Chapter 8: Draco

Bitter Roots

"The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet." —Aristotle

Earlier that Day—
Monday, April 2, 2007
Malfoy Manor

When Draco awoke, he was already in a bad mood. The dark feelings from the disastrous dinner with his father still clouded his mind. He took a long shower, and while letting the hot water run along the planes of his back, Draco closed his eyes and organized his thoughts the way that Severus taught him.

Considering all the time he spent there, it was no shock that Draco's interior universe resembled the Room of Hidden Things. It brimmed with trunks, boxes, a familiar cabinet, and all manner of containers for his thoughts and memories.

Lucius Malfoy's mental box was a vault of black iron, and the door sometimes rattled with the volume of its contents. Draco carefully collected all of his negative feelings and shoved them inside. All the haunting sensations—the clack of his father's cane, the draft flowing through the empty corridor, gray silk on dark marble.

Draco pushed the box with great difficulty to the very rear of the room.

When he exited his physical bedroom, he felt blank, which was better than irrationally angry. In his blankness, he could be productive and accomplish things.

First he ate breakfast in his sitting room with the express purpose of avoiding his father. Let him enjoy the seat at the head of the table in the dining room and live out his sick fantasies alone.

Muffy seemed to sense Draco's agitation and sat on the sofa as he ate, nibbling on a branch of currents and chittering about the annual polishing of Narcissa's ceramic menagerie. He didn't say a word but took comfort in the distraction.

He then addressed his cauldrons of pepper-up, which finished simmering at precisely ten o'clock. He added the crushed pepper seeds and incanted over each batch, which completed the brew. Draco felt the glow of triumph bloom in his chest as the characteristic tufts of hot steam began to spur from the surface of each liquid. A perfect potion.

He carefully decanted each cauldron and put away the 150 resulting vials in his cabinet, marked for shipment next week. As he placed each vial on the shelf, he labeled them with a scrap of self-sticking parchment bearing the potion's name in his delicate script.

That done, Draco cleaned his lab and plotted for the more exciting part of his day: cornering a snake.

When Theo and Draco granted each other apparating access to their respective estates years ago, it seemed like a good idea.

"If I am dead or dying in the bath, I would like for you to be able to come directly to my side and thus would not need to wait for Bob, who has approximately no enthusiasm for anything, including even the abstract concept of saving my life."

They were drunk, of course, as was their preferred state of mind for making any major life decisions.

"Theodore, listen carefully. I shall never—never apparate into your bathroom whether you are dying or not," Draco replied. "You are better off relying on Bob."

"Easy for you to say," Theo said, sloshing his glass. "Muffy actually likes you. If I died in the bath, Bob would clean it up and go about his day."

Draco thought that was probably right but didn't say so. "Why are you so bloody morbid tonight?" he asked.

Theo swallowed and fingered the rim of his glass. "Just contemplating solitude."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. With Nott Senior serving a life sentence in Azkaban, Theo was practically an orphan, his mother having died when he was a baby. Draco had recently seen his parents off to France for the first time, and he was adjusting to having the entire manor to himself. Draco suddenly felt a tinge of something around the area of his heart.

"Yes, alright, we can exchange access," Draco relented with a gruff nod.

"You to mine…and me to yours?" Theo broke out into a sly grin that Draco did not like at all.

Three days later, his misgivings proved right.

"Rise and shine, my delectable dragon! The sun hath arisen and awaits the chance to shine upon your luminescent locks." Theo was in his bedroom wearing a fur-trimmed dressing gown and what appeared to be purple pygmy puff-shaped slippers, sipping coffee, and carrying a copy of the morning Prophet under his arm.

"Theo, it is six in the morning, and I am NOT DEAD OR DYING," Draco cried from his bed with bloodshot eyes. "GET OUT!"

And such was how Theodore Nott's apparating access to Malfoy Manor was revoked. However, Theo did not evict Draco from the Nott estates in retaliation. Draco had never taken advantage of his ability to get in and around his friend's home unencumbered for numerous reasons, not the least of which was that Draco just did not care to know what he was up to at all hours.

But having recently accompanied Theo to a Ministry interrogation and seen his friend slip into the back room of a shady pub under questionable circumstances, Draco decided that it was about time he used this access for his own benefit.

