Hermione hadn't written about the conversation just yet.
It had been some days, but she was still puzzling through what Lucius Malfoy had told her. She'd written it all on a parchment to start sorting through her thoughts, and what she might write to her professor, but it was so much. Every time she began, she felt that looming terror just around the bend, ready to overwhelm her.
Instead she'd written about her day as usual, with a brief paragraph alluding to her conversation with Narcissa.
She hadn't seen Lucius since.
She prayed she didn't see him any time soon.
"Hermione, there you are." She shut the door to her room, jumping slightly when Draco's voice pierced the silence. "I got a letter from Potter. Why didn't you tell me he'd invited us to Godric's Hollow?"
She was confused for a second, until recollection flooded in and she had to laugh at herself. "Oh, that. Yes." She shrugged and they began walking in-step toward her destination, which was the library, of course. "I probably would have remembered at some point. How did you find out?"
"Father and I ran into Potter and Potter, Senior, at the ministry yesterday. He mentioned you hadn't answered yet."
"Oh. Well, what do you think?"
Was she imagining it, or was Draco suddenly taller than the last time they'd walked this hall together?
It was so strange to think on. They'd done this hundreds, if not thousands, of times. She'd been taller when she was six, though he slowly caught up and then surpassed her, and now she felt dwarfed by the breadth and height of his shoulders.
"I think it could be brilliant, though a week is a bit much. Perhaps a long weekend?" His smile was infectious, and she returned it.
"Do you think your father and mother will allow it?"
He snickered as though amused by a secret. "Allow it? Hermione, father has been trying to gain footing with the Potters for ages. The family didn't much care until Fleamont Potter took over. He invented Sleekeazy, you know. Then they suddenly had money, and they'd always done well enough in wizarding society, but they weren't aligned with anyone politically."
"So because Harry's family has money as well as an old name, now the Malfoys want an alliance with them?" Wizarding politics was ridiculous.
He shrugged those strong new shoulders. "We have some of the best potioneers in Europe. If the Potters agreed to work with us, we could further develop it, but the recipe is a closely guarded secret held only by the potioneering family Fleamont Potter contracted to go into business originally."
"I suppose that's a good point. Still, it's just one potion." They reached the library and she laid the books in her arms on the return shelf. They dematerialized to their rightful spots. "Anyway, what does this have to do with us visiting Harry?"
Draco's small smile grew and opened to show his teeth. "Because father is all-too-happy to have us on good terms with the future head of the Potter family. If I, as his son, become friends with Harry, the future Potter leader, that will bode well for future endeavors. So he agreed without question."
Hermione laughed, a clear and happy sound. The idea of visiting her friends, of getting out of this stuffy manor (which was actually quite palatial and lovely) was perfect. Just the respite she needed. "When do we go?"
"Write Potter and ask."
"Oh, because I'm your servant now?" she quipped, then realized how it may have sounded, and she didn't want to make Draco feel guilty or—
"More like my boss," he retorted. "I would never dare to set a date without your knowledge, or you might hex me."
"Too right. I'll send him an owl." Hermione slid into her usual seat and accio'd parchment, quill and ink. Her handwriting was small, neat, and pretty enough for femininity without enough flare to make it obnoxious. After a decade, she was adept at scribing without splotching ink across her letters and ruining legibility. Still, a part of her mourned the wizarding world's refusal to use proper pens.
It was the work of a few minutes to compose a proper message, complete with pleasantries and a few friendly words, before asking him where welcome and the details they might need to know ahead of time. She took it straight away to the owlery and had the little charcoal bird that was her personal favorite carry it out the window.
Response arrived within a few hours, and Hermione suppressed a giggle at the urgency Harry had felt to give reply.
Hermione,
Come Thursday and stay as long as you like. Come tomorrow, if you really want.
You should be able to Floo straight to our place— Potter House, Godric's Hollow. Dad set it up to receive from Malfoy Manor, which he's been grumbling about since hols started, btw. Don't mind him. He's happy to have you, and I think he even likes Draco.
Don't tell him I said that.
Either of them.
Anyway, you're welcome to bring the badger, but you are always good to come on your own. Any day, any time. For any reason.
Can't wait!
Sincerely,
Harry
It was such a ridiculous, perfectly Harry letter. Hermione held it to her chest, fondness easing the tension she'd felt since returning to the manor.
She would count the hours until she could see him.
