A boy has a birthday, and a bonfire burns on the last night before school
The first half of the year had flown by blisteringly fast, and Draco's 11th birthday was swiftly approaching. Afterwards they'd have only a few months of summer before finally packing up and going off to school in September. The cousins had been given ample opportunities to get to know each other better since their first visit at the beginning of the year, and had indeed all become rather good friends. As much as he told himself he was still scheming and spying on them to learn as much as possible, Draco found he really did like the other children despite their wildly different upbringings and circumstances.
He, the two youngest Weasleys, and the Greyback twins were becoming quite close. Inseparable, one might even say. They often spent the afternoons together at the burrow or at the Tonks house. Occasionally they were allowed to visit the werewolf compound and play with the other children who lived there. It was surprisingly peaceful, like a quaint little country village. They had even ventured forth out into the muggle world on a few memorable occasions with Hermione's father and Mr Weasley playing guardian as they visited a library and a zoo and a museum. Draco had been thoroughly shocked by the complexity and richness of the culture the muggles had built, and the eye opening experiences had turned nearly everything he thought he knew about the world on its head.
The only place they hadn't all come together so far was his own house, Malfoy Manor, and no one had to sit him down and explain why. It was very clearly because they didn't trust his father. At first he had wanted to scream and shout that his father had been a death eater in name only, but with what he had learned about muggles and muggleborns like Mr Tonks, and werewolves like his cousins and their family, he couldn't help but start to wonder if maybe that was just as bad as having been a death eater and actually supporting in the cause. Was it not worse to stand by and let someone use you for something evil that you didn't even believe in? He loved his father, but he had questions and doubts now that made him feel funny. It didn't seem fair that he was having guilty feelings over something he had never personally done.
As he had grown closer and really started to become friends with his cousins, his mother and aunt Andy had both started pushed harder and harder on uncle Fenrir to let them start training Hermione in the ways of pureblood society and etiquette. She would need to know what was expected of her and what the boundaries of her new social rights and privileges were if she was to act as Lady Black when she joined wizarding society, they had argued relentlessly. And wasn't that whole situation still a surprise every time he thought about it?
If he was being honest it was a tremendous relief, really. For the longest time they had thought that there simply wasn't anyone else available or eligible to take the seat. He'd always sort of figured that the Black family would either die out or that he'd have to take up the mantle of both his houses when he was of age, being forced to juggle the Black and Malfoy households and responsibilities. His mother had been simultaneously preparing herself for the potential despair of her house falling, and him for the potential burden of carrying her house as well as his father's. It was good news all around that neither of those unfavorable outcomes would take place.
As he sat in his mother's solar observing yet another frustrating etiquette lesson, he shook his head in flummoxed disbelief at his normally brilliant cousin's bizarre lack of knowledge about their society. He'd said it before but it was like she had been raised by wolves… heh, literally. In her defense he'd learned all of this so young it had sort of just been forced into his mind without much personal reflection or analysis. Looking at it from the outside as an older child capable of more complex thought, it occurred to him that some of the things his mother and aunt were trying to teach her might not make complete or total sense.
The table rules they were trying to get her to learn were not even remotely observed at the burrow, nor at her own home, or even at the Tonks' house when his mother wasn't there. Hermione was clever and absorbed the information like a swotty little sponge, but it was more than apparent that the knowledge of all the forks and spoons and knives and plates and bowls and cups and goblets of a proper formal place setting would never be useful in her daily life. There had to be a better use of the time they had left to teach her, this banal minutia seemed unnecessary. He was momentarily scandalized that he'd even had such a plebeian thought. No matter how dull the subject he was sure his mother had the best of intentions. A bitter sense of resentment arose as he realized that he shouldn't have had to learn this either, and his own time spent memorizing all the stupid little details had been wasted as well.
The Weasleys never ate with more a single set of cutlery, but they were still polite and mannerly about their meals. They leaned their elbows on the table while eating sometimes to hear each other better or if they were talking about something that got their blood up, and the table didn't flip or even creak indecorously. None of his cousins had ever had their shoulders tied to the backs of their chairs to learn to sit up straight, or had their ring and pinky fingers tied curled into their palms so they couldn't use them to hold their silverware in a fisted grip. He knew because he'd asked, and they'd looked at him like he belonged in the Janus Thickey ward before emphatically telling him that no they absolutely had not.
He didn't love it that the boys sometimes spoke with their mouths full or often ate more than he thought was socially polite, but the world hadn't ended when they behaved that way. It had been jarring to say the least. It had made him think that his mother, who admittedly treated him like he was a little prince, had probably had those things done to her as well as a child, if not worse things that she wouldn't have ever inflicted on him because she loved him so dearly. His father had always heavily implied that his grandmother Druella had been a heartless demon of a woman, and he strongly suspected that his mother's etiquette training had most likely been much more strict than his own. Less gentle to say the very least.
And so with many tumultuous thoughts swirling around his head he found himself a bit disgusted at the idea of having to learn the place for every utensil on a table setting, and the order that people at a dinner table were to be addressed in, and the correct way to hold and use a fork and what the different positions on a plate the fork was angled at meant to the waitstaff. It suddenly rang hollow to him as being stupid beyond belief that there was a secret fork language for whether or not you were done eating. Not to mention the secret language of flower arrangements, and the secret language of dress texture and color, and the secret language of subtle eye contact and body posture. There were so many intricate unspoken secret rules and rituals. Why were they like this? Why didn't they just say what they meant?
