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Grimmauld Place had undergone a transformation over the past months. Once oppressive and filled with the weight of old magic, the house had slowly begun to feel like a home. Hermione had worked tirelessly, not just to clear away the physical remnants of its dark history but also to change the atmosphere entirely. She'd even managed to bring Kreacher around. The house-elf, who had once loathed her presence, now treated her with an almost begrudging respect—largely due to her decision to honour his late master's memory and her persistence in treating him with kindness. The turning point had been when she gave him the duplicate locket that had belonged to Regulus Black, a small but symbolic gesture that showed Kreacher she valued his past. Since then, he had become almost cheerful in his work, even trying out new recipes to please her and Harry.

Now, the house was warm and inviting, with lighter curtains and the once-dreary furniture carefully restored to a worn but comfortable state. Kreacher moved about the kitchen with surprising energy, humming softly as he served them dinner.

"You've really worked your magic on him," Ginny observed, watching Kreacher bustle away after setting down a plate of roasted vegetables. "I still can't believe he's the same house-elf."

Hermione smiled. "It wasn't magic. Just a bit of patience and understanding."

"Yeah, but you've got enough of that for the rest of us," Ron said, grinning as he reached for another roll from the basket. "Honestly, if you ever get tired of fixing up house-elves and politicians, maybe you could turn me into a responsible adult."

Harry chuckled, while Ginny nudged Ron playfully. "You'd need more than magic for that," she teased.

Hermione laughed, though her mind was half-focused on the papers beside her plate. The speech she was preparing for the Ministry still needed work, and with her looming stay at Malfoy Manor over Christmas, she was starting to feel the pressure. The class proposal, designed to help integrate Muggle-borns into the wizarding world more smoothly and foster understanding between different magical backgrounds, was ambitious. But she knew how important it could be for future generations. Plus, dating Draco Malfoy added another layer of complexity to everything, especially with Narcissa's invitation for her to spend Christmas at the Manor.

"Are you ready for the Ministry speech?" Harry asked, glancing at the papers she kept fidgeting with.

Hermione sighed, pushing them aside for the moment. "Almost. I'm just trying to make sure I cover everything—especially the integration part. The idea of creating a new class at Hogwarts for Muggle-borns and pure-bloods to better understand each other is… a bit radical for some people."

"Radical?" Ron scoffed. "It's common sense, if you ask me. We've all seen what happens when people are too stuck in their ways."

"That's the hope," Hermione said, smiling. "But you know the Ministry. Change is slow, and there are plenty of people who still don't like the idea of tearing down old traditions."

"Well, you're good at shaking things up, Hermione," Ginny said encouragingly. "And once they see how much you care about this, they'll come around. They can't argue with you on the merits of it."

Ron leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Just make sure they don't start calling it 'Granger Integration Teaching.' Could be a tough sell with the old guard."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Hermione said, rolling her eyes but grinning.

Harry, who had been quietly listening, leaned forward. "And after the speech, you're still going to Malfoy Manor, right? For Christmas?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, though she couldn't help the slight tension that crept into her voice. "Narcissa invited me for Christmas Eve and Day. It's… well, it's going to be interesting."

"I'll bet," Ron said with a mischievous grin. "Christmas at Malfoy Manor. You think they'll serve you a side of Death Eater with your turkey?"

"Ron!" Ginny nudged him harder this time, though she couldn't suppress a laugh. "Draco's not like that anymore."

"No, you're right," Ron admitted, still grinning. "Draco's all cleaned up now. Bet the torture dungeons are just for show."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it's not going to be like that. It's Christmas, and Draco asked me to be there. He's trying to make things better with his family, and I want to support him. Narcissa's being... well, civil."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Civil? Sounds promising. But you're sure she's not going to throw some sort of pure-blood family ritual at you?"

Hermione chuckled nervously. "I'm sure. Besides, Draco's told me she's trying to make an effort. It's Christmas, after all. And... you know... she did help Harry survive the Battle of Hogwarts."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'll give him that. Draco's been decent this year. Just... watch out for Narcissa. She's not the easiest person to read."

"I'll be on my best behaviour," Hermione promised with a grin.

