Monday, 21 December 1998
The dining room was extremely quiet. Crookshanks had disappeared to the living room an hour earlier, as though he could feel that the conversation that was going to follow shortly after his departure would be difficult and tense. Hermione was nervously rubbing her hands together in her lap, too restless to sit completely still. On the other side of the table sat her parents, her mother with her face buried in her hands, her father with one hand on her mother's shoulder. He sat motionless, staring at the table with unseeing eyes. She wanted so badly to say something, to offer words of comfort, but she knew she couldn't. What she had just shared could not be taken back. They had to know and they had to learn to live with this new knowledge.
After what seemed like an eternity, her mother's hands lowered and a teary-eyed face appeared. She accepted the handkerchief her husband offered her and gently dried her red eyes. Her father studied his wife's face for a moment and then turned to his daughter.
"Okay," he said carefully, his voice sounding surprisingly composed, "if I may just summarise. There was a man with hatred for non-magical people like us and magically gifted children with no magical background like you. He split his soul in to a number of pieces—kept separate from his body—to achieve some sort of immortality so that he could rule the Wizarding World and keep children like you out of it. His rise to power started a war between him and those who agreed with his ideas, and those who opposed. There was a prophecy that predicted that your friend Harry would be the one to end this immortality and so this man went after Harry in the hopes of killing him." Her father paused, and Hermione could tell he was trying to make sense of what he had just heard.
"Skinny, bespectacled Harry…" her mother muttered distantly. She was staring at the fruit bowl that sat in the center of the dinner table, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.
"You didn't go back to school and instead went with Harry and Ron on a secret mission to find those pieces of that man's soul to end his immortality," her father continued. "You modified the memories of your mother and myself so that we wouldn't remember you, and you enlarged our desire to emigrate to Australia, hoping we would leave so we could not be used as a target against you." Her mother started sobbing again, one hand pressed against her face as she tightly grabbed her husband's hand with the other in an attempt to seek comfort. He softly ran his thumb over the back of her hand before glancing up at his daughter again.
"You three succeeded in eliminating all those soul pieces and your friend Harry managed to defeat this man, ending the war. He and Ron are now members of the magical equivalent of the Secret Intelligence Service to track down all those who committed crimes on that man's behalf during the war, while you decided to finish your education in the hopes of joining the magical Ministry next year so you can help improve the law."
Hermione looked up at her father and nodded in silence. In the living room, the large grandfather clock struck eight times. Her mother would normally be in front of the television by now, watching her favourite soap opera. It seemed like such a silly way to pass time right now.
"Hermione, did you lose people you knew?"
The question somehow came unexpectedly and took her breath away like a blow to her stomach. She swallowed with effort and then nodded again. Her father reached across the table, asking for her hand without using the words. Hermione took his hand and reached into the back pocket of her jeans with her other hand, taking her wand.
"Don't be startled," she warned softly as she pointed the wand towards the open door, non-verbally Summoning the crumpled and tear-stained Daily Prophet from the desk in her bedroom. It quickly and quietly flew through the dining room and landed in front of Hermione on the table. She put her wand down next to it and opened the newspaper on the bookmarked page before turning it around so that her parents could read the names mentioned on the memorial list. After a brief silence, in which her parents scanned the contents of the page—seemingly both taken aback by the many, many names on the list—Hermione started talking.
She told her parents about the ever kind and polite Cedric Diggory, who had been the first person she personally knew to be a casualty during this war. She told them about the wise and brilliant Professor Dumbledore, about fun-loving Tonks and compassionate Remus, even after all the discrimination and prejudice he'd had to endure, and Tonks' good-natured father, Ted. She told them about the heartbreakingly young Colin Creevey and about Sirius, wrongly-accused and cynical but still loving and kind. She even told them about Professor Snape and his bravery and about Dobby, the wonderful free elf. Finally, she told them about Fred, outgoing, mischievous and intelligent Fred, with the tears rolling over her face, unrestrained and plentiful.
She talked about the people that had almost died at the hands of Death Eaters, like Bill and Lavender and the kidnapped Luna, lovely loony Luna, and the ever-optimistic Dean, who was hunted by Snatchers for not knowing if his father was magical or not. She spoke of Harry's parents' sacrifice and Mrs Weasley's brothers. She talked about the little Teddy Lupin, who was left an orphan, and about his grandmother who had lost her husband and daughter but still chose to raise her grandson by herself.
