witness any suspicious goings on. It had seemed like an impossible task. The area that included Diagon Alley was not an option - it was already bursting at the seams and expanding it to fit in a school that could cater for up to 500 students was beyond the capability of even the most highly advanced magic. Even expanding a muggle building like St Mungos, wouldn't have worked, due to the necessity of outdoor space.

Eventually and surprisingly, one such site came about in overcrowded muggle London. This was a result of the inevitable 'regeneration' that was sweeping through the poorer parts of the capital at that time and the demolition of problem neighbourhoods. The Heygate estate was such a place, and it was notorious for its high levels of crime, its social depravation, and its ugly, Neo-Brutalist architecture, based, like so many buildings built in the seventies, on misplaced Corbusian ideas. The land was arranged to be sold to investors and developers and so the residents were loudly and rudely evicted from their council owned flats and social housing and on to supposedly fresher pastures. However, after a fanfare of publicity and hype over the future gentrification of the area, (and, more importantly, it's predicted rise of value) the scheduled date of demolition was quietly postponed and strangely, the British public soon forgot about it all.

Today, if a muggle takes a bus east down the A201, they will still see the monstrous main tower block running along the side of the road. Rows stacked upon rows of concrete; graffitied, dilapidated and oppressive. It would have a horrible feel to it, as if scary, terrible things happened there. Luckily for them, they would soon forget that they'd even seen it at all. However, if a witch or wizard were to walk through the gates, and past the main tower block they would find children, trees, playing fields and the charming, eclectic architecture of Burbage High, built amongst the protective outer buildings; their height offering complete privacy. It was a win for all involved. The muggle government could brush the controversy surrounding the re-development, under the carpet. They also got an amount of influence over wizarding Britain - something that was essential after the amount of casualties their last war had caused. And, of course the wizards got their new school.

Hermione always thought, when feeling particularly whimsical, that it was almost poetic how a place historically seeped in so much deprivation, could help nurture the birth of a new equal wizarding society. It was with this in her heart that she stepped out of the fireplace and into her small, yet homely office and prepared to fight for the day.

The scheduled press conference at ten was, of course, a bloodbath. What was meant to be an opportunity to formally introduce herself to the magical public as a Headmistress and outline where she was planning on taking the school, turned into an inevitable barrage of questions and demands about that photo, her relationships, her friendship with Harry, and with some reporters barely able to disguise their statements as questions, and that cast doubt on her very suitability for the position.

"All this fuss, just over a bloody photo! I mean, this is turning out to be utterly ridiculous!" She fumed in her office to an equally harried looking Orla after they'd managed to escape back into safety. "It doesn't even show anything! It's just a kiss! This is just because the man is a muggle isn't it? People's knee jerk reactions are so fucking typically backwards." Hermione's assistant, Laura, scurried in at this point with tea and biscuits.

"Come on Hermione, let's have a cuppa, take five minutes and put this behind us. The parents are due to arrive at eleven and if we don't pull ourselves together and act like nothing is wrong they will know something is up." Orla placated. "Who even reads the 'Daily Post'? It's utter tabloid trash."

"Apparently, everyone." She snapped back.

"No one with any sense will pay it any attention. By tomorrow all anyone will be talking about is how excited they are to send their child here. So, we've got your introduction in the hall at eleven. Followed by a further talk to the muggle parents." Hermione smiled at Orla's attempt to rally her with a review of the day's schedule. "Is Simon's speech up to scratch?"

"Yes, it's very informative." Hermione replied. "I've reviewed it extensively. Brief overview of the structure of the magical world, what being a witch or wizard actually means for their child, including technically, culturally and to a lesser extent, socially; the core magical subjects we teach, career options to their children, and so on and so forth. Honest yet without being excessively sincere."