He found himself panting, and as if waking from a trance he noticed two red spots flushed high on his mothers cheeks and realized he'd loudly exclaimed his last thought to the room at large. Bugger… He felt the tips of his ears grow hot and steadfastly ignored his cousin who he could tell was on the verge of laughter, her hand clamped tightly over her mouth and her eyes wide with delight at his outburst. "Please forgive me ladies, my mind was elsewhere" he attempted weakly, to clear disapproval from both adult parties.
Like the Lone Ranger, his cousin rode in to save the day. Thank bloody Merlin.
"Really Drah-co, our fine manners are how we tell all of our friends acquaintances and enemies that we respect them and appreciate their time and presence, even if we secretly don't!" Hermione said with a horrendously bad posh accent, her hand clutching her non-existent pearls, with her nose high in the air and a reproachful look in her eye. He couldn't help but giggle at the ludicrous display. Even his mother chuckled politely, though she was still glaring daggers at him. His aunt Andy seemed absolutely overjoyed, but then again she adored the girl and praised anything and everything she did. Hermione could fart at the dinner table and aunt Andy would probably compliment her pitch and intonation.
He had noticed early on that she was never one to stand on ceremony except at the manor, it was like she was a different person here than she was everywhere else. Thankfully though Hermione's joke seemed to have finally broken the ice enough to loosen her up a bit. She sighed, her eyes still crinkled in amusement and the smile on her face bright "Oh wouldn't you say they've done enough for one day Cissy? Let's let them have the rest of the afternoon to go play, hmm" she said cheerfully, to which his mother agreed without a second thought.
Not wanting to push their luck, the two children locked eyes in disbelief before politely thanking the adults and dashing away out to the grounds. The second they crossed the doorway Hermione made a running leap forward in the air as a girl and landed on all fours as a little brown wolf. Shaking her fur out, she ran in happy circles around him yipping and barking and then took off across the lawns like a dart towards the pond. He excitedly jogged after her. It was a nice warm sunny day and she could float like a cork in the water. They would have lots of fun throwing sticks and stones for her to chase.
Passing the abraxan stables, he was surprised to see his father outside tending to one of the animals himself. It was a task he almost always left to the house elves except for when he was showing off to other gentlemen who could only afford horses. He peeked his head in and was absolutely gobsmacked to see his father up to his elbows in a mare's rear end. He blinked and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating "Father? What are you doing?" He cried when the sight before him remained the same.
His father's cheeks were bright red as he whipped his head around, and he pulled his arm out with a horrifying squelch "Honestly Draco what in Salazar's name do you think I'm doing? Keep your voice down or you'll spook them all!" father shook his head and took a long glove off of his arm. He didn't want to think about why it was wet. Gross, so gross.
His father was rather agitated, and he patted the abraxan's rump absentmindedly "I thought poor Buttermane was too old to have another foal, but it seems like she's pregnant again. I was really hoping she'd just started getting a bit fat. I tried to keep those wretched stallions away from her but one of them must have been determined. They're too valuable as studs to geld, and now I might lose my best mare because she's… in the family way past her prime" he said with a surprising sadness in his voice. Draco recalled being told once that Buttermane had been a gift to his father from his grandmother, the first abraxan he had ever gotten and the matriarch who had birthed most of the other animals in their small herd.
Though their relationship might be awkward at times, and though he might be currently undergoing some troubling realizations about the man's complicity in war crimes, at the end of the day he loved his father. Thinking about the mental breakthrough he'd had earlier, about their upper crust society being so needlessly stuffy and secretive and withholding, he decided to forego convention and see where being open and vulnerable might take them. Not giving himself a chance to change his mind, he rushed forward and hugged his father tightly, thoroughly ignoring whatever unspeakable substances might be on that arm.
"I'm sure she's going to be fine father, you always take really good care of her" he said as reassuringly as he knew how. His father was still for a moment, and as that moment stretched he was briefly terrified that he would be rebuffed. But then he felt hands pat his shoulders and back "Thank you son, I think that's just what I needed to hear. Logically, I know she's in fine health. I just worry because she's the last thing I have to remember my mother by. She would have loved you so much, Draco. You remind me of her constantly" his father said softly. He almost sobbed at the tenderness in his voice, he couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to him like that. If ever.
"You should come play with us by the pond, father. Get your mind off of your worries for a bit" he suggested hopefully, even while knowing that was probably a bridge too far for the stern man. To his utmost surprise, his father smiled amiably and agreed. As they made their way out of the barn and towards the pond, it occurred to him that he wasn't sure if his father had ever seen Hermione transformed up close or not. For a split second he was terrified that she might act too aggressively dog-like and he might hex her out of instinct. He needn't have worried though.
She was waiting for them patiently by the water, and wagged her tail eagerly as they approached. As active and reckless a child as she was, her keen intuition always caught him off guard. It was like she could tell that his father was hesitant and maybe even a bit fearful. She stood on her two hind legs and crossed one of her front legs over her chest with the other splayed out wide, ducking her head as low as she could without falling back over. It was a clever pantomime of a very flamboyant courtly bow, and it was apparently exactly what his father needed to see to know she wasn't a danger.
His father laughed a deep belly laugh and copied her motions exaggeratedly. Left hand over his chest, right hand in the air with a flourish, left foot back left leg bent, right foot forward right leg straight, bent fully at the waist. It had gone out of style over a hundred and fifty years ago, but could still be seen every now and again among the very old fashioned. He didn't think he'd ever seen his father bow like that before, and he certainly couldn't remember the past time he'd seen him so playful, and a shocked giggle bubbled up and escaped his mouth before he could stop himself.