After she had introduced her parents to all these people through her stories, all three of them had tears falling from their eyes. Both her parents had taken one of her hands to hold and though Hermione was crying harder than she had in months, she felt happy to have finally shared the most difficult parts of her life with her parents. They finally knew what she had done and what she had been through, how she had grown as a person and why.
Once she had calmed down a little, Hermione took another deep breath. "The whole War can be traced back to prejudice," she started. "Old Wizarding families have kept to themselves for decades, centuries even, and they don't see people like me as one of them because I wasn't raised like them. They see me as a liability because I opened their world, as they see it, to non-magical folk like you. It makes them feel vulnerable because they don't understand the non-magical world. The stories you've heard about the witch-hunts in the Middle Ages... They really happened and on a far larger scale than you can imagine. Because of this, the two worlds are kept separate." Pausing for a moment, Hermione tried to think of a way to get to her point.
"Our Headmistress, Professor McGonagall—you've met her, remember? She was the one who visited when I was ten years old, to tell us I'm a Witch and what that meant. Well, she is trying to do what she can to eliminate the mindset that magical folk and non-magical folk are as different as they think they are."
Her mother wiped her eyes, looking somewhat calmer. "Is that why you've invited one of your classmates over later this week?"
She nodded at her mother. "Yes. He is from an old Wizarding family and he was raised to believe that magical folk are better than non-magical folk. He has always really disliked me because I'm from non-magical parents, but perhaps even more because I always do so well in class, which is not according to the things he was told growing up. I think I've always been a walking contradiction to him. He used to bully me because of it. He kind of used to bully everyone, though."
"I'm not sure if I feel comfortable opening up our home to a bully," her mother said indignantly, a disapproving frown on her brows.
"We will never be friends," Hermione admitted, "but he has shown that he is not incapable of personal development and he is starting to become more open-minded. I have worked a lot with him this semester since he was appointed Head Boy, and Professor McGonagall has personally asked me to do this. I don't want to let her down, and if I can help get rid of a little bit of prejudice in the world, I would like to do that, even though I don't like the person."
Her father smiled proudly. "I think that's a wonderful mindset. I hope we can do our part."
Crookshanks meowed from underneath the table, indicating he wanted to be part of the company again. Hermione pushed her chair backwards, giving her cat the necessary space to be able to jump onto her lap. Crookshanks rubbed his head affectionately against her arms and chest before settling down, purring softly.
The conversation took a more light-hearted turn about the upcoming holidays and Hermione's plans during her two weeks off of school, the new neighbours down the street and eventually the dramatic episode that aired the previous night of her mother's favourite soap opera. Her parents relocated to the living room shortly after to see if there was something entertaining on the television, leaving Hermione alone to cuddle with Crookshanks and to fully appreciate the loss of the enormous weight that had been on her shoulders. The hard truth was out, and her parents had been more understanding than she could have hoped.
They were going to be okay.
Thursday, 24 December 1998
Hermione stood nervously next to an old red telephone booth, with behind her a small but lovely park. Through the middle of the park ran a narrow pathway lined with wooden benches and numerous trees that formed a natural-grown arch over it. It was a lovely green oasis, even in winter. Hermione had grown quite fond of this place, mostly because she rarely ever saw other people here, which, combined with the fact that nature had created a nicely concealed spot here, made it a perfect Apparition place. It was also only a five-minute walk from her home. Because of all this, she had proposed this to be her meeting point with Malfoy.
In the distance the church bells rang, revealing it to be noon. When it rang for the fourth time, a soft pop sounded, only to be noticed by someone who was listening and waiting for it, announcing the arrival of another person. Gathering her courage, Hermione stepped forward, peeking around the phone booth and into the park.
Malfoy stood in the middle of the pathway, a contemptuous frown on his face as he took in his new surroundings. He was dressed completely in black, in stark contrast to his white-blond hair and his pale skin. Impressed, Hermione noted that he was not wearing a robe, but dress pants and a woollen coat. She took a deep breath and carefully made her way over to where he was standing. His eyes darted around the park until they found her, and stood motionless until she reached him.
"Arrived in one piece?" she asked awkwardly.
The Head Boy's frown deepened as he looked her up and down. "Just fine," he replied curtly. "Where are we?"
"Hampstead Village," Hermione answered shortly. "Greater London." When he didn't respond to her, she sighed and started moving. "This way," she announced, making her way through the arch of trees. "I hope you're familiar with cars."
As they exited the park and reached the sidewalk, she discovered that he most certainly wasn't familiar with the Muggle vehicles. The first cars drove by, visibly startling Malfoy, and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle as his composure cracked and showed his bewilderment. He glared at her in response, but it didn't dull her mirth.