"Good, we don't want to scare them off." Orla said. Hermione laughed ruefully, taking a long sip of tea. "Then the tours will take place around the different departments, and of course, scheduled interviews with the confirmed students and their parents." Hermione nodded in affirmation. She only had ten scheduled so far. The interviews were not a selection tool, but in fact an attempt to get to know the new student, their current level of knowledge of both magic and muggle subjects, and she hoped, so they could see her as someone approachable and within reach. The whole open day had been her pet project and these interviews were an extension of that. When she had been promoted it was the first thing she began to organise; why should anyone entrust her with their children's education if they haven't even been introduced? She checked the clock, it was 10:45. She gulped down the rest of her tea.

"Right, well I'm going to set up in the Hall."

"Good luck. You'll be fantastic. Just forget about this morning and focus on the rest of the day. Don't let them get what they want. You know what I mean." Hermione smiled grimly. Yes she did. There was absolutely no way Mirage and his cronies would take this from her now. Especially not over such a graceless attempt on her reputation. She was Hermione Granger and she was made for this job. She had never failed at anything and if she could be made headmistress of a school at 32, there was no way a bunch of backwards idiots could stand in her way.

The seating in the hall hadn't been full as she'd hoped. But she estimated there had been about one hundred people in total. Despite a few instances of latecomers and even a couple sneaking in towards the end, she had managed to get through the talk without incident. Although she had started out shakily, by the end she was in her stride and she got a loud round of applause at the end. Hermione desperately hoped she had managed to sound impassioned enough, without bordering on fervent, and with enough information without being dry. She'd even managed to get a few titters out of the audience, which was a massive achievement as Hermione knew she always came across as far too sincere to ever be considered funny. As she lay in bed that night, mind running over her words and the memories of the attentive faces in the audience, at least the success of her speech was something from the day she could be pleased with.

The same could not be further from the truth for the inevitable meeting with Draco Malfoy and his son, Scorpius. In the whirlwind of drama the article had caused, she had almost forgotten what was coming that afternoon. The previous interviews had gone without incident: she was pleased to note the children seemed even excited about September. As expected they were mostly muggle borns, with a couple of half bloods between them. None with any previous magical knowledge, only a handful of instances of accidental magic for each. Most had received Hogwarts letters, but Hermione thought all were choosing Burbage no doubt due to the latter not offering their child a scholarship. Scorpius Malfoy was the sixth interview to take place and at exactly 2pm him and his father entered her office. She wondered wildly if he had seen the article and desperately tried to push away the image of her drunk and flashing her knickers, as she stood up and offered her hand. She tried to project a cool, confident authority, and smiled.

Draco Malfoy had changed a great deal over the twelve years she had seen him last. Gone was his easy saunter and his casual arrogance that resulted from an upbringing seeped in privilege. His tall stature was reduced by a slight stoop to his shoulders, and his white blonde hair was thinning slightly at the temples. His face had the same, slightly pointed, chiseled features, but without either the smirk or disgusted look she associated with him plastered across them, he looked slightly gaunt and very tired. Hermione knew that Azkaban was a very different place to what it had been when they were younger. The dementors were still present, but more as a security measure than as a sustained use of torture and punishment. However, long exposure even at at that level evidently still had a lasting effect. Unexpectedly he was dressed in faded black trousers, worn leather shoes, and a long sleeved, dark green pullover and could easily have passed for a muggle. Hermione didn't think she had ever seen him out of wizarding robes. The effect was disconcerting.

Although his body language seemed to be telling her that he was as nervous about this meeting as she was, his hand was un-expectantly warm and dry as he firmly shook her offered one. Hermione cringed internally at how clammy her own hand must have felt.

"Mr Malfoy." She said, stiffly, her stomach filled with nerves.

"Afternoon, Granger. This is my son, Scorpius Malfoy. Shake hands, Scorpius." He still had that confident drawl; that lazy, aristocratic way of speaking that Hermione had not encountered in a long time. Scorpius stepped out from behind his father, stuck his hand out unwillingly and snatched it back after a brief touch. His eyes remained glued to the floor as they took a seat. He looked remarkably similar to Draco, only with more of a gentle roundness to his face that she guessed was from his mother. However, despite the resemblance, if she had seen him out of context she would never have guessed he was a wizard. He was comfortably wearing a grey hoodie, dark blue tracksuit bottoms and well worn Adidas trainers.