Ron smirked. "Can't wait to hear all about it. I'm sure they've got some ancient pure-blood traditions up their sleeves. Maybe you'll get to attend one of those infamous Malfoy banquets. You know, like a roast hippogriff or something."

Hermione shot him a look. "It's just Christmas, Ron. And it's not like I'm going alone. Draco mentioned there'd be an escort to take me there, though I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it's just tradition."

"An escort?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "What for?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, frowning. "Draco said it's some kind of pure-blood custom, but I'm not sure what the point is. I assumed it's someone from the Ministry or an Auror, but honestly, I have no idea. Maybe it's just one of those formalities they insist on."

Ron leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Well, this just keeps getting better. Maybe you'll have some high-ranking Ministry officials escort you in. Make an entrance."

Ginny chuckled. "Or Percy. That'd be a Christmas miracle."

Harry, though more serious, asked, "You're really okay with this, Hermione? It's Malfoy Manor. We all know the history of that place."

Hermione nodded, though her nerves fluttered a bit. "I'll be fine. Draco's different now, and it's important to me—to both of us—that we try to move forward. Besides, it's just two days. How bad could it be?"

The following day, Hermione was sitting reading on the stairs, still puzzling over the entire escort situation. Why all the formality? It was Christmas at Malfoy Manor, not a diplomatic mission.

A sharp knock on the door broke her thoughts. Hermione opened it, expecting a Ministry official or perhaps an Auror, but instead, she found herself staring into the dark, unreadable eyes of Severus Snape.

"Professor Snape?" she blurted, her surprise obvious. He stood in the doorway, looking as severe as ever, his dark eyes gleaming with something like amusement. "What… what are you doing here?"

Snape stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his black robes billowing slightly behind him. "Ah, Miss Granger," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It seems Draco failed to mention the specifics of your escort arrangement."

Hermione blinked, confused. "Wait… you're my escort?"

Snape's lips curled into a smirk, as though he found her naivety highly amusing. "Yes, Miss Granger, I am. Though, I must say, Narcissa's request for my involvement was rather unexpected. She initially attempted to contact your parents." His voice took on a mocking tone. "Curious, isn't it, considering… well, we both know why that would have been futile."

Hermione's stomach tightened. Of course Snape knew what had happened to her parents—she had obliviated them herself, sending them to Australia without a trace of their memories. But Draco didn't know, and she certainly hadn't told him. She could feel Snape's sharp gaze studying her, clearly aware of the weight of that silence.

"Right," Hermione muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, I didn't expect you. I thought someone from the Ministry would be sent, maybe an Auror."

Snape let out a low, derisive chuckle. "The Ministry? Hardly. Narcissa would never entrust such a delicate matter to those fools. She contacted me directly—family friend, former headmaster... Apparently, I was the most suitable candidate to ensure your safe arrival." He glanced at her, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Though why I was deemed necessary, I cannot fathom."

Hermione frowned, still confused. "But this is just for my arrival, right? I mean, I don't understand why all this fuss over Christmas dinner."

Snape's smirk widened, his gaze sharp and amused. "Oh, Miss Granger, I'm afraid your understanding of the situation is... incomplete. The escort is not merely for your arrival." He took a step closer, his voice dropping into a lower, more conspiratorial tone. "You will require supervision for the entire duration of your stay."

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? The entire time? Why? I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself."

Snape chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying her frustration. "It has nothing to do with your ability to behave. This is about your virtue, Miss Granger. The Malfoys are nothing if not traditional. A young, unmarried woman—especially one staying with her boyfriend—would hardly be left unattended, now would she?"

Hermione flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and indignation flaring in her. "That's ridiculous! My virtue isn't in danger, and I don't need someone policing my personal life."

Snape's gaze flickered with amusement as he looked her over, lingering on her face for a beat longer than necessary. "This isn't about your personal life. It's about appearances, Miss Granger. In the Malfoy world, decorum must be maintained. And your virtue, whether in danger or not, is something Narcissa clearly intends to safeguard."

Hermione felt a flush crawl up her neck, her irritation simmering. This whole thing was absurd—her virtue, as if she were some Victorian damsel in distress. Still, she bit her tongue, knowing arguing with Snape would be pointless.