It was good that Thursday was only a few days away, or she'd have gone mad from anticipation. By the morning of, she was downstairs with her trunk and ready to go before Draco had finished his morning tea.
"You're so anxious," he commented. "It's ridiculous. You know the Floo isn't going anywhere, right?"
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm excited. Why are you taking forever?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Forgive me for wanting to take my time while we are on holiday from school, and father is allowing me to take a break from shadowing his every move."
"Yes, yes, the life of the Malfoy heir is so tiring," she lamented mockingly.
"Woe is me." Draco laid the back of his empty hand against his forehead. "To see what I have seen—"
"To see what I see," she finished with him, before both laughed.
After what felt like an hour, but was ten minutes at most, Draco set aside his cup and rose to his feet. While Hermione tapped her foot anxiously against the marble floor, her near-brother stretched heaven-ward to let his joints pop and loosen, palmed either side of his neck in a mini-massage, and took a deep, centering breath. "Well, I suppose that's it, then."
"Where is your mother?" she asked as they finally set out for the drawing room.
"Awaiting us by the fireplace."
The woman stood with a grace even the white peacocks of the garden couldn't match. Her long hair was loose and her pale blue eyes were kind as she smiled at the teens. "I only get you both twice a year, and for such a short period, and now you're both leaving me to see school friends." She sighed, but then gave a musical laugh. "Oh, to be young again."
Hermione stepped into her embrace and Narcissa placed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Be well, my dear. Have fun with your friends, but mind those boys keep their manners."
"I will, Narcissa. Thank you." There was warmth between them at casual use of the woman's name.
Then the slender woman turned to her son, and her arms coiled more tightly, laid her head against his. He was taller than she was now, though only by an inch or two. It made her seem more frail than Hermione was used to, and she watched on with all the reticence of an outsider.
Narcissa murmured to her son, bent his head to kiss his crown, and stepped away, surveying the pair with that wistful, loving smile.
Hermione nodded and reached for the ceramic that held sooty powder, tossed a handful into the flames, and said surely, "Potter House, Godric's Hollow," and stepped into an emerald fire.
The nauseating dizziness of Floo travel ended in her stumbling out of the flames and into the chest of—
A stranger.
Hermione jolted back with a suppressed shriek. The man frowned, but allowed space to grow between them.
He was older, perhaps around Mr. and Mrs. Potters' age, and handsome in a rather scruffy way, with facial hair between just unshaven and a short beard, and long black hair tied in a low ponytail. His eyes were almost familiar, grey, and he was on the tall side.
"You must be Hermione."
She frowned and was about to speak when the fire flared green and Draco stepped through. He glanced between the unknown man and Hermione and said, "Er, Hello."
The man turned those grey eyes toward her friend. "No question about you being Draco. You're the spitting image of Narcissa. Well, if she were a boy."
That cinched it for her. "Sirius Black?"
The man favored her with a bright grin. "That I am, sweetheart. Welcome, both of you. Harry's still in bed, but he'll be up soon. Ron and his brothers are out back."
"Ronald's here?" She glanced around the room before snapping back toward Sirius. "Which brothers?"
The man ran a hand over the top of his hand to smooth back errant strands. "All of them, I think. Or most. Not that, that prissy one, what's's name—"
"Percy," she provided.
"Yeh, Percy. Not him. The rest're out there playing a pick-up game of Quidditch."
Draco tutted. "And no one to meet their guests?"
"Why d'you think I haven't gone out yet? I had to stay and greet the Hermione Granger and her pet badger Malfoy."
"What— pet? I am not a pet, I'm her friend," the teen argued while she gazed on, laughing.
"I dunno, the way you follow her around," said Sirius, "it seems you might be a puppy and not a badger."
"Watch what you're saying, old man. You don't know—"
Sirius began to chuckle which soon became a full-throated laugh. "We're cousin, you git. Ah, but you are most definitely your mother's son. How is Cissy, these days? I haven't seen her in a dog's age."
Draco was many things all at once, from what she could read in his features. He was perturbed, amused, confused, irritated, and— then he started laughing, too. "Mother's fine. So, you're the Gryffindor Black?"
"That I am. Let me show you to your rooms. Come along, then." He gestured them both toward the stairs and up to the second floor.
The Potter house was nowhere near manor size, but it apparently held a suite for the man and woman of the house (the only bedroom on the first floor), a room for both their son and daughter, and three guest rooms. Sirius has the attic outfitted all for him.