"Nice to meet you, Scorpius." The boy didn't answer. Draco pursed his lips. "My name is Hermione Granger and I'll be your headmistress while you're at Burbage. Thank you for coming today, I've been very excited to meet you." She attempted to engage him, and fought the urge to perceive his continued silence and churlishness as insolence. "How have you been, Mr Malfoy?" She asked, sounding awkwardly formal. His expression was unreadable.

"Fine. Thank you. Yourself?"

"That's great, I mean, I've been great." She said clumsily. Could she see a slight smirk playing across his face? She felt herself redden and waded on back to more comfortable waters, breaking the awkward silence. "Scorpius, this interview is a chance for us to get to know each other, before school starts. I'll be teaching a few of your classes of course, but this can be an opportunity for you to ask me any questions."

"You'll be teaching?" Malfoy said. Hermione looked from the boy, who was still refusing to make eye contact, to his father and frowned. This had been covered in her speech.

"Yes, just a few of the first year's core subjects: transfiguration, potions, science. Of course, I covered this earlier...?" She said falteringly. Malfoy glanced nervously at his son and cleared his throat.

"We were, held up, and missed most of what you said." Of course they had been the late ones to enter. Probably didn't feel the need to arrive on time. Typical -

"Dad got us lost coming out of the station." Scorpius said sullenly to his lap. Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"You didn't use the floo entrance?"

"We aren't connected to the floo network unfortunately. Scorpius is great on the underground usually. It's me that struggles." Draco said, sheepishly. Scorpius rolled his eyes.

"Father, it's soo easy. Just the Central line down and change at Bank on to the Northern Line to Elephant and Castle. I mean, the exit was quite confusing with the big roundabout but we found it eventually." Hermione wasn't sure what to say.

"Scorpius is very intelligent for his age." Draco told her, obviously noticing her incredulity and giving her the most genuine, sincere smile she had ever seen on his face. It made a startling difference. She blinked and gave him a cautious one back.

"We often find that children have a far greater ability to adapt to change and embrace new technologies than adults. I mean, how else would you explain previously muggle children suddenly being able to function in a magical society?"

"It's true!" Scorpius said, outraged. He had certainly perked up. "Father won't even let us have a TV!" Hermione looked at Malfoy and couldn't help smile a little at how uncomfortable he looked.

"Well, we don't need one. I don't understand what the point of them is!" He protested. Hermione suppressed a laugh. This whole interview was becoming very strange. Draco Malfoy defending himself against buying a television!? Scorpius scowled.

"But all we do is read and play games."

"What's your favourite book, Scorpius?" Hermione said, seeing an opportunity to engage the boy.

"The Lord of the Rings trilogy." He finally met her eyes. They were large, blue and sincere. Hermione was again, pleasantly surprised. That was far beyond the usual capabilities for a child his age. And a muggle book no less! Now that was very interesting. She beginning to get the impression that Scorpius had for more potential than he wanted to let on. She wondered briefly who introduced him to those books; surely it couldn't have been Malfoy?

"Who's your favourite character?"

"Well, Gandalf obviously, since he's a wizard. But I also like Aragorn, and Samwise Gamgee."

"Not Frodo?" Hermione asked. Scorpius shrugged.

"He's alright, but not without Sam. He gets influenced by the Ring too easily. Sam's the real Hero."

"Well, you'll be glad to know Scorpius what here at Burbage we have an English lesson once a week where we read and learn about books, plays and poetry. Things written by both wizard and muggle authors like Tolkien." She smiled and went on to her first listed question. "So, what do you both think of the school? Did you go on a tour?"

"S'alright." Scorpius shrugged. "It's not Hogwarts." Draco frowned at him. There was another awkward silence.