But as she prepared to reach for Snape's arm to Disapparate, something nagged at her. Her escort was supposed to prevent any improper behavior, yet Snape himself was male, and far from impartial. The tension between them in the past—however unspoken—had been palpable.

She hesitated, her fingers just an inch from his arm. "Wait," she said, frowning, "if this is all about protecting my virtue, then why are you my escort?" She looked him directly in the eye, her voice slightly daring. "Wouldn't you technically be just as much of a threat?"

For a split second, something flickered in Snape's eyes—something unreadable but charged. His jaw tightened, and when he spoke, his voice was sharp, tinged with annoyance. "I assure you, Miss Granger," he said, his tone clipped, "Narcissa clearly didn't consider that possibility. Apparently, in her estimation, I am far too old and far too... disinterested to pose any threat to your precious virtue."

Hermione's breath caught slightly at his words, feeling a twinge of something—annoyance, perhaps, but also a flicker of awareness. The undercurrent of tension between them felt almost tangible now, even if it remained unspoken. The way his eyes lingered on her, the slight edge to his voice—it was undeniable.

"And yet," Snape added, his voice lowering as he looked her directly in the eye, "you seem to think otherwise."

Hermione's pulse quickened, the words hanging between them, heavy and charged with a meaning neither of them would ever fully acknowledge. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words died on her lips. What could she say to that? It was Snape, after all. Older, bitter, and far too complicated to even consider—but that didn't stop the moment from stretching between them, heavy with tension.

Finally, Snape broke the silence, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he extended his arm toward her. "Shall we? Or would you like to further debate the nature of your... protection?"

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, and she forced herself to swallow down the jumble of emotions. This was ridiculous. She was dating Draco. And yet...

She reached for his arm, her fingers brushing the cool fabric of his robes. The contact, brief though it was, felt oddly intimate, and she quickly reminded herself that this was just Snape. Nothing more. She straightened, forcing herself to meet his gaze squarely.

"Let's get this over with," she muttered.

Snape smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Indeed."

And with a sharp crack, they Disapparated, leaving the warmth of Grimmauld Place behind.

The world blurred and shifted, and suddenly Hermione found herself standing in front of Malfoy Manor, bathed in the pale winter daylight. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, her breath visible in the cold air. When her eyes focused, she couldn't help but gasp softly.

She had never seen the manor from the outside in daylight before. The last time she'd been here, it had been chaotic, terrifying, and shrouded in darkness. But now, standing in the golden light of the afternoon, Malfoy Manor was breathtaking in its grandeur. Towers rose elegantly toward the sky, their ivy-covered walls winding through centuries of history. The stone glistened faintly, and the vast gardens stretched out as far as she could see, meticulously groomed and softened by a light dusting of snow.

She remembered Draco's mention of the gardens—how he'd told her they were something special. He hadn't exaggerated. Even in winter, they were beautiful, laid out in geometric patterns that seemed to go on forever, each hedge and tree perfectly placed.

"Well, Miss Granger," Snape drawled beside her, his voice cutting through the quiet awe she hadn't realised she'd been radiating. "I see you're already impressed. I trust you'll manage to maintain some composure."

Hermione shot him a sideways glance, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a nice change seeing it without... you know, the screams."

Snape's lip twitched, but he said nothing in response, though she could tell her comment had landed. They started moving forward toward the grand entrance, the sound of their footsteps crunching on the gravel path.

The large double doors of the manor were opened for them by a house-elf the moment they reached them. Hermione had been bracing herself for a formal greeting at the door, perhaps by Narcissa herself, but instead, the house-elf bowed deeply and beckoned them inside with a soft, "This way, Mistress Granger and Master Snape."

As they stepped inside, the warmth of the manor enveloped them, and Hermione's senses were immediately assaulted by the opulence of the entrance hall. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate, ancient carvings, and the walls were lined with towering portraits of regal-looking ancestors, each of them peering down with haughty indifference. The floors gleamed, polished to a mirror-like shine, and the faint scent of something floral lingered in the air.

