Spring had arrived at Grimmauld Place, banishing the grey skies and replacing them with a vibrant blue that seemed to even lift her grandmother's foul disposition. Hermione carefully gathered her small harvest of flowers in the crook of her arm and made her way back towards the imposing house. The Blacks had maintained an enchanted garden filled with magical plants that she was eager to study.
"Hermione, dear! There you are." The voice of her grandfather carried from the back of the house. Dressed in his dark robes, he made for an imposing figure as he patiently waited for her to reach him.
Careful not to drop her makeshift bouquet, she hurried her steps. "Grandfather, we haven't expected you today," she remarked.
The older man inclined his head. "I have some business with the Malfoys and thought you might want to join me," he said, the statement holding a hint of inevitability rather than a mere suggestion.
"If you wish me to, I'll be happy to accompany you," Hermione replied, though her half-hearted smile betrayed her scepticism. She wondered why her grandfather was so eager to have her by his side today.
Her grandfather rewarded her with a pleased tilt of his lips. "Excellent, it's high time you made some friends before you depart for Hogwarts."
So that's what he was after. She hadn't talked to Draco Malfoy since their encounter in Diagon Alley a few months ago, though Hermione distinctly remembered his exceptionally pale hair. Deep down, she wished for a female friend instead, but she was willing to give it a chance.
"I've already informed Walburga," her grandfather continued the pause after mentioning her grandmother but not her father hanging heavily in the air. "So, let us depart."
Hermione knew that Sirius had been frequently defying his relatives' orders and was still often out and about. One evening, she had overheard Arcturus threatening to send him back to Azkaban, which had escalated into another screaming match and an exchange of curses. The memory sent a flutter of discomfort through her heart.
"Of course, let me just quickly put these in a vase." Hermione pointed at her flowers. "Kreacher!" she called, summoning the house elf. "Would you mind taking care of these for me, please?" While she had grown used to having the ancient creature at her beck and call, she couldn't bring herself to treat him as unkindly as her grandmother did.
"Kreacher will put them in Mistress's room," the house-elf replied before both he and the flowers vanished into thin air with a snap.
"Marvellous, off we go then." Arcturus offered Hermione his arm, and in a second, they appeared at the gates of an imposing manor.
"The peacocks are a little much, but Lucius is just as vain as his father in that regard," her grandfather commented, noticing her barely concealed awe at the sight before them.
At the mention of the exotic birds, Hermione scanned the surroundings as they made their way towards the massive front door.
"To your right, near the lake," Arcturus guided her.
"Oh!" Finally catching sight of the white flock, Hermione felt a surge of excitement bubbling up in her chest. Perhaps befriending Malfoy wasn't such a bad idea after all if it meant she could spend her days in the vast grounds of his home.
"Why they still haven't fixed their floo systems is a mystery to me," her grandfather grumbled once they reached the stairs leading towards the manor. A house-elf greeted them and guided them inside, where the Malfoys welcomed them.
Hermione immediately recognized the haughty features of Narcissa Malfoy from the Black family tapestry. She had learned many things about her aunt's achievements – the only one of three sisters who had led a respectable life and even bore her husband an heir. Unfortunately, neither of her sisters had achieved that feat, with Bellatrix Black being imprisoned for life and Andromeda banished from the family. Hermione was appalled by the sheer amount of awfulness that oozed from every crevice of her family's crumbling pretence of grandeur. No matter where she looked, the stories of the members of her house were tainted, stained to the last thread.
"Lord Black, I'm honoured to welcome you to our home," Mr. Malfoy said, extending his arms in a welcoming gesture.
"Good to see you again, boy," Arcturus drawled before his hand landed on Hermione's left shoulder. "I've brought my granddaughter with me today."
Hermione didn't miss how the older Malfoy's smile tightened. "Ah, yes. Hermione, was it? A pleasure to meet you again. You already know my son, Draco, and this is my wife, Narcissa."
Hermione forced a polite smile. "The pleasure is all mine. You have a wonderful home," she recited the pleasantries Walburga had instilled in her mind.
"Oh, aren't you a dear?" Narcissa Malfoy practically cooed at her.
Uncertain about how to behave around the woman, Hermione chose to offer another polite smile.
Finally, it was Draco's turn to approach her. "Good to see you again, Black," he greeted her with a nod of his head. Extending his hands, he continued, "May I show you around the house?"