"Well, we may not be as impressive as Hogwarts, but I do believe we do certain things better." She said, carefully. "To start with you won't be slapped with a label from the minute you walk in in the form of a Hogwarts house. We think that sorting before you are fully developed does damaging things to children's idea of their own identity. Of course it suits some people, but for others it may force them to either conform to something they may not want, or else publicly rebel, which not many can do." Draco nodded imperceptibly. Scorpius however, frowned.

"But I want to be in Slytherin..." He muttered almost too quietly for Hermione to hear. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Scorpius, please, can we not go through this again." Scorpius folded his arms and scowled back into his lap. Hermione fiddled with her pen and observed the two bicker without offering her thoughts: that Scorpius would be at a massive disadvantage if he were sorted into Slytherin with a name like Malfoy. If that was any part of the reason just why Malfoy was sending her son here, then she could certainly applaud that. Still, it didn't fully explain things.

"And of course, we are completely inclusive to children of all backgrounds. It doesn't matter how much money you've got, or how magical you are. We believe everyone should have a chance." She said, earnestly. "If it's okay, I'd like to ask you a few questions, just to understand where your education level is currently." Scorpius nodded. "Have you attended any primary school, or been given any academic tuition?" Scorpius looked ready to answer, but Malfoy spoke up first.

"I've been tutoring him for the past couple of years. Just the usual basic stuff really; an introduction to potion prep and a little practical, astronomy, arithmetic, penmanship and writing skills, history, Latin and magical theory." He gave his son a meaningful look that Hermione almost missed as she took notes. Purely magical theory? It wasn't unusual for children with a magical parent to arrive with more than a little than just a theoretical grasp on magic. The trace didn't work if you borrowed your parent's wand, after all. And that was Malfoys idea of basic? No wonder the pure bloods had been miles ahead at the start of Hogwarts.

"And what about any of the following subjects: geography, science, music, modern languages, art and design and religious education?"

"Well, I can speak French, and I like drawing?" Scorpius said, cautiously. Hermione beamed at him.

"That's brilliant, Scorpius. Well you can chose between either German or Spanish if you would like to learn another language while you're here." Well, it wasn't quite brilliant; he'd be quite behind the other students as nearly all had attended a muggle primary school. If he was as intelligent as Hermione was starting to suspect however, catching up wouldn't be a problem.

"What I would like to know," Draco drawled, as Scorpius looked thoughtfully at Hermione, "Is why are these muggle subjects taught, when they are receiving a supposedly magical education." She had expected this question and launched into her prepared answer.

"We teach 'muggle' subjects here because we believe they are a really valuable aspect of everybody's education; I don't even see why they need to be labeled as 'muggle' as here we try to incorporate them into the more traditional wizarding subjects. We teach music, literature and art because we believe in the importance of creativity. Geography and the sciences because even though we can use magic and manipulate reality, it doesn't excuse us from learning about how the world works. I believe over time wizards and witches have become somewhat lazy." Malfoy glowered at this point and began to look more like his old self. Hermione continued quickly, "I mean, if you can use a spell that heats water to boiling point, then what's the point of understanding just how heat conduction works? What is it that causes heat Scorpius?" Scorpius looked uncertainly at his Dad.

"Magic?"

"Well a spell is the tool in this case, but it's actually energy. If you look at water very close up, you will see that it is made up millions of things that are too small to be visible to our eyes, called molecules." The two Malfoys gave her blank looks. She sighed internally and plowed on, committing herself to explain this to the end. "Just like when you look at a field from a distance, the surface looks solid green. However, as you get closer and closer, you can make out that the field is actually made up of individual blades of grass. Those are like the molecules that make up water." She winced slightly at her clumsy analogy and the bemused look on the faces of both father and son. "So, just like you and I can walk around this room due to our energy, the water molecules are flowing around due to their energy. Heat energy is transferred from your wand to the molecules and they start to move around faster, just like you might if you've had too much sugar. The fast molecules give off heat and start banging into the slow cold molecules; transferring some of their energy across, like a chain. Eventually all the molecules are moving fast and giving off heat. The water will feel hot to your touch. Eventually, if you continued to heat it to boiling point, the molecules would have so much energy that they float away. That is how steam occurs. " Hermione stopped and took in a deep breathe, aware that her nerves had caused her to ramble. She was relieved to see that she had held Scorpius' attention; if the inquisitive gaze he was giving her was anything to go on.