Hermione took in every detail as they walked through the hallways. Everything was perfect, immaculate, and designed to impress. Even the air seemed to hum with a sense of old magic, a reminder of the Malfoys' centuries-old lineage. Yet there was also a weight to it—an invisible pressure that seemed to demand perfection, both from the house itself and from those who walked its halls. It was a stark contrast to the warmth and casual comfort of places like the Burrow or even Grimmauld Place.

"Not quite what you're used to, is it, Miss Granger?" Snape murmured beside her, his voice laced with dry amusement.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "No, it's a bit more... more polished than my usual accommodations."

"Polished is one way to describe it," Snape replied, his lips twitching into something resembling a smirk. "Suffocating would be another."

Hermione glanced sideways at him, slightly surprised by his comment. She supposed Snape, despite his pure-blood heritage, wasn't much for grandeur. She was about to respond when they reached a wing of the house, and the house-elf paused outside a grand doorway.

"This way, Mistress Granger," the house-elf said softly before opening the door for her.

Stepping inside, Hermione was greeted by the sight of Draco and Narcissa waiting for her. Draco stood tall, his posture straighter than usual, his expression carefully composed. Hermione's heart gave an involuntary little leap at the sight of him, and for a moment, she had the overwhelming urge to rush forward and hug him. But something held her back—an awareness of the formality in the air, the unspoken rules of decorum that seemed to govern everything here. It wouldn't be proper to throw herself into his arms in front of his mother.

Instead, she smiled warmly at him, and Draco returned the smile, though his expression was more reserved than usual. He seemed different here, more rigid, more Malfoy. His shoulders were squared, and there was a formality in the way he stood—as if he were slipping into a role, one that wasn't entirely his own but expected of him in this house. He was different at home.

"Miss Granger," Draco greeted, his voice steady but holding a note of warmth that reassured her despite the formality of it all. "I'm glad you're here."

"Thank you for having me," Hermione replied, her voice soft but genuine. Her gaze flicked to Narcissa, who stood beside her son, as poised and elegant as ever.

Narcissa Malfoy was a vision of composure. Her platinum hair was perfectly styled, her robes immaculate and expensive. She was regal in every sense, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a small pang of anxiety under her sharp gaze. Narcissa's face was pleasant, but there was something about her eyes—cool and calculating, as if she were assessing every movement, every word that passed between them.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa said, inclining her head slightly. "We are pleased to welcome you into our home for the holiday. I trust your journey was uneventful?"

"It was, thank you," Hermione responded, doing her best to mirror Narcissa's calm, polite tone. She stole a glance at Draco again, trying to decipher his expression, but he remained as composed as his mother.

"Good," Narcissa said with a small, almost imperceptible smile. "I have ensured that your accommodations are comfortable. If you require anything during your stay, our elves will see to it immediately."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione replied, her heart still racing slightly. She could feel Narcissa's eyes on her, measuring her, and while there was no overt hostility, Hermione couldn't shake the sense that she was being evaluated.

As if sensing the tension, Draco cleared his throat and took a small step forward. "Shall we show you the gardens before dinner? They look especially beautiful in the snow."

Hermione smiled at the offer, feeling a little more at ease. "I'd love to."

But before they could move, Snape's voice cut through the moment like a blade. "As much as I'd love to indulge in a tour of the horticulture, I believe I'll take my leave to my usual rooms. I've upheld my duty as Miss Granger's escort for now." His emphasis on the word made Hermione's cheeks flush slightly.

Narcissa gave a small nod of approval. "Thank you, Severus. As always, your assistance is appreciated."

Snape inclined his head, his black eyes flicking between Narcissa, Draco, and Hermione with a hint of his usual sneer. "I'm sure it is." He glanced at Hermione briefly, his voice turning dry. "Try not to let the grandeur overwhelm you, Miss Granger."

Hermione's lips quirked in response. "I'll do my best to maintain my composure, Professor."

Snape's eyes glinted with amusement, but he said nothing further. With a swish of his robes, he turned and exited the room, leaving Hermione feeling as though the atmosphere had lightened slightly in his absence. She exhaled softly, then turned her attention back to Draco and Narcissa.

"Shall we?" Draco asked, his voice a touch more relaxed now that Snape had gone.

Hermione nodded, her heart settling into a steadier rhythm. Whatever awkwardness lingered in the air would fade. She just had to navigate this carefully, as she always did.