Draco apparated into the foyer—he had not been kidding about not wanting to see Theo's bathroom, ever—and found it dark, quiet, and empty. He walked through the halls in search of any sign of activity.

While Malfoy Manor was somewhat neoclassical in its appearance, with polished marble flooring and stray columns throughout, Nott Manor was positively medieval. The floors were slate, and the walls were rough-hewn stone. The clouded iron-paned windows did not let much light in, though every now and then, a stained glass panel would cast a rose-tinted glow inside. However, the most eerie aspect of the building was that every room was completely empty.

There were no rugs or furniture—not so much a picture on the wall. Had Draco not known that Theo lived there, he might have considered the place abandoned. He walked deeper into the building, passing the Floo chamber, the stairs to the upper floors, the empty grand ballroom with its four-tiered iron chandelier, and the closed door to what had once been Nott Senior's study.

Finally, Draco reached his presumed destination—the staircase to the rear cellar where Theo conducted his magical experiments. Draco went to the heavy wooden door and could sense the tingling of a privacy barrier. Theo was always exceptional at keeping people out, a talent that had started with his efforts to keep his angry father out of his bedroom from the day he had procured a wand.

Draco decided to indulge his flair for the dramatic. He conjured a comfortable armchair and ottoman and levitated them against the wall on the hinged side of the door so that when Theo emerged from the basement, he would be obstructed from his friend's view.

Draco suddenly heard a pop to his left as he settled down in his chair. It was Bob who looked at him with clouded, morose eyes.

"Would Lord Malfoy enjoy some tea and biscuits for his stakeout?" Bob monotoned.

Draco chuckled. "Just tea, please, thank you." Bob was a shit cook—and a shittier bodyguard, it seemed.

After Bob popped away, Draco pulled a book from the inside pocket of his robes. It was a new translation of a Chinese book on Arithmancy applied to Transfiguration. He hoped to find something in the theory to help him solve the issues with his topical anti-glamour potion. Cracking open the spine, he settled down and began to read.

Draco's tea was entirely gone when the wooden door creaked open. The door blocked him from Theo's view just as he had planned. When his friend shut the door, Draco slammed his book closed with a loud thud and announced himself.

"Hello, Theodore."

"AH!" Theodore jumped and whipped around, gaping at Draco. He clutched at his chest dramatically. "What the FUCK?"

"What the fuck indeed," Draco drawled in what he knew to be a good imitation of his father. "You've been avoiding me, Theodore, and you owe me an explanation for your wayward behaviors."

Theo audibly heaved breaths and leaned against the closed wooden door. "I think I'm dying."

"Good thing I'm here then, to make sure someone bears witness," Draco retorted, raising one eyebrow.

Theo gave him a sidelong glance, and then something unreadable flitted across his expression. He pushed off from the door and turned to face Draco directly.

"Has Bob been enabling this assault on my nerves?"

"He makes a good cup of tea, that elf," Draco replied, slurping an errant drop from the bottom of his teacup in a way that would have infuriated his mother.

"How about another?" Theo proposed, gesturing behind him down the hall toward his kitchen.

"How about first you tell me what's going on down there," Draco said, flicking his eyes toward the closed door, "and whether it has anything to do with unstable black-market enchanted stones you've been accused of peddling?" He pierced his friend with a stony expression.

Theo sighed, "I wasn't lying. I didn't make Potter's bloody problem stone."

"But you are doing something suspicious," Draco countered with a glare. "And you know something. You dragged me into this, Theo, and you better bloody well tell me what's going on."

"Ugh, fine," Theo groaned and opened the wooden door. "Come on, then."

Draco stood up and vanished his conjured chair, leaving his teacup on the serving cart that Bob had brought with him. Tucking his book under his arm, he maneuvered around the door and followed Theo down the staircase it concealed.

Theo paused a few steps down, and Draco slid against the stone wall to fit around him.

"One moment," Theo said. Then he closed the door, and Draco noticed a series of metal plates on its back with Elder Futhark runes carved into their surfaces. In a low tone, Theo recited a long incantation that Draco had never heard before, and the runes glowed white for a moment before dimming to black again.

"Are you trapping me?" Draco said dryly.

"It's just for protection. If we die in a horrible explosion, we don't want the whole building to go down." Theo smirked, and Draco couldn't tell whether that was an actual possibility. Before he could ask, Theo slipped past him and continued down the dimly lit staircase.