"You will be staying in this room, Hermione, all on your own. Harry tried to say the two of you could share a room, but Lils nearly had conniptions at the thought."
The pair exchanged glances. While they would probably be fine sharing space, it would be awkward, as they had never done more than nap together. They were both immensely grateful for Lily Potter's intervention.
"And Draco, lad, you'll be here. There is a shared bathroom between the two, this door right here. I'm sure you can manage, yeh?" the man asked.
"We'll be fine, Mr. Black, thank you," she said.
Sirius staggered, hand flying to his chest as though cursed. "Ooof. For Merlin's sake, Hermione, don't call me that. It's Sirius. Just Sirius. This is not a laughing matter."
And at the ridiculous pun he'd made of his name, Hermione giggled. "Sirius, then."
"I will leave the two of you to get comfortable, and you may find me outside."
They watched him walk away and then Draco shook his head. "Mother said he was a terrible lech growing up. Watch yourself, Hermione."
"Please, Draco. He's harmless. And kind of funny."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he droned, and went into his temporary room.
It only took a few minutes for Hermione to get a feel for the little place and put her things away for ease of use, then she and her little purse were out in the hall to meet Draco.
"Are you ready to face a hoard of Weasleys?" he asked her.
"No, but let's do it anyway."
Charlie, Fred (or George— but he was wearing his Christmas sweater, which bore a large F), and Ron were on one team while George (or Fred, but he was in his matching sweater with its bright G), Bill, and Sirius were on the other. What they'd done before Sirius joined in, she didn't know. She'd honestly expected Ginny to be in attendance, but the girl's omission wasn't an oversight.
The group landed at the appearance of the new guests.
"Blimey, it's good to see you." Ron wrapped her in a rough hug, then exchanged one of those strange male greetings that wasn't quite an embrace with Draco.
Left hands landed on her shoulders and tugged her backwards. "What about us?" asked one twin.
"We missed you, too," said the other.
She laughed and threw an arm around each. "Fred, George. It's good to see you both." It seemed, though it was almost impossible to be one hundred percent certain, they were wearing the correct sweaters this time.
"You've grown up a bit since I last saw you."
Her face flushed red as she turned toward the curse breaker.
He and Charlie were the Weasleys who were closest, other than the twins, and the ones she knew the least, though they were like two sides of the same coin.
Bill was the tallest of the entire family, perhaps Tom's height, maybe taller. And he was lean, but had muscle cording his tanned skin. His red hair was long and pulled back, and his bright blue eyes mirrored the sky. He was entirely too handsome, in trousers and a button down that was half undone— the sleeves rolled to show strong forearms.
Charlie was the shortest brother now that Ron had caught up, stockier, but also strong and tanned. His hair was longer, shaggy, and just barely too short to pull back like his brother's. He had stripped off his shirt entirely, used to far cooler weather than they had at the moment.
"Hello," she said timidly. And wanted to kick herself.
Why, she lamented, did the oldest Weasleys make her feel so awkward and warm and squirmy? It was unfair. "I hear you're teaching at Hogwarts next year, Charlie."
"And I hear only my little sister is going to attend my classes, alas." He grinned to belie the words. "I understand you're taking practically every other class, though."
"Nine is hardly all of them," she countered.
Bill and Charlie exchanged surprised expressions. "Nine," the elder repeated. "That's twice as many as a typical class load."
"Yes," she agreed. "But I managed eleven until now."
"I think you're the most terrifying girl I've ever met," said Bill, and she nearly choked on her laughter.
"Because I like school?"
"Because you're too brilliant, and have too much will power to be an ordinary human being," was his answer.
She flushed hotly. "I— I just like studying."
"Do you? I couldn't tell, what with all the books you carry everywhere. Say, how many are you hiding in your little bag there?"
The fact that he'd called her out on her enchanted purse just furthered her embarrassment. It wasn't the same sort Lucius Malfoy made her feel, which was shameful and lowly, but instead one that bubbled up like laughter and made her feel a little like she might be flying, and perhaps it wasn't so bad after all.
"Oi. Stop teasing the poor girl and get back on your broom, you flirt." Charlie elbowed his brother and nodded toward the others, who were mounting their own brooms.
Draco had taken Sirius' to join as the third member of Bill's little team. She settled on a little bench under the shade of an enormous tree to watch.