Chapter 6

When Hermione woke up early the next morning, she was herself again. It seemed wrong to be in the manor, her filthy blood and all. That made it ironic. And mad. And fitting. A glance at the grandfather clock next to the fireplace and it was 5am, far too early to seek out Draco to begin their experimenting. She wouldn't particularly want to, given where in the manor she would have to tread. She'd just wait for him or his mother, and spend as little time as possible walking around with Daphne Greengrass' face.

She instead began unpacking the few belongings she'd brought with her. A few books, rolls of parchment and a journal found their home at the large, opulent desk. Her clothes went into the dresser, firmly separated from Daphne's garments. The other items were neatly placed on the mantle, several delicately wrapped packages sent by her parents. She wasn't sure how Christmas worked in the Manor but she would be opening them on the day when she had a moment alone, if she had a moment alone. How she missed Crookshanks. It would have blown her cover to bring him so he would be prowling the halls of Hogwarts for two weeks and she would be prowling the halls of Malfoy Manor.

She took a moment to finally take everything in, something she hadn't done since her first encounter with Draco. She was well and truly an orphan, drifting between states of denial, deep disturb, and mourning. What made it all the more difficult was that her parents, the people who believed they were her parents, were still living and breathing and expecting a wonderful summer break in France with their daughter. The worst part was that she couldn't cry. There were no tears, no screams of anguish. Deep inside herself she could feel not just acceptance but peace, the feeling of rightness she last remembered when she'd found out she was a witch.

Hermione took a deep breath and shook herself out of her thoughts and prepared herself for the day, keeping a vial of polyjuice on hand for the inevitable moment she had to enter the central wing of the manor. The strangest part was going through someone else's clothing, especially when one wasn't sure it would fit. The clothes were likely enchanted, the same way her dress for the Yule ball had been, but that one static truth of her usual clothing made it all the more unsettling.

The clothes were flashy and ostentatious but far more in line with muggle fashion than Hermione had ever anticipated. She remembered all of the robes and hats of her first visit to diagon alley and assumed that she would be dressing like professor mcgonagall but instead she was met with silks; cashmere, velvet and mulberry, all in various shades of green and black. There were the odd pieces that opposed the slytherin theme, a deep red dress that looked cut far too dangerously for her to even consider wearing, a singular white shirt that seemed to match whatever skirt it wanted, and a yellow dress, simple and soft.

Hermione bit her lip and drummed her fingers against the wardrobe door, beginning to wonder just how she would be expected to dress. If only Daphne's clothes had come with a detailed manual.

A gentle knock drifted from the door and Hermione abandoned her search for clothing, just glad she'd fallen asleep fully clothed.

'Mrs Malfoy.' Hermione smiled, opening the door wide for the older woman to enter.

'None of that in this wing my dear, you can call me Narcissa.' She gently patted Hermione's arm and took a few steps into the room, only progressing further when Hermione did. It must have been some form of politeness that Hermione had never learned. 'Tooley stopped by my room to let me know you'd been staring into the wardrobe for some time. Would you like some help?'

Hermione released a sigh and relaxed her shoulders. 'That would be lovely.'

'Shall we start with day wear?'

What felt like the next hour was filled with the complex rules of the appropriate pure blood dress code. Day wear could be comprised of blouses and walking skirts, formal shirts and pencil skirts, any number of dresses that ranged from sun to very near formal that all depended on the occasion. To Hermione's despair none of it involved trousers. Day wear was appropriate for an informal dinner but formal dining required a very specific subset of formal gowns that were accompanied by matching gloves and jewels, gloves to be removed while eating.

Events were a whole separate class, private balls would see similar dress to formal dinners, though those dresses had far more intricate beading and fabric work. A public event, a charity gala or the upcoming Yule celebration being hosted at the ministry was where the boundaries of fashion could be explored and where the low cut, tight red gown would come into play.

'While you won't be expected to attend on the ministry's part, myself, my son and my husband have all been invited and it is expected of us to extend that invitation to you as our guest.' Narcissa explained, tucking the dress back into the wardrobe. 'Miss Greengrass's family would usually be in attendance if not for the trip to Belgium so you will have to attend with us.'

Hermione nodded idly, her mind still categorising everything she'd just heard. She stood hesitantly from the chaise and approached the wardrobe once more, determined to put her mind to use where instinct had failed.

'Will dinner this evening be formal or informal?' She asked, surveying her options.

'Informal.' Narcissa answered. 'Though it will be with my husband. He usually attends the night Draco returns home but won't be making frequent appearances after tonight.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. 'A walking skirt and blouse should be the most suitable. Deep pockets for my wand, the polyjuice and a book or two. Formal enough that your husband shouldn't take insult but informal enough to show my comfort in your home.'

'Wonderful.' Narcissa smiled. 'I think you'd require minimal tutelage to blend seamlessly into society life.'

'Let's just hope I won't be needing to do that too soon.' She smiled weakly, arranging the appropriate accessories and shoes for the day.

'I'll have Draco summoned to the sun room for breakfast at seven and then we can see to your family magic.'

'Thank you Narcissa.' Hermione smiled as she drifted out of the room, leaving her 15 minutes to dress and make her way through the labyrinth that was the manor to make it to the sun room.