The crisp winter air greeted them as Draco led Hermione into the sprawling gardens of Malfoy Manor. Snow blanketed the carefully groomed paths, and Hermione couldn't help but admire how pristine everything looked, even in the dead of winter. The hedges were immaculately shaped, and frost clung delicately to the branches of the carefully placed trees, glittering in the pale sunlight. Draco moved with the ease of someone who had known these grounds all his life, his hand occasionally brushing hers as they walked.

"It's beautiful," Hermione said softly, her breath clouding in the cold air. "I can see why you love it here."

Draco smiled, though it was restrained, as if the weight of their surroundings made him hesitant to relax completely. "It's home," he said simply, though she could sense the pride in his voice.

Narcissa, who had been trailing behind them at a polite distance, suddenly closed the gap, making her presence known. She wasn't hovering exactly, but there was an unspoken expectation in the air. Hermione felt the subtle shift in Draco's demeanour as his posture straightened further, his gestures more controlled.

As they turned a corner, passing a frozen fountain that gleamed like crystal in the snow, Hermione couldn't hold back her question any longer. "So… is an adult always going to be with us while I'm here?" she asked quietly, glancing at Draco with a raised eyebrow, half-expecting him to shrug it off.

Before Draco could respond, Narcissa's voice chimed in smoothly. "Indeed, Miss Granger," she said, her tone polite but firm. "It would be improper for a single witch to be unescorted while staying under our roof. Appearances, you understand."

Hermione hesitated, not entirely sure how to respond. "Appearances?"

Narcissa's pale eyes met hers with a calm, composed expression. "Yes, appearances. While you may have more freedom at Hogwarts, where you are students and treated as such, here at the manor, you are not children. It is important that you are seen as respectable, especially in the company of my son." She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I wouldn't want anyone questioning Draco's future bride."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat, the word bride hitting her like a cold gust of wind. Future bride? She and Draco hadn't even said they loved each other yet. They had been dating for a short while, and while things were going well, the thought of marriage hadn't even entered her mind. She shot a glance at Draco, hoping for some kind of reaction, but he remained silent, his expression carefully neutral.

"I... I see," Hermione murmured, not entirely sure how to respond. This wasn't the time or place to have that conversation, especially not with Narcissa walking just behind them. She could feel the distance between her and Draco growing, the unspoken tension lingering in the cold air.

Narcissa's voice softened slightly, though it remained formal. "It's not just about us, Miss Granger. Appearances are everything in our world. One day, when you take on more public roles, you'll understand the importance of maintaining the proper image."

Hermione nodded stiffly, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn't properly articulate. Marriage? Appearances? The words felt heavy and premature, far beyond what she and Draco had discussed. But before she could say anything more, Draco gently steered the conversation elsewhere.

"Shall we continue?" he asked, gesturing toward a distant grove of trees, his tone light but tight, as if he, too, was eager to move on from the uncomfortable subject.

The grand dining room of Malfoy Manor was a sight to behold. The long table, set with gleaming silverware and fine porcelain, was illuminated by the soft glow of tall candelabras. A fire crackled in the hearth, adding warmth to the elegant, albeit imposing, atmosphere. Hermione sat across from Draco, feeling the weight of the house's history pressing down on her. The formality of the setting was a stark contrast to the informal warmth of dinners at the Burrow, and she was acutely aware of every move she made.

Draco was seated with a more rigid posture than usual, his easygoing manner from Hogwarts replaced by something more formal, almost distant. She could feel his gaze on her, though it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Narcissa sat at the head of the table, poised and elegant, her pale blue eyes quietly assessing Hermione, while Snape, seated to the side, seemed to watch the room with detached interest, though Hermione could feel the weight of his occasional glances.

As the conversation drifted toward more formal topics, it was Narcissa who turned to Hermione with an air of composed curiosity.

"So, Miss Granger," Narcissa began, her voice cutting through the quiet clink of silverware. "I understand you're working on a rather ambitious proposal for Hogwarts. Something about new classes?"

Hermione set down her glass, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement. This was her chance to discuss her project, but under Narcissa's sharp gaze and in the company of Snape and Draco, the stakes felt higher than ever.