They spent the next half hour tossing a quaffle his father had summoned into the pond for Hermione to swim and chase after. Dobby brought them out cool drinks that were deliciously refreshing, and they basked in the lovely sunny afternoon. At one point Hermione came over and shifted back and forth from wolf to human to take a sip of her drink, and then back to wolf again so quick he'd have missed it if he hadn't been looking in that direction. He laughed and called her a show off like her brother often did, but his father seemed perturbed by the sight.
When he next tossed the ball it went extra far, he must have put a bit of a repulsing spell onto it. As she dashed off to chase after it his father spoke to him in such a low voice he had to strain to hear "I was never quite as adept at transfiguration as your mother is, sad to say. More of a dab hand at charms. If I didn't know better I'd swear that girl is an animagus the way she transforms so seamlessly. So… painlessly. Whatever she is Draco, I don't believe your cousin is truly a werewolf. She's something special, something entirely different. Her father might be a werewolf, and she might live in a werewolf pack, but I've seen wild lone werewolves transform and the sight is like something out of a nightmare."
"When I was… in the service of the Dark Lord. He had a few in his entourage that he like to make fight each other for sport. It was absolutely horrific to witness, when the full moon rose they screamed like they were dying and you could hear their bones breaking and twisting from across the room. It was one of the worst things I've ever seen in my entire life. There was no human mind to be seen when they were transformed, and they tore into each other like beasts. I don't know if any of them actually survived those fights. It's what I was terrified would become of us when your cousin came into our lives, and I'm glad to say it's something we seemingly no longer have to fear after having seen her like this. But still I'm left curious and confused. What is she, because I don't believe for a moment that she could possibly be the same as those poor miserable creatures I saw once"
Draco had no idea how to respond, and thoughts spun through his head as he took in what his father had revealed to him. But then he recalled one of his very first visits to the burrow "I've heard them talk about how she was born a werewolf, and that she shifted for the very first time when she was only a three week old baby. Uncle Fenrir always insists that a peaceful transformation is an aspect of embracing the wolf and having a pack. Maybe that's the difference, father. It sounds like those werewolves you saw transform didn't have anyone else to teach them any better" he speculated a bit meekly as he looked down and away, not wanting to cause upset or offense. He hugged his knees to his chest. He didn't really understand how such a small thing as self-acceptance could have such a big physical difference. But then again he'd never heard his cousin's bones break while she shifted. Just the thought of it was awful.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her slink closer slowly and low to the ground as if sensing the atmosphere between them had become awkward and not wanting to interrupt. She laid her head on his leg and looked up at him with a question in her big intelligent silvery eyes. He sighed and ran his fingers through the silky fur on her ears, rubbing his thumb into the velvety skin inside the ear itself. Her eyes fluttered shut and her back leg started to thump the ground reflexively. He huffed a laugh and she whined at him, and under his breath so his father wouldn't hear he apologized for gossiping. At regular speaking volume for his father's sake he said "I'm pretty sure she caught all of that. Her hearing is ridiculously good. I can see it in your eyes Nene, if you want to know you should just ask" He encouraged gently, and saw his father stiffen out of the corner of his eye. "Forgive me Miss Hermione, I shouldn't have spoken of such things" he said between clenched teeth.
With a rush of familiar shimmery green sparkles she was her human self again, and she shook her head emphatically "Please don't feel bad uncle Lucius, I was the one who eavesdropped without you knowing. Dad always says the loners are different from us, violent and dangerous, but he never says much more. Is it really so terrible for them as all that?" She asked rather innocently, and he wondered how much of it was artifice. She was quite good at getting information from adults by playing up the curious little girl act, he'd seen her use it to great success on numerous occasions.
Whether it was genuine or not his father bought into it hook line and sinker, and his face immediately softened. He supposed that just must be the effect girls had on the parents of boys. "I'm afraid that's what I've seen, dear girl. I don't know if the average werewolf truly lives every day in such abject misery, but rumor would have us believe that they certainly shift that way. The Dark Lord took particular sadistic amusement in the pain and suffering of others, and he loved nothing more than to see those who he thought were beneath him tear themselves apart at his command. He would often order his lieutenants to torture their subordinates for no reason at all. The werewolves he brought in were forced to transform and battle to the death like dogs in a fighting ring. It was brutal and terrible to see, but not staying and watching would have made me a target of his wrath. He wanted everyone else to enjoy the show and relish in the cruelty just as much as he did"
He had never heard his father actually sound guilty about anything before, even when he had sat him down last year and talked to him about his history as a death eater. At the time he had been frightened, but not exactly guilty or particularly remorseful. Here now talking to his cousin, a werewolf, about the ways that werewolves suffered under the hand of his former master, his father sounded sad and ashamed. He wasn't sure what to make of it, and for the second time in as many minutes wondered if it was genuine or artifice.
Hermione tilted her head to the side like he'd seen a puppy do once, and furrowed her brow "My dad takes good care of us as the alpha, but he would have us never see or interact with the loners. He thinks they're too dangerous to reason with. But some have joined our pack over the years, the ones who have come to the compound for refuge and begged sanctuary, and he lets them in if they swear to stay. It's never made sense to me, I know he has a good heart. Why would he ignore the ones who are alone if they're suffering" she said, more to herself than to either of them. He thought about that himself for a moment and didn't have a good answer.