Draco followed, and when he reached the bottom, he stood frozen in astonishment. He had been in Theo's workshop before, but there had clearly been some changes since his last visit. The space was more than twice as ample as Draco's potions lab. On one side, there were four long wooden tables covered in books, parchment, and various types of metal and wood objects, and what Draco guessed were some crystals and other precious stones. The furthest table held a series of silver and bronze bracelets and pendants. On the other side of the room, the walls were covered in panels of wood and stone embedded with bronze, copper, silver, and iron—all with similar markings to the door they had just entered through.

"You fucker," Draco uttered.

"What?" Theo asked, offended, leaning his hands back on the table closest to the door as he faced his friend.

Draco walked over to one of the panels, a basalt slab embedded with thin sheets of bronze. The metal was engraved with very familiar markings.

"These are Marcomannic runes!"

"So?" Theo replied testily.

"So?" Draco gaped. "These are the same runes on that stone in the picture Potter and Smith showed us."

"I don't have a monopoly on an alphabet, Draco." Theo pushed off from the table and walked over to the slab. "You were right that day, by the way. Marcomannic runes on naturally conductive materials are completely unstable with enchantments." He touched a finger to the metal coating, "This is bronze, a mixed metal alloy. Much more effective."

"Effective at what? What does this do?" Draco asked.

"At the moment? Nothing. But it's meant eventually to serve as a magical barrier—to absorb and eradicate any magic that hits it directly." Theo patted the slab twice and turned to face Draco once more.

Draco crossed his arms. "Right. And you expect me to believe, seeing all of this, that you have nothing to do with those stones."

"I'm not the only wizard that works with runes," Theo said. "I started with these experiments while I was in Greece last summer—they helped me get my mastery."

"You have a rune mastery?" Draco threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Oh," Theo said sheepishly, "Did I forget to mention that? Nothing on the Ministry books, of course, but I met this great sorcerer when I first arrived in Athens, and he invited me to his villa on Crete. Anyway, after I helped him work through a tricky translation and created this enchanted watch—so simple, I got this cute certificate."

Theo pointed to the opposite wall by the staircase, where a small framed parchment hung on a rusty nail. Draco saw it read: The Workshop of Polydoros Kalokardias, M.A.R., confers upon Theodore Archimedes Nott, Jr., this Certificate of Mastery in Ancient Runes. Underneath, lines of Greek text that Draco could not understand wrapped around the edge of the paper.

Draco whipped around, "Cute?"

"I thought so," Theo sniffed.

"I thought you had a Mastery in Charms?" Draco's tone was incredulous. "And Transfiguration! You got another one?"

"Charms was right after Hogwarts, and Transfiguration immediately after that," Theo reminded him. "Ages ago. There's nothing preventing witches and wizards from doing multiple Masteries. Honestly, the networking is more beneficial than the research."

Draco tasted something bitter in his mouth. Theo had been quiet and reserved during school, mostly flying under the radar of their professors and the broader student body. But he could worm his way into anything when he turned on his natural charm. The absence of Nott Senior had afforded Theo the type of freedom that Draco wished he felt, despite being just as unrestricted, in theory. He thought of the pile of rejections from Potions Masters still housed in the bottom drawer of his desk. He wondered whether—if Draco had Theo's unwavering persistence and ability to adopt an affable nature—Draco could have convinced one of them to accept him.

His friend spoke again. "But that's not the point. The point," Theo gestured back at the slab of rock, "is that I was not the only person at the ancient runes workshop. All manners of shady witches and wizards went there specifically to work through their own rune experiments, including sones and the like. And," he lifted a finger at Draco for emphasis, "as I told you, I haven't sold anything anywhere. Everything I've worked on is in this room."

Draco looked at Theo for a long moment and then at the large room again. "I believe you," he eventually said. "But then, why were you sneaking into a back room at the White Wyvern yesterday?"

"I haven't been to the Wyvern since the giggle water incident," Theo said, confused.

"I saw you, Theo."

"It wasn't me," Theo asserted. "I was in Surrey yesterday working on that project I told you about."

Draco was entirely perplexed. He was certain Theo had ducked behind the counter, but he had also been drunk and distracted by that ex-Death Eater. He remembered the incident and how the slicked-back part of the man's hair had been precisely like Theo's. But today, Theo was wearing his hair loose around his earlobes with a too-perfect-to-be-accidental curl hanging over his forehead.