"The point of this little muggle science lesson was...?" Malfoy however, looked incredibly bored. Hermione felt herself flush. She knew she'd gone on a bit too long...

"The point being, if a wizard can understand how things work on a molecular level, then we can use this knowledge to really further our understanding and advance our ability with magic." She said, feeling flustered.

"But is it really necessary? I mean, we've been doing just fine without it. I mean, muggles have had to come up with that as they didn't have a choice. It was that, or remain completely primitive." Hermione tensed at his choice of word.

"If you look at the technological advances Muggles have made over the past one hundred years, compared to wizards, it is absolutely shocking. There is nothing primitive about them. Did you know that the muggles have put an intelligent robot on Mars, planet Mars, which as we speak is sending us photos of it's environment, investigating its climate and geology, and whether it could even support life?"

"Which, wouldn't even be necessary if the muggles weren't hell bent on destroying our own planet?" He smirked at Hermione's stumped look. "You may think we're pureblood idiots Granger, but any idiot is capable of reading a muggle newspaper every once in a while. As far as I can see, muggles are self destructive and as ignorant as you pretend to be wise. These technological advances you speak of have done nothing but create whole multitude of parasitic industries devoted to raping the earth for materials, to make into useless gadgets, for muggles to use once and then forget about. TVs so they can forget how to use their brains, cars so they can forget how to walk and get fat, and a whole plethora of shit that does god knows what." Hermione sat still, rocked by this sudden outburst. Scorpius was subdued once again and was watching his Father, silently. "You seem so enamoured with muggle culture, but what about wizarding culture? If I send my son to your school, are you going to be teaching more than just how to heat up water with either a spell or an electric kettle? What about any of the important things that show what it means to be a wizard? Our culture and history?" His gaze was intense and his smirk was scornful and Hermione felt a flush begin to rise up her neck at his insinuations.

"A culture based on the obsolete rituals and traditions of pure-blood wizards?"

"There is far more to our heritage than that, but of course you wouldn't want to know or even appreciate any of it." He said, very condescendingly.

"Why would I? This is a culture that until recently would have rejected me even being in a position like this. That had no structure in place to allow for a true democratic system, instead having a ministry that was run by inherited titles, privilege, and corruption? A culture that represses intelligent beings such as elves and goblins and imposes slavery into their very psyche, whilst you proclaim to be a higher species?" Her voice shook slightly as she felt herself losing control. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"How can you pretend that muggle culture is so much better? That there is no prejudice or corruption. Are you so naive? Democracy isn't a perfect system. The muggles are so stupid they can't help but vote for people that aid to their very destruction. Their priorities are all based on greed, power and materialism." He spoke slowly and with all the confidence and arrogance of someone who knows their opinion is the right one. She felt a spike of anger at the way he just sat there, calmly belittling them with one generalised swipe.

"And yours aren't, Malfoy? What else could you blame for half of societies absolute devotion to a hateful, racist ideology, that meant you nearly followed a raving lunatic to the grave? If it wasn't to grasp power back from the imagined threat of people like me." Her voice was finally raised, her hands were shaking and heart pummelling. At that Malfoy rose from his chair. She'd finally got a reaction off him; gone was the pretence of detached cool. Instead, his face was twisted in anger. He leant in, hands on the desk, face close to hers. She had to use every ounce of control not to pull back. Even in the heat of emotion, like a sudden drenching of water, she realised she had gone too far.