His father had a pained expression on his face "The muggles have a queer little saying regarding travel safety on their aeroplanes. I had to take a flight on one for business once and I'll never do it again as long as I live, but the stewardess said something that's stayed with me since. When she was describing how air masks for breathing would fall from the ceiling in an emergency, she said that adults must always put their own on before helping their children. I thought this was cruel and nonsensical, why on earth would a parent not make every effort to protect their child first and foremost? In that instant I thought everything I'd ever heard my peers say about muggles must be true. Their barbarism really did know no bounds. However, a moment later the passenger next to me casually remarked that you have a better likelihood of saving both yourself and also your child if they lose consciousness then a child could ever possibly have of saving you and themselves should you be the one who passes out. Even still it took me time to further reflect and really make sense of it. It doesn't leave you feeling particularly good or noble, but sometimes you have to make sure your own house is in order before you can do anything to help your neighbors" he said as if he'd imparted a greatly meaningful lesson. That hadn't been what he'd expected him to talk about at all… his father looked at the two of them with a wry smile.
"I'm sure your father does care Miss Hermione, but keeping you and your brother and your whole pack safe will always be his first priority before he can reach out to other werewolves who might not even know he can help them, let alone want him to do so. People in a difficult situation often reject help to give comfort to their own sense of pride or self-reliance. It may be that he has tried to help in the past and been burned, desperate individuals will sometimes bite the hand that tries to feed them" his father reasoned, sounding much more like the man Draco knew and was familiar with. The one who had a smooth excuse or justification for any offense given and any bad behavior he was no longer proud of. He should have known the complex and compelling father from earlier was only a temporary visitor.
He rolled his eyes and looked away, hugging his knees to his chest and feeling utterly bereft. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it still stung to think of his father angry at a muggle on his child's behalf only to realize they were right and he should prioritize his own safety first every time. What a thing to say to your son - and it was even meant to be comforting! Of course that would be the first and only thing he had ever thought was worthwhile from their society. An iron clad sense of self preservation. His father probably cared more about that bloody horse that was up the duff than he did his own flesh and blood.
It took all his etiquette training to keep a pleasant face for the rest of the afternoon until his cousin went home. She gave him a knowing look and an extra tight hug on her way to the floo, and he knew he hadn't fooled her. Bugger. She really was too intuitive for her own good.
Dinner came and went perfectly normally. At the firm insistence of his elf Whimby he reluctantly took a bath, although he supposed he had rolled around outside on the grass and a scrub was due. He had just put on his coziest fluffiest fleeciest pajamas and was crawling into his bed when his mother came to tuck him in. She leaned down to brush his damp hair away from his forehead, and he held onto her hand and tugged it until she was sitting next to him, a soft and sweet expression blooming upon her face. "What is it, my darling dragon? Are you feeling like a cuddly boy this evening?" She asked in the special silly voice that she only ever used when they were alone. For a moment he considered shaking his head and reminding her that he was nearly a man grown already, but a bit of a cuddle sounded like just what he needed actually.
Accepting her arm around his shoulders and placing his head upon her chest he fidgeted and thought about what he wanted to say "Mummy, if there were an emergency and you had to… cast a bubblehead charm on both of us to keep us from drowning or inhaling poison fumes or something terrible like that, whose would you do first - mine or yours?" He asked quietly and nervously, suddenly worried she'd say the same thing his father had. She looked down at him askance, both of her elegant blonde brows raised to her hairline practically. "Merlin and Morgana, Draco - of course I'd do yours! Your precious little lungs are not as large or as developed as mine, and could not survive nearly the same amount of distress and debris and detritus," she hugged him close, and sniffed "what in Salazar's name has made you think of such a thing, my darling?"
He avoided her gaze tight lipped, not wanting to say. She tugged on his ear gently, "Tell me what's on your mind my dragon" she prodded. He hesitated. She had said what he had wanted to hear, but it hadn't felt like the relief he thought it would. She hadn't heard what the muggle had said and she didn't know why they did it that way. In a rush he told her of the entire conversation and the confusing jumble of how it had made him feel.
She cooed at him, stroking his hair and rubbing circles on his back "Your father may often have ulterior motives, but he loves you very much Draco. Almost as much as I do. However in this instance I'm afraid he might actually be right. Think about what would happen if we were in a building that was on fire and I cast your bubblehead charm first and promptly fainted from smoke inhalation! You'd be able to breathe, but we'd both still be stuck in a burning building. You wouldn't be able to lift me without magic, you most likely wouldn't be able to use my wand if you tried, and even if you could you wouldn't know how to cast a bubble head charm on me or a levitating charm to safely get me out of the fire. And then even if you somehow managed to what if there were fallen walls trapping us inside? My instinct as a mother tells me it's my duty to protect you first, but doing my own charm first might keep you safer in the long run. It's a more complicated question than I would have thought dearest, and I'm not surprised your father said what he did. He's really very practical that way" she said thoughtfully.
He supposed that sort of made sense. Uuuuhhhgh why did she always have to be so perfectly reasonable? If what she said was correct, then maybe his father hadn't really been acting like a slippery weasel. Maybe he really had been thinking of how to put his son's best wellbeing before his own. He supposed he shouldn't have been so quick to jump to such an uncharitable conclusion, but knowing what he did it was difficult to see his father in the best light these days.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As the sun rose on the morning of his birthday, Draco was woken abruptly and the breath was forced from his lungs by two boys a girl and a wolf jumping on his bed and piling on top of him. The children cheered and the wolf howled happily, and the noise was overwhelming to the boy who had been dreaming only moments before. Catching his breath, he rubbed the morning crust from his eyes and drool from his mouth "Salazar's sagging sack," he grumbled "I don't want to know how you'd have woken me up if you didn't like me!" He said with a dry chuckle.