They crossed the street to the right-side sidewalk of the next street and awkwardly walked in silence as Malfoy attempted—and failed—to stifle his curiosity. He openly looked around, viewing the houses they passed.
She lived in quite an affluent residential area with several beautiful, large houses. Her parents had always been dentists, which was a very well-paying job with a steady future. People would always need dental care, after all. Compared to Malfoy Manor, her own home was probably the size of just one wing. In its own right, however, it was a rather sizable house, especially for three people. Hermione had really loved growing up there; she had never run out of hiding places. The garden surrounding the house was also large enough that she could lose Crookshanks for an entire day, even though he was unable to leave the property due to the fact that it was made Unplottable.
They rounded a corner to the right and walked just a bit further until Hermione abruptly halted, reaching for a colourful ball that bounced their way. Two girls of about seven years old ran towards them, both laughing excitedly. "Hermione! Hermione!"
"Pass it to me, Hermione!" shouted the other girl cheerfully.
She laughed. "Hello Katie, hi Sarah!" she said, greeting the girls enthusiastically. "Careful of the cars, alright?"
The blonde Katie nodded solemnly. "Of course! Sarah just let the ball slip away."
"You threw it way too hard!" the strawberry-blonde Sarah protested with a pout. "It wasn't my fault!"
Hermione smiled as she handed the ball back to Sarah. "Here you go. Have fun! And tell your Mum and Dad I said hi!"
The young girls ran back down the street, waving, laughing and shouting at each other as they threw the ball at each other. Hermione looked around to find Malfoy standing right behind her, stiff and uncomfortable. "I used to babysit them, two years ago," she told him to break the silence, knowing he really didn't care.
"Fascinating," he replied sarcastically, confirming she was right.
They walked a little further, after which Hermione halted again. "We're here," she announced, and she handed him a piece of parchment with her address written on it. "Welcome to my home…"
She could pinpoint the exact moment Malfoy was able to see her house. The expression on his face went from utter disinterest to a mixture of slight approval and confusion. After taking two steps, Hermione turned around again, noticing Malfoy had not moved from his spot and was still frowning at her house.
"What's wrong?" she asked, confused.
Malfoy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, redirecting his frown at her. "Nothing. I just… I always assumed you to be of… well… modest means," he revealed stiffly.
"Thanks so much," she muttered sarcastically in response, feeling a little insulted. "I really hope you can find it in you to be nice," she continued seriously. "Even if you can't look past their blood status, please just remember that they are people. Human beings."
He stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but then he nodded, leaving her as satisfied as one could be in this situation. Hermione turned around and stuck the key in the front-door lock, ready to let them inside, when Malfoy suddenly put his hand on her arm. Startled, she pulled back her arm immediately, abandoning the key in the door. She looked up at him with suspicion, waiting.
"How much do they know about me?" he asked softly, and Hermione clearly recognised the suppressed anxiety in his tone.
"They know you dislike me because of my non-Magical lineage and upbringing," she answered him hesitantly but honestly. "They also know you bullied me because of that. They don't know about your… mistakes… during the War."
"My mistakes," Malfoy repeated scornfully. "Nicely put, Granger."
"Hermione," she replied softly. "I asked you to call me by my first name today," she reminded him when he raised his eyebrows at her, questioningly. "At least when we're with my parents."
"Right," was all he said in response. Hermione sighed and moved toward the door again, this time turning the key and unlocking the front door, pushing it open and stepping into the hallway, holding the door open so Malfoy could step inside after her. "Welcome," she muttered uncomfortably, closing the front door behind him.
"You can put your coat up here," she announced as she walked a little further, entering a slightly larger hallway. On the right-hand side was the staircase that led upstairs, with the coat rack hanging on the wall directly across from it. She took off her own coat and put it away, waiting for Malfoy to do the same.
The blond scanned the hallway as he seemed to search the inside pocket of his coat, and Hermione wondered what he was doing. Her question was answered almost immediately when Malfoy pulled a bottle of mulled mead from his magically extended pocket. He handed it to her wordlessly before taking off and putting away his coat, after which he, surprisingly gently, pulled it from her grip again. Hermione just stared at him in utter confusion.
"I'm not an animal, Granger," he hissed at her once he caught her stare, seemingly feeling insulted. "I may not want to be here but I do know what the polite thing to do is."