"You dare bring that up around my son, you mud-" He stopped abruptly, the word hanging between them, incomplete. He jerkily pulled back with a glance down at Scorpius as if suddenly remembering he was there. Hermione remembered too, and felt a spike of panic that she had said those things in front of a pupil. To his father. Suddenly Malfoy shut down, seeming indifferent again, cold. "I am leaving, Scorpius. You finish your interview, I'm sure Miss Granger has some more questions for you," he drawled and looked up at her, eyes full of something terrifying. "After all, while she is free to act as disgracefully as she wants in her private time, and even though we have seen evidence to the contrary today, I trust her to be entirely professionally in regards to educating the future generation of witches and wizards."

With that, he swept from the room, leaving Scorpius to gaze behind him. His eyes looked shiny and his small pointy chin was creasing. Hermione felt like she was also close to tears. Disgracefully? He had known about the article, of course he had! she thought wildly. She felt absolutely horrified, not just by what he had said, but also by how she had acted. She had been completely unprofessional. No, worse than that. She had acted with such hysterical lack of control that she was surprised he hadn't said worse. Of course Malfoy was the one to provoke her. What was he even doing here? She sat down dazedly, the blood still pounding in her ears, and looked at the boy who was also seemed to be struggling to control his own emotions. Hermione felt dreadful.

"I'm sorry about that." She offered lamely.

"I don't think he meant it." Scorpius told her quietly. "About calling you a..."

"Perhaps. At this school, you have to understand that if you are caught uttering that word you will be instantly disciplined, maybe even suspended and eventually expelled." She said, shakily trying to grasp back some semblance of control. Scorpius nodded minutely.

"My Dad told me that you were the best witch at Hogwarts, even though your parents were muggles. I thought he liked you, that's why he wanted me to go here." Hermione suddenly felt wretched.

The interview continued in a bleak fashion, Scorpius giving non committal answers to all the standard questions, Hermione barely listening to them, as the argument with Malfoy whirled through her head. As time went on and the white hot anger and indignation left Hermione, it was replaced by the awful, empty, feeling that maybe, she had been in the wrong. Ridiculously, she didn't even agree with what she had been saying. She found wizarding traditions fascinating, and was even thinking of introducing a class here that taught them. Strangely, what Malfoy had been saying even rang true. Most of the time she was disgusted by the things she heard on the muggle news, although, she reminded herself, that they were human mistakes, not just muggle ones. It was just that in the presence of Malfoy's terrible smirk she had felt sixteen again and that had brought back all the old feelings of not being quite good enough, of not fitting in and of it being totally out of her control. All she'd wanted to do was to wipe that look off his face. Malfoy had even known about her drunken muggle kiss, but didn't use it against her until the last moment after she had brought up his death eater history. Why had she done that? In front of his son! He might not even have known about his father's past.

Later that night she regaled the episode to Harry in his kitchen word for word over tea. She had memorised the interview just by way of obsessively re-living it in her mind. Harry seemed almost speechless.

"Well I'm thinking that you may have started to fuck things up when you called wizards lazy." He said, slowly.

"But they are!" She wailed

"But Hermione, you don't say that to someone like him. Remember his upbringing- even without all the blood purity crap. You need to have to carefully chose the words you use. You can be too... blunt, sometimes. I'm sorry." She nodded, squirming yet again as she re-lived the conversation.

"What was he like? I mean, before you drove him out of your office?" she winced.

"Different... Very different. He clearly loves his son a lot. It was strange to see them together. Malfoy was so, human around him. I actually saw some genuine emotion. Scorpius was even teasing him about not having a TV and getting lost on the underground, it was quite, sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Well, it was nice to see that he's turned out OK."

"Despite clearly still being a bigot and nearly calling you a mudblood?"

Hermione shrugged. "Like I said, he didn't really call me that, and from what Scorpius said after, I'm not sure he still has the same views on muggleborns as he used to. I mean, he clearly thinks muggles are dirt, but I think he only called me a mudblood as a reaction to what I had said to him. He wouldn't be sending his son to us if he did still think we're beneath him."