The wolf yipped and her brother laughed heartily "Yeah, a lot more teeth would have been involved" he proclaimed with a grin "Happy birthday, mate!" Harry said, wiggling up to recline next to him against the plush headboard. The other children echoed his sentiment cheerfully. Hermione shifted back into her human form with a puckish smile on her fey little face, and pulled a large package out of her pocket that shouldn't have been able to fit inside it. His eyes narrowed accusingly, and she sheepishly admitted that her older brother Matthias had expanded it for her while practicing his charms spell work. Without much further fanfare, she handed it to him and wished him a happy birthday. The paper was silvery holographic cellophane, and it crinkled as he rotated it in his hands.
Finding the seam with the edge of his fingernail, he tore through the tape and unwrapped it excitedly. He knew better than to say it aloud or he would surely risk being called a materialistic little princeling, but he really did so love getting gifts. Birthdays and Christmas and Easter and any other holiday that could remotely be finagled into a gift-giving occasion. Pulling back the paper, his breath left him when he saw what it held nestled within "…You didn't" he whispered breathlessly, a disbelieving laugh building in the back of his throat.
It was so ugly, he absolutely loved it. He had nearly fallen down laughing when they saw an advert for them in the window of a store in muggle London, and he couldn't believe they'd actually gotten him one. It was a troll doll - a little rubberized orangey-brown bloke with crazy pink candy floss hair and a starry blue robe and pointed hat and a little golden wand taped to its hand. It had pointed ears like a house elf, frighteningly dead shiny black eyes, a manically happy grin, and a nubby squashed nose that actually looked quite a bit like the Parkinson girls now that he thought about it…
"I'm going to call it Tonks" he announced proudly, to laughter all around from his cousins. His chest swelled with pride that he had family his own age that enjoyed his company, and that he could make laugh. They liked him for the things he said and did, not because of how much gold was in the family vaults or how far his pedigree went back. The friendships he had with other pureblood children seemed shallow in comparison. He and Theo were good mates and always would be, and Daphne and Astoria were alright for society girls, but after such a great start to his birthday he dreaded the idea of having to spend the rest of it with the traditional Slytherin circle he knew would be in attendance.
He suddenly had a brilliant idea, and he hurried to the side of the bed and onto his feet before he could change his mind. Looking over his shoulder at the four of them still perched on his bed in confusion, he grinned and told them to come along and help. They eagerly scampered after him, out of his room and through the manor all the way to the small dining room his mother always used. He took in several breaths to psyche himself up, and strode in confidently with a smile he knew she thought made him look handsome.
Looking up from her morning oats she smiled and stood "Well hello children, I wasn't expecting to see you all again so soon! And happy birthday, my darling dragon. You may not yet be a man, but today you are a wizard" she proclaimed joyously "This came for you a few minutes ago, dearest. I was going to deliver it to you before your party but I just couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you open it!" She said excitedly, and holding it reverently with both hands she passed him what could only be his Hogwarts Letter. The wind was taken out of his sails a bit, but he was no less excited to see it than he might have been otherwise.
He sat heavily in the chair next to her, and gestured for his cousins to take their seats around the table as well. Ron had gotten his a few months ago in March, and Ginny wouldn't get hers for nearly another year still. He had heard the story of how Harry and Hermione hadn't actually gotten theirs on their birthday last year and that it had instead stayed with professor McGonagall until she had gone to visit them at their home, and he felt tremendous sympathy for them that they had missed the magic of this wonderful milestone. He couldn't imagine how devastated he would be if this precious letter he'd been waiting for his entire life had been delayed by even a day.
The ink that spelled out his name on the front of the envelope was nearly the exact same shade of emerald green as Harry's eyes and as the magic that surrounded Hermione when she shifted. He could scarcely bring himself to look away from it.
Draco Malfoy
The blue bedroom suite
Malfoy Manor
Near Biddestone Village
Wiltshire county, England
It knew! He heard but mostly ignored his cousin quoting from that book about the school she was always reading and rereading, apparently there were a magically bound book and quill that wrote out the name and address of every magical child in the British isles. He adored her but she never shut up about that book! He looked at her a bit harshly with narrowed eyes and she sheepishly grinned and urged him to open it already.
The contents of it were more or less unremarkable, a list of required supplies and a form letter telling him he had a place at the school. There wasn't anything in it that he didn't know or hadn't been expecting, but it still felt like an accomplishment nonetheless. He was officially a wizard, and the place where wizards learned their magic was where he officially belonged. There hadn't been any doubt about it, but his chest felt warm with happiness all the same and he was glad for the good company while he read it.
Looking up at his mother who was beaming and looked more than a bit watery-eyed, he tried to think of how best to word his request. "Mother I know it's quite short notice, but can we cancel the party and do something with just the cousins instead for my birthday? We had such fun the times we went out with uncle Arthur and uncle Fenrir to muggle London, do you think maybe we could go again somewhere we haven't been to yet? Would that be too much trouble? I know you've been planning it for a long time, but it just wont be the same if they can't be there" he pushed as much softness and vulnerability and youth into his voice as he possibly could without utterly humiliating himself, and widened his eyes dramatically "I'd really like to celebrate with family today if that's alright" he added for a bit of extra oomph.
He could see from the tender wobbly look in her eyes that the last bit had done its job, and it took everything he had not to crow with glee "Oh that's such a lovely sentiment, my darling boy. Family really is the most important thing... Alright, yes! Yes I don't see why not. We'll have to send out notices of cancellation and apology to your guests but I'll see to that, don't you worry about it one bit. I'll tell people the whole house has come down with bowtruckle flu, that should help keep even the most determined guests away for the day" she said, rustling her skirts and summoning a stack of parchment.