She simply shook her head in disbelief, crossing the hall to the second doorway on the left side, leading Malfoy into the drawing room. She slowly made her way to the dining room, directly adjacent on the right side, where she took another right turn, entering the kitchen.
Her parents were both standing behind the kitchen counter, chatting cheerfully to each other as they prepared lunch. Her mother was assembling a salad while her father was cutting sandwiches into halves. He then reached over, trying to sneak a slice of tomato from the bowl. Her mother playfully swatted his hand away, both of them chuckling.
"Mum, Dad," Hermione called out, drawing their attention to her. They turned in their direction, smiling expectantly. "This is Draco Malfoy, my classmate and fellow Head student," she introduced the Slytherin a little awkwardly.
Malfoy stepped forward to her parents, who walked up to him from behind the kitchen counter. Hermione was shocked to see that he was smiling politely as he shook their hands. "Pleased to meet you," he said, not a trace of contempt or hostility in his voice. "You have a lovely home. I hope you'll accept this as a token of gratitude for your hospitality." He gracefully offered the bottle of mead to her mother, who took it, smiling despite her earlier doubts.
"Lovely to meet you," she replied. "How thoughtful of you, thank you."
"We're not quite ready for lunch yet," said her father. "Hermione, why don't you give Draco a quick tour of the house while we finish up? We should be ready in ten to fifteen minutes."
She exited the kitchen and entered the dining room again with Malfoy in tow. "This is the dining room," she announced unnecessarily. Through here—" she moved forward, "—we have our drawing room, and in the next room, we have our living room." Hermione walked back into the hallway and entered the room in question through the next door. Malfoy followed her quietly, glancing around the rooms as they moved through the house. His face was blank, not allowing her to guess what he might be thinking. He entered the living room and then abruptly halted in the middle of the room.
"What," he drawled, "is that."
Hermione peered around him, trying to figure out what he meant. She then saw he was staring straight at the television. Frowning, she tried to come up with a way to explain it to him so that he would understand. "Um, it's a television. It is sort of similar to the wireless in the sense that it's used for entertainment and acquiring information, except it's not just sound but also sends visuals. For example, some channels have a periodical news broadcast. They make sure someone is present at the scene with a video camera, a device that captures what is happening at the scene and broadcasts it to the people who tuned in on that particular channel, sometimes we can follow things live."
"Huh," Malfoy responded thoughtfully, sounding a little interested.
They stood in silence for a while as he studied the strange technological device when that silence was interrupted by a steady ringing. Malfoy instantly pulled out his wand, pointing it in the general direction of the ringing, causing Hermione to jump forward and push down his arm.
"Calm down!" she called out, unable to keep from smiling at his startled demeanour. "It's just the phone. I'll explain it in a minute. Please put your wand away." After Malfoy slowly obliged, Hermione slowly took the cordless phone from its dock.
"Granger residence," she greeted politely, exiting the living room with the phone at her ear, making her way back to the kitchen. "Aunt Juliet! Hello! How was South Africa?"
Listening to her aunt's cheerful chatter, Hermione reached the kitchen and signalled her mother. "That sounds wonderful," she responded enthusiastically as her aunt on the other side of the line wrapped up her summary. "I can't wait to hear everything. Hold on, I'll pass you to Mum. See you tomorrow!" Holding out the phone to her mother, she whispered who it was. Her mother's face lit up and she accepted the phone, enthusiastically greeting her younger sister.
Hermione leisurely made her way back to the living room, hoping Malfoy hadn't attacked any of the other electronics in the room. When she entered, she found him standing in front of the fireplace, looking at the many pictures on the mantel shelf. She frowned with displeased anticipation, awaiting his nasty comments about her younger self's looks when Malfoy turned around with a small frame in his hand.
"Granger, what is this?"
Hermione walked up to him, peering at the framed photo in his hand as she neared him. Her heart skipping a beat when she recognised the black-and-white image he was holding. "Oh…" she muttered uncomfortably, causing Malfoy to raise his eyebrows.
She took the frame from him, fully expecting him to be annoyed that she took it, but Malfoy seemed to simply wait for her answer. "This is a sonogram," she began. "It's a medical ultrasound, a photograph made with sound waves. Muggles use ultrasound to see internal body structures, like muscles and veins. It's used to find the source of medical complaints. When a woman is pregnant they use ultrasound to check on the fetus inside the woman's womb, to see if it's developing well. People like to take a sonogram home after those ultrasounds. It's a lovely keepsake."
"So… this is a photo of you… from before you were born?" Malfoy asked awkwardly.