"And he didn't instantly bring up the Daily Post piece to belittle or to use against you?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head. "Wow. Well I guess he has changed. I still don't understand why he's not sending Scorpius to Hogwarts." Harry added, pensively.

"Well I'd be surprised if he's is still signed up by tomorrow. Oh Harry, I really was horrible. I feel absolutely terrible over the whole thing. Malfoy must hate me for making him look like that in front of his son." She hid her face in her hands as Harry gazed at her.

"Why are you so worked up over this, Hermione? I understand you care about making a good impression on Scorpius, but you don't need to see Malfoy again after this. Unless..." He petered out. "You like him, don't you?"

"What?" Hermione whipped her head up and stared at him.

"This is why you're so upset that you fucked everything up. You wouldn't have cared in the past. Malfoy is being Malfoy after all. But you're genuinely upset!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" She snapped. "I'm upset because I managed to be provoked entirely too easily. I'm in my thirties, I'm not a teenager! I should be better than this. Even if all the trauma of this morning can be used as an excuse, I should be able to keep control and be professional. I'm going to come up against far worse people than Malfoy." She lapsed into silence and missed Harry's raised eyebrows as the memory of Malfoy's sincere smile of fatherly pride slid into focus, unbidden. 'He told me that you were the best witch at Hogwarts'. And then she looked down to the lurid, drunken photo of her in the paper that lay between their cups of tea on the table and felt shame engulf her again. She slammed her hand down on it with a wail. "Get this fucking thing away from me!" Harry hurriedly prised the paper from beneath her hand and banished it with a flick of his wand.

"There! All gone. And I'm going to speak to my lawyers about it in the morning, Hermione. Again, I'm so so sorry about that. I just can't believe that they managed to get to us at my own party. I trusted everyone there. I guess I was too naive to think that even my friends couldn't be immune from the right amount of gold from the WIP." Harry said morosely, for about the fifth time that evening. Hermione waved her hand.

"It's not your fault, it's mine. I should have known better than to lose my guard like that, particularly now I'm in this position. Luckily this time, the important people seem to have forgiven me for it. Apart from a few idiotic parents, but if they think they can do better home educating their child than I can, then good luck."

"But you should be able to have a bit of fun when you want it!" He protested. She shrugged and stood.

"Maybe, maybe not. We've all got to grow up eventually." She said pragmatically. He grunted in reply. Hermione gave his shoulder a pat and stretched. "I better head off. Got another big day tomorrow. We actually managed to pull it off today, despite everything! Got a load more kids signed up, which is fantastic. More interviews have been scheduled. I'm so relieved, Harry. I've got about forty kids due to start in September now. I'm feeling really good."

However, as she later lay in the dark, staring up at that ceiling, she did not feel good at all. She was so angry. How dare Harry imply that she liked him; to reduce how she was feeling to something akin to a teenage crush. She knew Draco Malfoy. Just because Azkaban and having a child may have mellowed him out, it didn't change who he was - a bigot. She remembered the hatred in his eyes he had directed at her this afternoon and had to force her own face not to screw itself up at the thought of it. The bewildering cycle of emotions flashed through her on a loop: Shame, guilt, anger, outrage. Outrage that Harry could imply she was that childish. Outrage that Malfoy could make her feel like that in her office, at her school... Like an overemotional teenager, rising to the bait like they were at school themselves. And then came the wash of guilt and sadness. Hermione knew she was upset that she hurt him but because for a moment, she had seen something in him that was so purely happy, and that shone with such pride for his son, and she had managed to ruin it. After everything they had gone through, all those years ago on opposing side of a war, they had managed to share a moment that transcended all of that. She had known for a split second he had changed. And then, she had fucked it up, with her uncontrollable mouth. I thought he liked you, Scorpius had said... And then the wretched shame. Oh god, saying those things in front of his son. After eight hours of the same jerky, disordered thoughts, things had become so confused and muddled, she barely knew what she was thinking anymore. This was something completely unfamiliar to Hermione. She buried her head in her pillow and screamed.