She looked at the other children "Ronald, why don't you go ahead and use the floo to call your father and have him come along through with your mother and the rest of your siblings. Harry, you do the same when he's done. Ginny and Hermione, why don't you girls help Draco decide where he'd like for us all to go today hmm? Something we can do as a large group without drawing too much attention or suspicion" she clapped her hands happily and elegantly wrote out a brief note while calling for one of the Malfoy elves "Mimby! Yes, hello dear. I need you to take this to Andromeda, please" she commanded gently, handing it off to the little elf who bowed and popped away.
She cleared her throat delicately and Harry and Ron promptly rushed off to the entrance hall to use the floo as she'd instructed. The girls came around the table to sit closer to him and start brainstorming, and he made eye contact with his mother "Thank you, I know you love parties and you probably worked really hard planning this one, and I'm sure it would have been wonderful" he said to her, stretching his hands out so he can grab hers and squeeze them. Her eyes softened and she smiled beautifully, turning her hands over so she can hold his and squeeze them back "Thank you my dragon, but there's always another occasion for a party, and I'm sure you'll be a perfect little gentleman at all the other ones I'll be throwing this summer to make up for it" she said with a smirk.
…Bugger.
The last night in August saw the pack celebrating bitter sweetly with an outdoor party in the central pavilion of the compound. Everyone brought a dish or a desert to share, and her father had set up a barbecue cooker and grilled meats all evening. Hermione had lost count of how many hotdogs and hamburgers she'd eaten, and he'd laughed and sworn she was about to have the mother of all growth spurts. He hadn't wanted her to see, but there had been a sadness in his eyes as he said it. If it happened while she was away at school he would miss it. He would miss a lot of her firsts while she spent the year away.
Remus had spent the afternoon telling her and Harry stories about the fun he'd had during his years at Hogwarts, and what the castle was like. He told them everything he could remember about the ghosts who floated through the halls, the happy little elves who worked to feed everyone down in the kitchens, the squid that lived in the lake and sunned itself on the surface when the weather was fine.
There was a sadness there too like she'd seen in her father, born from those lovely stories. Both abject sorrow in him for all that he'd lost over the years, and a more subtle mourning in the other magical children who'd listened and realized just how much they'd never get to see and be a part of. Her rage and fury at the injustice burned in her chest for them. She would see change happen, whether the wizarding world liked it or not. With the goddesses as her witness, she silently vowed that werewolves would have rights and their children would get to go to school. It wasn't a matter of if, but when.
As night began to fall the party began to wind down and the younger children were dragged home by their parents. Her father's beta came to sit next to her by the main fire pit with a calculated look about him. She'd heard the stories of some of the pranks Harry's father and his friends had pulled while they were students, and even seen first hand some of the antics Fred and George had gotten up to over the summer. For all that he never played tricks or pranks on anyone, Ófnir had the most mischievous air of anyone she'd ever met. There was a perpetual twinkle of amusement in his eyes, and even in the most serious situations there was always an upwards curl to the corners of his mouth.
In a funny way he almost reminded her of Santa, who she'd once heard referred to as a jolly old elf, and she thought it was particularly apt. "Halló litla" [hello little one] he said to her conversationally in his native Icelandic, his voice deep and rumbling but his words musical to her ears all the same. She understood it better than she spoke it, and it took her a second to formulate her response "Skemmtirðu þér vel?" [are you having a nice time?] she asked him haltingly.
He only grimaced slightly at her terrible accent, hiding it almost immediately with a kind smile "I appreciate your efforts little alpha, but please do my ears a kindness and stick to the wretched Danish your colonizer father made you poor children learn" he said merrily, without a hint of the scorn or distaste that his words implied. She couldn't help the graceless snort that left her nose, and she shook her head at him "How can you sound so nice while you say such rude things Offy? I feel like you and Narcissa would get along really well, she's good at that too" she said with a giggle as she imagined the two of them interacting. It would be a sweet sounding snarkfest.
He laughed with her for a moment, but then his face became as serious as she'd ever seen it. When he turned fully to the side to look at her, his green eyes felt piercing and hypnotic, and she sobered instantly "What is it, Offy?" She asked, voice low and ready to obey whatever her father's beta told her she needed to do. Somehow she instinctually knew he had a task for her.
"I have something very important to tell you little Nene. Ever since we discovered what the outside world thinks about your father, I've been on the trail of who started the rumors. Whoever they are, they chose to hurt our alpha and our pack in a way we might never recover from, in a way that has made us vulnerable. I don't like it, the whole thing smells rotten to me. I wanted to get to the bottom of it, find out who came up with the lies and why they did it" Hermione gasped softly "You found something out. What do you know?" she breathed, scarcely believing that he was trusting her with this information, hoping he would stay in a talkative mood and wouldn't come to his senses and clam up any time soon. He looked at her thoughtfully, and tilted his head back and forth.
"Yes and no. There are a lot of trails that double back and go cold. Whoever our enemy is, they're wily and they know how to cover their tracks well. I'm still not sure who they are, but I've unearthed what I think their motivation may be. All of these vicious lies about your father being bloodthirsty and evil, that he was a death eater, that he ate children, these rumors started with the explicit intention of demonizing werewolves. Someone wanted us to be hated and feared, to have no rights under the law, to be targeted by the aurors and the law enforcement. The terrible circumstances in society that we currently find ourselves in have been entirely engineered by this person over the last few decades"
Her temper ignited as if fueled by an accelerant. She shook with rage, eyes flashing silver and her little claws popping out of the tips of her fingers "Why? Why would they do this to us Offy? Why do they hate us so much?" And even the firm press of his hand on her shoulder could only do so much to steady her. He was impressed by the magnitude of her anger, but also by her control. He hesitated, and she couldn't bear the thought of not having the satisfaction of at least understanding this plight her people had been suffering under. She snarled at him weakly, and his eyebrows rose in amusement at her sheer nerve.