Hermione shook her head, looking down at the framed image with a sad smile. "No… this a photo of my sister."
"You have a—"
"No," Hermione interjected quickly. "I don't." She hesitated briefly, feeling a little uncomfortable discussing something so personal with him. When she looked up at him and found him staring right back at her, his eyes betraying his restrained curiosity, she took a breath and started talking.
"She died in the womb when my mother was seven months pregnant. It was sudden, she appeared healthy right up until the end. My mother noticed very quickly that something was wrong and was rushed to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do for the baby. They artificially induced labour after which the baby was born two days later. Unfortunately, this left my mother vulnerable to a very serious infection which made her very sick. She had to stay in the hospital for a month and was unable to have any more children afterwards."
"Ah. I'm sorry," Malfoy muttered awkwardly after a little while, but he didn't sound insincere.
"This sonogram was made during the last ultrasound when my sister was still alive," she continued. "Even though I was barely two years old I was really looking forward to being a big sister." Hermione made her way over to the mantelpiece and put the frame back in its spot, behind the other pictures. There was a hollow feeling in her chest. She had never told this story to anyone before; not even Harry, Ron or Ginny knew.
"Hermione! Draco! Lunch is ready!"
After a worried glance at Malfoy, she led the way back to the dining room. Her parents had settled down on one side of the table. Hermione sat down across from her father, Malfoy followed suit and sat down next to her, across from her mother. After the sandwich platter and salad bowl were passed around, her mother sat up a little straighter.
"So, Draco, would you tell us something about yourself? Where are you from? And how did you come to have such a wonderfully unusual name?"
Malfoy swallowed down the bite he had taken off his sandwich and smiled. "I grew up in Wiltshire," he said in a pleasant tone that Hermione was not familiar with. "My family has had an estate there for over a thousand years, but the Malfoy family was originally French. I have been told that one of my ancestors was in service of William the Conqueror and came over from France to England with him and that he personally gave our family the land our manor was built on."
"How fascinating," her father replied, sounding truly interested. "It must be great to be part of such a rich history."
"And the origin of your name?" her mother asked curiously.
"Well, my mother comes from an old family with a long-standing fascination for astrology. I was named after a constellation, as were many other members of my family. Some others are named after stars."
"Wonderful," her mother said softly. "I really do enjoy unusual names."
Malfoy smiled at her. "Yes, I have to say that I have never met a Hermione before."
Next to him, Hermione nearly choked on her drink as a shiver went down her spine. She had quietly listened to the conversation and she had not expected Malfoy to use her first name at all, let alone so casually as he had just now. For some reason, it had an incredibly powerful effect on her.
Neither her parents nor Malfoy seemed to have noticed her unflattering response, as both her father and Malfoy were listening intently to her mother's story of how she had come up with her daughter's name. She reached for her necklace, fingering the tiny glass orb as she thought of Ron and how she herself had told him this exact story two years earlier.
"My father has a real passion for business. He has set up and owned several successful businesses, though most of them have been sold. For the past few years he has owned a chain of apothecaries," Malfoy said, answering another one of her father's questions.
"He has?" Hermione asked bluntly, unable to hide her surprise.
Malfoy turned to look at her, unfazed. "Yes," he confirmed. "But he is not very active within the chain, he mostly runs things from the background while being involved in other matters," he told her parents. "Up until our second year, he was School Governor. He has also had advisory roles within the Ministry, mostly regarding International Affairs."
"And your mother?"
"My mother is very involved with charities. She recently helped with the campaign to finance a new Ward at a Wizarding hospital here in London."
Hermione stared at her plate and exhaled sharply through her nose, instantly realising what ward he was talking about. She couldn't believe that the Malfoys had tried to get back in good graces again by spending a lot of money on St. Mungo's. Malfoy had a charming way of twisting the truth, but she knew it all came down to some good old bribery. Did people really still fall for that?
In the living room, the telephone rang again, causing Malfoy to once again tense up next to her. Her father excused himself and exited the table, answering the phone moments later. When he came back, he had his coat and his briefcase in his hands.
"Darling, there is an emergency at the clinic," he informed her mother. "There was a car accident and one of our clients lost four teeth and may have nerve damage. I'm going in to see if everything is under control."
"Oh no," her mother replied, sounding concerned. "Yes, of course. Let me know what time you expect to be home."
"Of course. I will see you all at dinner." He buttoned his coat, kissed his wife on her cheek and quickly left.