"Yes," Hermione replied, her voice steady. "I've been working on a proposal for a curriculum that would bridge the gap between pure-blood and Muggle-born students. It would focus on teaching students about each other's cultures, traditions, and histories to promote better understanding and, hopefully, break down some of the long-standing prejudices."

Narcissa arched an eyebrow slightly, though her expression remained polite. "A noble goal," she said, her tone measured. "And do you believe the Ministry will support such a... progressive idea?"

Before Hermione could respond, Snape cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. His black eyes glittered with a hint of amusement as he leaned slightly forward.

"If I may," Snape began, his voice smooth and laced with sarcasm, "Miss Granger's idea has merit, but the success of such a proposal depends entirely on how it is presented. I've already reminded her that selling the curriculum as a way to preserve pure-blood traditions—rather than disrupt them—is essential. After all, the Ministry is hardly eager to upend centuries of established order, even for the sake of enlightenment."

Hermione's jaw tightened slightly, but she knew he wasn't wrong. She had heard this from Snape before, during their previous discussions about the proposal. "I understand that," she said, trying to keep her tone neutral. "Which is why I plan to emphasise that it's not about replacing traditions, but about sharing knowledge. Both sides can learn from each other."

Snape's lip curled into a faint smirk. "I see you've taken my advice to heart, Miss Granger. Though I would caution you—appearing too eager to 'educate' the pure-blood elite might not win you the allies you seek. Tread carefully. You're attempting to teach those who believe they already know all that is worth knowing."

Narcissa's gaze flicked to Snape briefly before returning to Hermione. "It's true, many in our world are... reluctant to change," she said, her voice soft but pointed. "But there are those who understand the importance of evolution, of balancing tradition with progress. It's a delicate line to walk, Miss Granger. You would do well to remember that."

Hermione nodded, choosing her next words carefully. "I believe that tradition and progress don't have to be at odds with each other. They can coexist—if both sides are willing to listen."

Narcissa's eyes glittered with quiet approval, though her expression remained cool. "An admirable sentiment. And what exactly would this curriculum entail? How do you plan to teach both Muggle-born and pure-blood children the intricacies of each other's worlds?"

Hermione took a deep breath, ready to explain the details of her plan. "The curriculum would include lessons on Muggle culture—important inventions, technology, and social structures that Muggle-born students are already familiar with. At the same time, pure-blood traditions, customs, and history would be taught in a way that allows Muggle-born students to understand the significance of certain practices in the wizarding world."

Narcissa's gaze lingered on Hermione thoughtfully. "I see. And how do you plan to teach the finer points of wizarding etiquette and tradition, Miss Granger? Given your... limited experience with them."

Hermione stiffened slightly, though she kept her expression neutral. Before she could answer, Narcissa continued, her tone polite but cutting.

"For instance," she said smoothly, "I understand you were somewhat surprised by the need for an escort today. And while I don't fault you for that—it's not a common practice among your background—it highlights a certain gap in your knowledge of our world. Escorts, proper greetings, dining etiquette... these are all important aspects of wizarding society that cannot be overlooked."

Draco shifted in his seat, his voice tinged with irritation as he spoke up. "Mother, Miss Granger can't be expected to know every tradition. It's not like there's a comprehensive book on how pure-blood society functions."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, but didn't disagree. "Perhaps not. But these are things that must be learned if one is to be a part of our world."

Hermione flushed slightly, feeling the weight of Narcissa's words, but she quickly composed herself. "Actually, Draco's right," she said, her voice calm. "I did look for a book on wizarding etiquette. In the Muggle world, we have guides on social customs and proper manners. But I couldn't find anything like that in the wizarding world. I was hoping there might be something similar, but..." she trailed off with a small shrug, "...I came up empty-handed."

Narcissa looked mildly surprised at this, her icy demeanour thawing just a fraction. "Interesting. It never occurred to me that such a guide might be needed for those outside of our circle."

Hermione nodded, choosing her next words carefully. "I apologise if I've made any missteps during my time here. I'm still learning, and I know there's a lot I don't understand. But I want to learn, if I'm to create a curriculum that's truly representative of both worlds."