"There's a very old prophecy. It was made hundreds and hundreds of years ago by one of my ancestors before they came here from Iceland. The exact wording of it had been lost to time and translation, but it was about a werewolf who is going to save the world. I was very surprised to find out that the person who hurt us knows about it, and they want to stop it from coming true. Someday, maybe soon, there's going to be a terrible disaster that a werewolf is destined to stop. And whoever is out there hates us so much that they don't want that to happen. They don't even want us to have a chance to be good, and do something to help people. They'd rather people be hurt and killed than have us as their heroes" and for the first time since they started talking he sounded genuinely quite angry.
She had no response, she couldn't wrap her head around it. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, and tried not to cry. She breathed in and out raggedly "Why are you telling me this Offy - what can I even do, I'm just a kid?" She looked up at him in despair "I don't even know any good spells yet!" She wailed forlornly. He smoothed his hand over her curly hair, shushing her softly.
"I'm telling you because you're a very special little wolf, Hermione. You're brave and smart and strong and most importantly you love your people. I think you might just be the werewolf the prophecy tells us about. I have no idea what the disaster is exactly or when it might happen, so I wanted to tell you now to stay on your guard and be alert to any dangers around you. I understand that you may need to try and blend in a bit with the humans at that school of yours, but whatever you do don't forget to use your wolf abilities if you need them! Listen to what your ears tell you and trust your nose. Let yourself adjust but never dull your senses, not even for a minute, and not even if you get overwhelmed at first" he instructed emphatically, and she nodded and promised she wouldn't.
She felt deeply humbled by his faith in her, but a thought rose to the forefront of her mind that she couldn't ignore "You haven't told dad about this" she accused softly, knowing he hadn't but not understanding why. His face fell, and for a fraction of a second he looked both very old and very sad. "You know why I can't. Your father is brave and strong too, but you're his precious treasure. If he knew what an important destiny you have in store for you, he'd never let you leave this comfortable nest to go face it. I hate going behind my alpha's back like this, it's causing me physical pain. But you have to know what's coming, and you have to be allowed to gain all the strength you need to meet whatever you might encounter on equal footing. You deserve to be trained as a wolf and as a witch, it's your heritage and your inheritance"
She felt wonderstruck at his words. The idea that she had some grand destiny wasn't too ground shaking, she had already known she'd been destined to be the alpha someday. That it was something outside of her circle of home and pack and familiarity was big and scary, and she wasn't quite sure how to feel. She looked up at him with pleading eyes "Can I at least tell Harry about it?" He thought about this, and she appreciated his consideration. It would have been ridiculously easy to simply tell her no, and she was glad he was at least thinking about it.
"I think Harry is probably the only other person who you could talk to about this who would actually understand. I don't know any of the details of it, but there were rumors during the war that the reason his parents were targeted by the Dark Lord was because of a prophecy. If it's true that you're both touched by the fates, then it's a gift from magic and the goddesses that you two children found each other" he said with a gentle and heartfelt smile.
He bit his thumb with one of his canines, and pressed the blood that welled up from it into the middle of her forehead in what felt like a crescent. Then he picked up her hands and held them loosely in his own much larger ones, and his eyes closed shut. He began to hum and rock back and forth, and as he invoked his magic it began to manifest around him in spiraling ribbons that were the color of the bottom of an iceberg. When he spoke his voice echoed strangely in his chest and reverberated.
"In the name of my ladies Selene, of Artemis, of Hekate, the goddesses of the full moon, the half moon, and the dark moon, I ask for protection for your child Hermione Elena Greyback. I ask for a blessing upon her of wisdom, of insight, of awareness. I ask for her senses to guide her truly, for her ears and her eyes and her nose to be sharp. I ask for her life to be held safe in your gentle embrace, and her magic to be cultivated and enriched as she learns and grows. I ask for every goodness and favor you have to be bestowed upon her, for your own hands to guide her, and for her path forward to be clear. In the name of my ladies Selene, of Artemis, of Hekate, the goddesses of the full moon, the half moon, and the dark moon, do I beg the blessing and protection of your child"
In an answering rush she felt her own magic invoke itself around her, ribbons of her emerald green dancing like the aurora and mixing with his in a spectacular light show that caught the attention of the remaining partygoers. His eyes glowed as he opened them, and she felt hers shift and flash as well. Something else touched the edge of her magic, and at first she wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps some of the Black family magic, but she quickly rejected that. It was something altogether different. Ethereal silver ribbons of light joined their magic, pulsing and thrumming over her skin.
She looked up at the moon in the sky above them. It was a lovely waning gibbous, and as always she could feel its light on her skin with the faint weight of a bedsheet. As she gazed at the moon, she suddenly felt strongly and certainly as if something aware and curious was gazing back. It was a very warm and lovely feeling, and she closed her eyes and let her skin and her magic drink it in.
As beta of their pack, Ófnir often served as their spiritual leader in events such as this. Performing communions and blessings and rites and rituals wasn't uncommon, but this one had been public and particularly visually exceptional. As the light show began to fade, the pack members that were still present in the pavilion fell collectively to their knees. Murmurs of awe and whispers filled the air.