Hermione rose to collect the empty dishes, but her mother motioned for her to leave it. "Nonsense, dear, let me. You two should go about your day."
They left the dining room and made their way back to the living room. As soon as they were out of her mother's sight, Malfoy instantly wiped the pleasant facial expression off his face and sneaked a glance at his wristwatch when he seemed to think she wasn't looking. They still had many hours left, but luckily, she had planned ahead.
"I have planned something for us to do in an hour," she announced. "We have to leave in about 45 minutes, so until then… is there anything you want to know?"
Malfoy dropped down on the couch and looked up at her with a bored expression. "You clearly have your mother's hair," he drawled. "How come hers looks halfway decent and your hair looks… well… like that?"
Hermione glowered at him. "Don't be so childish," she bit back.
"Don't be so uptight," he countered sharply. "It was just a joke." He glanced around the living room for a moment, sulking. "I guess I'm somewhat curious about that ringing thing from earlier," he then muttered reluctantly.
"Right." Hermione sat down on the other couch and thought of a comparison to a magical equivalent. "I guess you could say that a telephone — we usually just call it a phone, really — is the Muggle answer to the head-only use of the Floo Network. It allows us to contact each other without having to travel and visit each other. The biggest difference is that we can only hear each other and not see each other."
She paused and looked at Malfoy, frowning thoughtfully. "Shouldn't you be taking notes?" she asked him carefully. Though he didn't look terribly disinterested, she couldn't imagine that he would remember everything.
"I didn't really think to bring a quill," he replied after a brief pause, the tone of his voice betraying some reluctance. Sighing, Hermione got to her feet and moved toward the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. She searched through the top drawer and took out a writing pad and a pen.
"Here," she said, turning around and tossing the writing pad and pen on the couch next to Malfoy as she made her way back over to the sitting area. "You can use this. That blue thing is a pen, it's what Muggles use instead of a quill. The little metal tip you see has a tube attached to it inside the pen where the ink is stored, so you don't have to dip it in ink to be able to write. The ink also dries almost immediately once you've written something down."
Malfoy inspected the pen with some suspicion before taking the writing pad to test it out. "What sort of parchment is this?" he asked, feeling the paper while he spoke.
"It's not parchment, actually," she replied. "It's called paper. It's made from wood pulp. Parchment hasn't really been used by Muggles for a very long time."
As soon as Malfoy started writing, he looked genuinely impressed with the Muggle tools he was using. Hermione watched him with some amusement while he was writing down the things she had explained to him so far, sometimes pausing to take a closer look at the pen in his hand or to test if the ink had really already dried. Once he finished writing, Hermione checked the time and stood up from the couch.
It was time for the main event of the day.
~ X ~
"Where are we?"
"This is the London Underground. We call it the Tube. We're going to take the metro train to our destination because it's a forty-minute walk."
Hermione moved as the queue shortened, going through her bag as she stepped forward to find her wallet. Malfoy stood next to her, his shoulders tense and his face displaying his discomfort and wariness. When they reached the front of the queue, Hermione moved to the ticket machine and searched her wallet for coins as Malfoy watched her purchase two tickets.
"Why did we Apparate here and not just to our destination?" he asked her grumpily.
Hermione briefly glanced at him with annoyance. "Because you're supposed to experience Muggle life today. Be thankful I cheated a little and saved us the fifteen-minute walk to this station by Apparating us here."
She took the tickets out of the machine and motioned for Malfoy to follow her. They descended deeper underground to the platform and were lucky enough to arrive there just as the metro train rode in. Malfoy was clearly very uncomfortable. He visibly tensed up every time people walked past him and audibly groaned when Hermione made her way to the small crowd that formed around one of the doors of the train.
Once inside, she quickly moved to the two vacant seats between an older man and a middle-aged woman with four grocery bags. She sat down happily until she saw that Malfoy was still standing by the door. "Sit down," she urged him. "You're going to fall if you don't."
Just as Malfoy reluctantly stepped toward the seat next to her, the train started moving and he quickly and clumsily stumbled forward and sat down, sharply inhaling as he fought off the embarrassment he was obviously feeling. "I did warn you," she muttered, unable to keep from smiling.
"Hilarious, Granger," he spat quietly as he glared at her. "I can't wait to see what else you have in store today," he added sarcastically.
"Actually, I think you'll like what I have planned," she answered, not revealing more than that to the obvious annoyance of Malfoy.
They reached their stop shortly after that and Hermione stood up, motioning again for him to follow her. They entered the flood of passengers making their way back up to the street.