As Hermione suspected, all of Daphne's clothing was enchanted. As she stepped into the skirt, the fabric shifted ever so gently to perfectly fit, as did the shirt and the shoes. It was one of the strangest sensations she'd ever experienced. And she'd spent almost too long remarking on it.

Hermione sped through the house as gracefully as she could, retracing her steps from the night before to make it to the sun room on time. She slowed her pace as she rounded the final corner, determined to seem as collected as she could. She could hear footsteps from around the corner and saw Draco making his way toward her, or rather the door they were both heading toward.

'Good morning Hermione.' He smiled, keeping his voice low so the words wouldn't carry. 'How did you sleep?'

'Surprisingly well.' She smiled. 'I'm sure you're happy to be home despite the unnamed house guest.'

'The unwelcome ones certainly put a damper on things.' He remarked, a smile still on his face.

'Let's not keep your mother waiting shall we.' Having suddenly realised they had been stood still at the sun room door.

'Ladies first.' He smiled, opening the door for her.

'Thank you.' Hermione walked inside to find Narcissa smirking at the table, pouring herself a cup of tea.

'Should the two of you continue lingering outside of doors together then I'm definitely drawing up a contract.' She smirked as the two of them took their seats. 'I do hope you're up for a green this morning.'

The look of disgust on Draco's face reminded Hermione of her not-parents, bickering over which type and which blend on their days off.

'Tooley will be back in a few minutes to take breakfast orders.'

The room sat quietly as tea was poured and looks were exchanged, namely Narcissa's glances between Hermione and Draco.

'Please just ask your questions mother, your eyes are going to become fatigued.' Draco finally sighed, dropping his cup to its saucer.

'Is there something going on between you?'

Hermione choked on her tea.

'I hate to be the one to ask such things but I am rather suspicious as to how Draco came to know of your magic and decided to involve himself.'

Hermione and Draco shared an alarmed glance much to the satisfaction of his mother.

'We're not involved.' Draco rolled his eyes. 'I simply noticed her failing to perform at her usual standard and wanted to find out why.'

Narcissa seemed displeased by his answer but didn't press, taking another sip of tea.

To Hermione's relief, Tooley arrived and the conversation turned to their meal. Narcissa requested a fish broth and several other items she'd apparently been introduced to by another family, Draco rather boringly requested toast and Hermione found herself at a loss of what to ask for. 'Porridge I suppose.' She requested, still uncomfortable with the idea of being waited on by house elves and deeply disappointed that she'd let S.P.E.W slip her mind in all of this magic business.

Breakfast was quickly served and they ate in an uncomfortable silence.

'Which branches of magic have you tested so far?' Narcissa suddenly asked.

'We've exhausted every still surviving expression so we're hoping to begin with ones extinct.' Draco answered.

'What methodology have you used so far?'

'Alphabetical.'

'Surely more thought could have been put in than that.'

'We'll we've avoided the innate magics thus far.'

'It wouldn't do to simply ignore the other expressions.'

'We'll if her magic was innate then she would have displayed it during her childhood.'

'That's still no excuse to avoid being thorough.'

The conversation went back and forth for several minutes, both of them arguing in circles until they both, eventually, arrived at the same conclusion.

'I suppose extinct magics are our last option to search through.' Narcissa finally conceded, somehow having been able to finish her food during the discussion.

'I was planning on arranging them in some order of likelihood but I'm not certain where to start. The magics are extinct for a reason.'

'Start with the more secretive lines first. Peverell, Ravenclaw, Merlin. Then I suppose moving through the other founders would be a logical place to continue.'

And that was exactly what they did. Hours were spent leaving through the books and arranging countless different lists on numerous sheets of parchment. They took lunch in the library and by the time Dinner came along they were still fretting over the order of priority.

Hermione found herself suddenly anxious about the prospect of having dinner with Lucius Malfoy, a man she'd been all too happy to pretend didn't exist.

'You don't need to fret about a thing.' Narcissa soothed. 'The Greengrasses may be pure blood but have mixed with half bloods in the past. They didn't work with him during the war so Lucius knows very little about the family. You're free to just be yourself.'

'Maybe not too much like yourself though.' Draco warned. 'He may never have met Daphne Greengrass but he has met you.'

Hermione knew they were simply trying to help but she was beginning to think that coming to the manor was a mistake.

'He shouldn't ask too many personal questions but if he does, try to answer vaguely.' Narcissa patted her hand. 'It's not uncommon for old families to want to preserve their secrets.'

'You'll do fine Hermione, and if you start to worry, we can help you out.' Draco shared a knowing look with his mother and began packing away their things.

'Come along Miss Greengrass.' Narcissa took Hermione's arm with a nod to her pocket.

With a deep breath Hermione took out the vial and drank deep, feeling the same uncomfortable sensation she remembered from the last time she'd drunk such a potion, only this time she hopefully wouldn't turn into a cat.

'Dinner won't last longer than an hour but I've arranged for Lucius to receive an owl from the ministry to give you time to drink again.'

Right, the timer. She'd almost let it slip her mind. Almost.