Narcissa's expression softened slightly, and for the first time, there was a hint of approval in her eyes. "It's good that you recognize the importance of these things, Miss Granger. Tradition, as I'm sure you're beginning to understand, is more than just history. It is the framework by which we live. If you truly wish to bridge the gap between our worlds, you must first understand the rules by which we play."

Hermione offered a small smile, feeling a sense of relief. "I'd be grateful for any guidance you could offer, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa inclined her head graciously. "After dinner, perhaps we can retire to the drawing room and discuss these matters further. There are many nuances to our customs that you would benefit from knowing, both for your own sake and for the success of your proposal."

"I'd appreciate that very much," Hermione said, her mind already racing with questions she wanted to ask.

But before the conversation could shift, Snape interjected with a pointed look at Narcissa. "I suspect Miss Granger is more than capable of constructing the curriculum on her own, Narcissa. There's no need to burden you with such... mundane tasks."

Narcissa's smile was thin, but her tone remained calm. "It would hardly be a burden, Severus. In fact, I think it would be beneficial for someone with experience in these matters to contribute. After all, pure-blood traditions are not something that can simply be read about in books."

Hermione glanced between them, sensing a subtle tension in the room. Snape's expression had darkened slightly, though he remained composed. Narcissa, on the other hand, seemed almost too eager to offer her expertise, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was out of genuine interest or something else.

"I'll certainly keep that in mind as I develop the program further," Hermione said carefully, trying to ease the growing tension.

Narcissa nodded, clearly satisfied. "Good. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish, Miss Granger."

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics, Hermione's mind kept circling back to the earlier exchange. She was grateful for Narcissa's offer of help, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it. And Snape's subtle resistance had only added to her unease.

After dinner, Narcissa led Hermione into an elegantly appointed drawing room, its delicate furnishings and warm fire creating a more intimate setting than the grand dining hall. A house-elf had already prepared tea, and the flicker of the flames cast a soft glow over the dark wood panelling and rich velvet chairs. The warmth of the room was inviting, but Hermione couldn't shake the lingering tension from their earlier conversation.

Narcissa motioned for Hermione to sit, and the two women settled into the plush chairs near the fire. For a moment, they sipped their tea in silence, but Hermione could feel Narcissa's cool gaze on her, appraising and patient, as though waiting for the right moment to resume her subtle line of questioning.

"You've had quite the evening," Narcissa said after a few moments, her voice gentle, but laced with quiet intent. "It must be quite an adjustment, being here with us."

Hermione nodded, forcing a polite smile. "It's certainly different from what I'm used to, but I'm enjoying it."

Narcissa gave a small nod; though, her eyes seemed to study Hermione's face closely as if searching for something more. "Draco has spoken very highly of you, you know. He's always been... particular about the company he keeps, especially as of late."

Hermione's heart gave a small jolt at the comment. The unspoken meaning behind Narcissa's words wasn't lost on her. "I care about Draco a lot," Hermione said carefully, trying to navigate the conversation without falling into any traps. "But it's still early for us. We're taking our time."

Narcissa's lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Of course. But you must understand, Miss Granger, that in our world, things do not always progress at a leisurely pace. Appearances matter. And when someone of Draco's position is involved, people begin to talk—and assume."

Hermione swallowed, feeling a slight tension coil in her chest. "We haven't really discussed the future in those terms," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "I think we're still figuring things out."

Narcissa set her teacup down gently, her fingers brushing over the porcelain with a practised elegance. "Understandable," she said, her tone soft, but pointed. "But Draco's future—and the person he chooses to share it with—will be of great interest to many. I'm sure you've thought about that, haven't you?"

The question hung in the air, and Hermione felt her heart quicken. She hadn't expected Narcissa to be this direct. The weight of expectation suddenly felt much heavier than she had anticipated.

"I have," Hermione replied, though her voice wavered slightly. "But we're not rushing into anything. We want to take our time."

Narcissa smiled, though there was a sharpness in her eyes that made Hermione's stomach twist. "Of course, dear. But time has a way of slipping through one's fingers, especially when others are watching. You'll find that in families like ours, it's important to be... prepared."