Once they were back up at street level, Hermione made her way through the people and halted near the corner of the street, glancing over her shoulder to see if Malfoy was still following her. He emerged from the crowd shortly after, possibly even paler and tenser than before. They crossed the street and moved toward a square, grey building.
"Everyman Theatre," Malfoy read aloud. "We're going to see some stupid play?" he asked in a tone of disgusted disbelief.
"No, we're not," Hermione answered simply, not stopping to argue with him.
She entered the building, knowing that Malfoy would not stay out on the street by himself for too long in this new and uncomfortable environment. He proved her right just moments later when he stomped inside and halted next to her just as she received the tickets she just purchased. She turned to him. "Hall three. Let's go."
He visibly struggled to keep his irritation in check. "Are you going to prepare me for what we're going to do at all?" he managed through gritted teeth.
Hermione straightened her posture and met his eyes. "Will you please calm down?" she asked softly but with a stern determination. "I know you don't want to be here, but honestly, I have had better days too and you haven't even been here for three hours."
When his facial expression didn't soften she sighed and started walking. "Remember when I told you about what a television is earlier? How we use them for entertainment?"
Malfoy followed her lead in silence and waited as she got them snacks and drinks. She walked back and held out the bucket of popcorn to him, which he eyed with disgust and didn't accept. "What is this?" he asked with his nose wrinkled.
"Popcorn. It's corn which is heated until it, well, pops open. I ordered half-half because I have no idea if you have a sweet tooth or prefer savoury, so half the bucket is salted popcorn, the other half is sweet. These—" she held up the two cups, "—are soft drinks. And we are going to see a movie."
He just stared at her with a mix of anger and confusion but followed her into hall three without argument. They searched for their seats and sat down. Hermione allowed Malfoy a moment to take in the hall and then offered him the popcorn again. He sighed in defeat and accepted the bucket while she put his soft drink in the cup holder next to his seat.
"You know what the best part of this movie is going to be?" she asked him after taking a sip of her own drink.
"What?" Malfoy asked distantly. He was examining a single piece of popcorn as he spoke, not quite yet having worked up the nerve to taste it.
Hermione smiled a little. "For the next two hours, we won't have to talk or even acknowledge each other."
He remained quiet next to her for a little while. Then she heard crunching and chuckled as quietly as she could. The advertisements started and she settled into her seat, only to tense up again when the popcorn bucket was held under her nose. She looked at Malfoy, a little startled. He raised his eyebrow at her in response. "This is tasty but I am not going to finish this entire bucket by myself."
Blinking, Hermione hesitantly put her hand in the bucket and grabbed a handful of popcorn as she glanced at Malfoy. It was a strange sight to see him sitting so close to her, but what was even stranger was that he seemed to have finally managed to relax. When he caught her glancing in his direction his facial expression hardened again, and Hermione couldn't help but be a little disappointed at that.
"You still haven't told me exactly what it is we're doing here," he then stated.
"Right," she answered with a sigh. "Do you ever read books for pleasure? Works of fiction, for example, where you follow a storyline with characters? This is going to be like that, except it will be visual. I guess you could compare watching a movie to visiting a memory through a Pensieve. You witness the story, but you're not part of it and you can't interact with it."
Malfoy frowned. "I have never done that. Visit a memory through a Pensieve," he clarified.
"Neither have I." Hermione shrugged. "But I know the basics of it through things I've read and heard."
"Right," he muttered. "So what kind of story are we going to be witnessing today?"
"It's called the Prince of Egypt," she told him. "It's based on the Book of Exodus, which tells the story of Moses, a religious prophet, and how he leads the Hebrew people from Egypt to the promised land of Israel."
"That sounds terribly boring," Malfoy scoffed.
"It's marketed mostly towards children," Hermione countered a little defensively. "If it's going to be captivating enough for them, I'm sure you'll be able to sit through it too."
Just as she finished her sentence, the lights dimmed until it was dark, and the movie previews started playing on the large screen. Shortly after, the Prince of Egypt started.
Hermione was completely captivated by the animation, the story and the songs. She also couldn't help but feel pleased whenever she heard Malfoy laugh quietly at the jokes. It had been a difficult task to put together a day that would be interesting enough for a pureblood supremacist to fully endure, but she wanted him to be able to enjoy it a little too. After all, she realised full well that Malfoy had probably been really nervous about this day, probably more than she had been, and she didn't want him hating Muggles more than he already did. She also wanted to show him that Muggles were capable of their very own 'magic'.