Slightly taken aback by the politeness of the young boy, Hermione caught her grandfather's approving nod before following Draco. The two ascended a grand set of stairs while Draco pointed out various portraits they passed.
"And that's my great-great-grandfather who built this manor," Draco informed her.
Hermione inclined her head, eager to learn more. Draco was quite different from the boys she had known at her previous school. He wasn't as warm as Harry, but he also wasn't unkind in the least. Other boys had always teased her about her teeth and bushy hair, but Draco had made no such remarks. He had even held the door open for her on their way.
"What do you usually do in your spare time?" he interrupted her thoughts.
Hermione chewed her lips in thought. "Reading, I suppose? I also quite enjoy our garden." She looked at Draco and then asked, "How about you?"
"Quidditch. I always play it with my mates," her blonde companion explained eagerly.
She had heard about the sport from Sirius and Harry but never quite found the appeal in it. Then again, she wasn't particularly interested in Muggle football or rugby either. Keen to change the topic, she pointed towards the tall doors at the end of the hallway. "What's in there?"
Draco smirked. "See for yourself."
As they drew closer, the doors swung open to reveal the most stunning library Hermione had ever laid eyes on.
"Wow," she whispered in awe, craning her neck to take it all in. Rows upon rows of towering shelves stretched out before them, seemingly endless. The air itself felt saturated with magic, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end as she entered.
"The Malfoys have the largest private collection of magical texts on the Isles," Draco boasted as he led her towards a polished wooden table.
Hermione was rendered speechless as she sat down across from the boy, completely captivated by the boundless knowledge that surrounded them. How could he even think about Quidditch when he had access to all this? She would have gladly spent the rest of her days in this place.
Draco leaned back in his chair, a hint of pride in his voice. "I can ask my father if you can come over sometime to read. I'm sure he'd be happy to have you."
Hermione couldn't help but let a genuine smile grace her lips. "I'd be incredibly grateful if you did," she replied, her eyes scanning the library once more. "This place is absolutely amazing."
Draco chuckled in response. "You'd probably change your tune if you had to sit here every day for hours, getting yelled at by your tutor," he remarked.
She shook her head, her enthusiasm undiminished. "I doubt it. I could spend a lifetime here and still not grow tired of this library."
Draco laughed again and was about to say something else when a house-elf suddenly appeared at his side. "Dobby excuses the intrusion, but Master wishes to see the little Master immediately," the poorly dressed creature stammered.
Rolling his eyes, Draco sighed. "This is probably about Theo wanting to stay here. I'll be back in a minute."
Hermione waved him off. "No worries, I certainly won't get bored." In truth, her fingers itched to trace over the spines of the books behind her.
The blond boy excused himself, leaving Hermione alone. Dobby inquired if she needed anything else, but the young witch quickly dismissed the elf, feeling a bit uncomfortable in his presence.
Finally, on her own, she took a deep breath, savouring the scent of old books and dried ink that filled the air. After a moment, she got up and began to wander through the narrow corridors between the shelves. Her eyes roamed over the weathered spines of countless books she passed, greedily absorbing every title for future reference. When she stumbled upon the section on ancient runes, her heart skipped a beat at the broad selection of first editions before her. She skimmed through a few tomes before selecting an unassuming leather-bound book. It had no title, and the only thing printed at the very bottom of the cover was a faded name. Squinting to read it, she whispered aloud, "To... Tom Riddle." Hermione pondered how this man's notebook ended up here. Perhaps he had forgotten it, and the house-elves had mistakenly placed it on the shelves?
However, something inside her stopped her from returning the book to its spot. "Maybe I should ask Draco," she thought, but a sudden chill ran down her spine. Hermione didn't want to share her discovery with the other boy.
With a determined huff, she opened the book, only to find its pages completely empty. They were stained yellow but still in good condition. Taking a deep breath, Hermione returned to her seat at the table and selected one of the feathers neatly arranged next to a few inkwells at the centre. Something seemed to call out to her, urging her to mark those pristine pages.
~This book now belongs to Hermione Black~
Before she could stop herself, her hand was already moving, and in the blink of an eye, she watched her words fade into the paper.
To her surprise, something else appeared in their place.
~Hello Hermione, pleased to meet you. I'm Tom~
Xoxo