Hermione's throat tightened, and she felt the weight of Narcissa's words pressing in on her. This wasn't just about her relationship with Draco—this was about the future, about the expectations and assumptions that came with being a part of Draco's world. She suddenly felt very small, and very unsure.

Before she could respond, Narcissa's tone softened, and she shifted the conversation. "I hope you've had the opportunity to speak with Severus as well," she said, her voice casual, though Hermione sensed a careful deliberation in her words. "He's always been a dear friend to our family."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. "Professor Snape and I speak regularly," she said slowly, her discomfort evident. "He's been helpful in some ways, but we've had our differences."

Narcissa's eyes gleamed with a hint of curiosity as she took in Hermione's reaction. "Yes, I've noticed Draco is more attentive when Severus is nearby. He seems to be... keeping an eye on things, doesn't he? It's unusual for him to be so cautious."

Hermione's face flushed even more at the implication, her mind racing. Narcissa wasn't simply observing Draco's behaviour—she was probing, testing the waters of Hermione's relationship with both men. The question had been subtle, but Hermione knew better than to underestimate Narcissa's intent.

"I think Draco just wants to make sure I'm comfortable," Hermione said quickly, though she could feel her own discomfort creeping into her voice. "Professor Snape can be... intimidating, at times."

Narcissa smiled, though her gaze remained sharp. "Yes, Severus does have that effect. But it's rare for Draco to be so protective, especially with someone he trusts as much as Severus. I wonder..." Her voice trailed off, and she studied Hermione with a quiet intensity. "It's an interesting dynamic, don't you think?"

Hermione's mouth went dry, and for a moment, she wasn't sure how to respond. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling as though Narcissa was peeling back layers of her, searching for something she wasn't ready to reveal.

"Well," Hermione said, her voice tight, "Draco and I... we've both been through a lot. He just wants to make sure everything's alright."

Narcissa gave a slow nod, her expression unreadable. "Of course. I'm sure that's all it is."

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, and Hermione took a sip of her tea to steady herself. Narcissa's probing had been subtle, but it had left Hermione feeling vulnerable, as if she were being scrutinised not just for her relationship with Draco, but for her place in this world. The weight of expectation pressed down on her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.

After a long pause, Narcissa's smile softened, and she gracefully steered the conversation in a different direction. "Now, about your curriculum," she said, her tone lighter but no less deliberate. "I must say, your ambitions are admirable, but there are certain things that cannot simply be taught from textbooks."

Hermione exhaled slowly, grateful for the change in topic. "I've been thinking the same thing," she admitted, trying to shift her focus. "That's why I wanted to include lessons on etiquette and traditions, but I'm not sure how to structure that part of the curriculum."

Narcissa's eyes brightened slightly, and she leaned forward. "You'll need to consider more than just teaching the traditions themselves," she said smoothly. "You'll need to understand their place in our world, how they shape interactions and perceptions. Tradition is the foundation upon which our society is built, Miss Granger, and those who ignore it do so at their peril."

Hermione nodded, appreciating Narcissa's insight. "I agree. But I also want to ensure that the curriculum helps bridge the gap between different worlds. It's important that Muggle-born students understand pure-blood customs, but also that pure-blood students learn to appreciate the innovations and perspectives of the Muggle world."

Narcissa's smile widened slightly, though her gaze remained calculating. "An ambitious goal. But I believe that with the right guidance, it could be achieved. I would be more than happy to lend my expertise to the curriculum—after all, who better to teach pure-blood etiquette than someone who has lived it her entire life?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She knew Narcissa's involvement could lend credibility to her proposal, but there was something about the offer that made her uneasy. Still, it would be foolish to refuse such an opportunity.

"I'd appreciate that," Hermione said carefully. "Your knowledge would be invaluable."

Narcissa inclined her head gracefully. "I think we could create something truly meaningful together. But remember, Miss Granger, appearances and intentions must always align. If you wish to gain the trust of both worlds, you must understand how to navigate them—without upsetting the delicate balance that holds them together."

As the fire crackled softly in the background, Hermione felt the weight of Narcissa's words settle over her. The stakes were high, not just for the curriculum, but for her place in Draco's world. And if she was to succeed, she would have to learn to play the game—a game where appearances, tradition, and subtle expectations ruled everything.