After nearly two hours, the credits starting rolling up the screen and the lights slowly started illuminating the hall again. Hermione glanced sideways to see how Malfoy was holding up and caught him still staring straight ahead at the large screen, a subtle look of wonder in his eyes and a nearly-empty popcorn bucket in his lap. "So… what did you think?" she asked him quietly.
He turned his gaze to her and seemed a little conflicted as he considered the question for a little while. "I have to admit…" he started hesitantly. "...it was not so bad," he then settled in a business-like tone, but Hermione recognised the look in his eyes as genuine enjoyment. Baby steps; she reminded herself. This was a good start.
~ X ~
The rest of the day it seemed that Malfoy was a little more receptive to Muggle life. The look of disgust he had worn earlier stayed mostly off his face, and being around Muggles didn't seem to affect him as bad as it had in the beginning. Hermione took him to a popular fast food restaurant where Malfoy had boldly tried a large hamburger. She introduced him to French fries and milkshakes and learned that he apparently preferred savoury over sweet because the fries had been far too salty and yet he had finished them all, but his milkshake remained untouched after just one sip.
They had taken the Tube further into Muggle London, switching from one line to another. There had been no seats available on the second line, but Malfoy had adapted quickly and he hadn't stumbled or fallen. Once they were in the heart of the city, she took him for a walking tour along several London highlights and discovered that he was quite interested in the city's history. He asked questions without obvious reluctance and took the time to write down notes.
During dinner with her parents, he had asked them about their job and what being a dentist actually meant. Though Malfoy had tried to be polite, Hermione could tell that he was mildly disgusted by the thought of having to do things in people's mouths. Despite that, he had seemed quite fascinated, though he hadn't been shy about voicing that in his opinion, the Magical world had a better alternative for dentists, which simply meant rinsing one's mouth with a specific potion once every three months.
After dinner, they introduced Malfoy to the television and allowed him to browse the channels. He seemed most fascinated by cartoons, but the news channel seemed to interest him as well. Once the grandfather clock chimed indicating it was only an hour until midnight, Hermione's parents went upstairs to get changed for church.
"So what is this midnight mass event you're attending?" Malfoy asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the television.
"It's a special church service to celebrate Christmas Day. It's held at midnight when Christmas Eve ends and Christmas Day begins," answered Hermione. "My parents are not really religious but we enjoy the services during Easter and Christmas. The choir is nationally renowned."
He nodded thoughtfully. Shortly after, her father returned downstairs, signalling Hermione that she could go and get changed as well.
She nervously made her way upstairs and into her bedroom, quickly changing into a light blue dress. Not wanting to leave Malfoy alone with her parents for too long, she simply tied her hair together in a low ponytail, not bothering with futile attempts to tame her bushy curls.
Before long, they made their way to the church at the end of the street on foot. She walked beside Malfoy in silence and found it wasn't nearly as awkward as it had been at the beginning of the afternoon. Though their day together hadn't been as awful as she had predicted, she was glad it was nearly over. When they made it to the church, Hermione halted. Malfoy stopped in his tracks as well and turned back to face her.
"The Mass starts at midnight, but we will go inside a little earlier than that to find seats," she told him. "Once we go inside, you can Apparate home if you want." She turned towards the church and pointed at the tall hedge on the right side of the church square. "There is a narrow pathway between the church and that hedge," she continued quietly. "You can Apparate from there."
Malfoy simply nodded in response and followed her back to her parents, just as the church door opened and the first people made their way inside. He stepped forward to shake their hands. "Thank you again for your hospitality today," he said with that same polite smile that Hermione just couldn't get accustomed to.
"Not a problem," her father answered. "I hope being here today was insightful. Good luck with your essay."
Her mother smiled at him. "Happy holidays to you and your family."
Malfoy gave them a last friendly nod as they made their way into the church as well. The square was nearly empty now, but Hermione followed him to the hedge anyway, just to be safe. They reached the narrow pathway and Malfoy turned back to her just before entering the shadows and frowned at her. "Well, Granger, it's been… well, it's been something."
Hermione snorted. "Right," she muttered. "I should go inside. See you after the holidays, I guess. Thank you for... well, you know... playing your part."
"Right," he echoed. He stared at her as he stepped backwards into the shadowy pathway with a hint of a smirk on his face. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."
Then, with a soft pop, he Disapparated just as the church bells started ringing, announcing midnight, leaving Hermione to frown at the empty pathway with slight bewilderment for a little while longer, uncharacteristically forgetting to rush inside.