Ófnir rose to his feet and addressed them "A blessing for the little wolf as we send her off away from home, it ended up being a bit more powerful than I expected. She is much beloved by the goddesses!" He announced loudly. The wolves around them clapped and cheered, and her father smiled at her with pride. Next to him, her brother gave her a cheeky thumbs up, and she grinned at him and nodded. They would have a long talk when they finally got some privacy on the train the next day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
That night as she was snuggled tight in her warm bed, halfway between sleep and awake, Hermione heard raised voices downstairs in the kitchen. Unwilling to pull herself from her delicious nest of blankets, she rolled onto her back so both ears were free, and concentrated her hearing.
Her father and Ófnir were arguing about something, she could tell that much right away. One of them was pacing the floor, heart rate steadily rising. She suspected that was her father, he often had restless energy he needed to move to work off "There are things you're not telling me, and I'm sick of it" he growled "I have a right to know - especially when it's about my own daughter!"
Her eyebrows shot up and her ears pricked, she bit her lip nervously. Ófnir had said he wasn't going to tell her father, but he was obligated to be truthful to his alpha if he was asked directly. She suppressed a sub-vocal whine in the back of her throat, now wasn't the time. "Lad, I could tell you if you really need me to, but it would change things and I still don't think you're ready to know it yet. You've trusted me for years, why are you doubting me now?" Her father's beta asked him plaintively. Instead of exploding angrily at that she was shocked to hear her father whine and sniffle.
"I don't know, Ófnir. Everything is already changing, my little girl is leaving. I can't go with her and I can't protect her. I feel so useless and helpless. I feel like I'm waiting to get a limb amputated, like I won't be the same and she won't be the same if I let her go. What if she comes back different?" her father groaned despondently, and she felt horrible. She had no idea her leaving was affecting him this much.
She crawled out of her bed miserably, slinking down the hallway on socked feet, and sat on the top stair hugging the bannister. She heard glasses clinking and liquid pouring, and caught a whiff of the oaky smoky smell of her father's preferred bourbon. She grimaced, he was only going to feel worse tomorrow if he drank tonight. Her brother's door opened with a quiet creak, and a second later he settled onto the step next to her and leaned his head on her shoulder silently.
In the kitchen her father was only getting himself more worked up "And what about my boy - if I let him leave my side now will I ever even see him again? Dumbledore took him and hid him away with those muggles and no one else did a thing about it. What if he gets a wild hair up his arse and decides I'm not fit to keep my son? Who's going to defend my nonexistent parental rights against the man who killed Grindelwald if he thinks I shouldn't get to continue raising my own child?" He raged, and they heard his glass smash into the wall and the shards tinkle as they rained down on the floor.
To their horror, they heard him start to sob raggedly "What if a death eater takes them from me and kills them? I know they're strong, but they're just children for the goddesses sake. How can they defend themselves against adults who might want to do them harm, or steal them away, or be cruel to them because of the name I've saddled them with?" They clutched each others hands desperately, and they both had tears in their eyes.
Hermione shot to her feet, intent on going to her father and comforting him. Her brother pulled on their joined hands and stopped her "He's too upset" he whispered "he'll just be embarrassed we heard him, and then he'll feel even worse" he reasoned logically, and she couldn't think of a good argument other than "but you heard how scared and sad he is Harry, he needs us" she pleaded back.
He sighed and pressed his fingers into the corners of his sleepy eyes "I don't think it's a good idea, they're going to be mad at us for eavesdropping" she scoffed "Eavesdropping is my middle name. If it was supposed to be private they should have known better to say it less than a mile away" and she dragged him down the stairs with her and up to the kitchen door, which was firmly shut.
She tried to push it open and felt a slight magical resistance. She rolled her eyes, and easily broke through it, shoving her way inside. The two adults looked up from where they were sitting at the table, and her father hastily wiped at his eyes "Little wolf! Ah- what are you two doing up this time of night?" He asked tremulously, and then *oofed* as she scrambled up onto his lap to hug him tightly. Her brother came around from the other side and got in there as well, and their father huffed out a gruff laugh "What am I going to do with you two. What am I going to do without you" he said, and his face fell.
"We don't have to go" she found herself saying before she had even thought it through. Her father and brother looked at her mouths agape, and she continued in a rush "We could learn everything we need to know from Geetha and Remus and you and Óffy. Professor McGonagall was nice but… Fuck Dumbledore!" She exclaimed to her brother's delight "Yeah fuck Dumbledore!" he agreed through his giggles without a second's hesitation.
"I should tan your hides for speaking like that" their father laughed "My mother certainly would have" he said with a shake of his head "thank you my girl but I think it's a little late for that. Everyone's expecting you at the school, you're on the teachers' lists, and I'm sure there's already a little bed and desk and wardrobe for you and everything. You need to go and spread your wings, and you have to leave my nest to do that. I'm going to miss you so much, but it's going to make the times I get to see you even sweeter. You'll come back for the full moon every month, and I'll see you at winter for your holiday, then again at Easter" he said gently, his voice soft and low, and his face still damp and blotchy.
"And you'll write your father at least one letter every week to let him know what you're learning and how you're feeling" his beta sternly added, and the two of them nodded from where they were burrowed into their father still.
"You know I love you, right dad?" Harry spoke up a bit timidly "I won't let anyone take me away from you. I'll always be your son, even though I have another set of parents that gave birth to me" and to his dismay their father started crying again in earnest this time. Next to him Hermione nodded emphatically "No one's gonna steal Harry away from our family, and no one's gonna stop us from coming back home to you!" She promised, and her magic tingled in her chest with the weight of a vow.