"Do you wear your hair like that often?" Draco asked.

"Er…yes?" Theo replied, brows furrowed in bewilderment. "Sometimes. What's with you?"

Draco shrugged and shook his head. He knew Theo was a good liar and a great occlumens to support that. Still, he couldn't see any reason to lie at this moment. "And I suppose your project is still top secret, is it?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Theo pouted his bottom lip. "But if you demand answers, I simply won't be able to resist those grey eyes."

Draco glared. "Fine. Have your secrets. I could not care less."

"You snuck into my house and ambushed my workshop because you don't care about me at all—I see," Theo smirked.

Draco simply scowled. After a moment, though, as he looked around the workshop, Draco marveled at the sheer amount of things. "What else are you working on, then?"

Theo's eyes lit up, and then he ran around the ample space like a whirling dervish, calling Draco to various things to explain his theories. He showed Draco a candelabra that would change the hue of the candle flames when various runes were activated on its base. "Don't use this one, though, because I misspelled something, and now all it does is explode." He showed Draco a crystal pendant that could extend the power of any shield charm in close proximity. He showed Draco a silver ring encrusted with runes that, when tapped in the correct order, could transfigure one's finger into a fork, spoon, or knife. "I thought it could be useful,"

Draco looks at him skeptically. "Human transfiguration is dangerous, Theodore."

"I know!" Theo replied happily.

He showed Draco the whole gamut of his rune-covered magical panels, including all the versions—at least twenty—that ended up not doing much of anything.

"There's this book in the library upstairs. It's not a dark book. Otherwise, the Ministry would have confiscated it years ago. It's an account of a wizard who got involved with the Muggle religious crusades in the twelfth century. During some battles, Muggles and wizards were fighting side by side, and it was difficult to know whether you needed to block spellfire or spears." Theo gestured animatedly, acting like the knight. "Anyway, this Wizard said he could imbue muggle shields with runes that would block wizards' spells and reinforce the shields against physical attacks. They didn't work very well, though. The runes lost their potency after a few blasts. He died after a year, so the book doesn't cover the details. So I thought. … What if those shields were perfect?"

Theo cast out his arms. "It turns out it's harder than I thought. My latest version is very magically absorbent, but it's fragile," he said, tapping the bronze inlaid basalt slab affectionately like a cat. I will fix you," he whispered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Would you like some time alone?"

"Maybe later," Theo replied, turning back to Draco. "How about that tea then?"

The two wizards made their way to Theo's large kitchen, which had red brick walls, a double-wide fireplace, and a wooden table with benches on either side. The large window looked out onto a rolling green hillside. The Nott estate was large—much larger than Draco's—but practically untouched. At the same time, Draco's mother had loved redesigning their carefully cultivated gardens. They sat on either side of the table, Theo facing the window and Draco facing the fireplace.

Theo called for Bob, and the elf brought out a tray of tea and some chocolate sandwich biscuits Draco had never seen before. He ate a bite of one and was pleasantly surprised.

"Did Bob make these?" Draco queried after a sip of his tea.

"Merlin, no," Theo replied. "You know Bob can't cook. I got these from a Muggle shop in the village down past the river."

"You go to Muggle shops?" Draco had never imagined Theo in the Muggle world before.

"Occasionally. Are you shocked?" Theo said with a wry smile. "I'm enjoying the liberties of being without one's prick of a father."

He certainly was. "You're just full of surprises today," Draco said, and then he took another bite.

"I take pride in being a man of mystery," Theo proclaimed, leaning his elbows on the table.

Draco swallowed and pursed his lips, weighing whether Theo would take his next words seriously. "You…would tell me if you were in real trouble, wouldn't you?"

Theo held up his hand and replied, "Wizard's honor. I could never be without my legal representative in a time of need."

Draco rolled his eyes and took another biscuit. "I'm retired."

"We'll see."

They sat in silence for several minutes and finished all of the biscuits. Then, Draco pulled his book out, opening it on the table's surface.

"Is my company boring you?" Theo questioned with a quirk of his brow.

"You rudely interrupted me earlier in the middle of an interesting chapter, so shush." Draco leaned over the pages and resumed from his previous spot.

A crack sounded out, and Bob appeared next to the table.

"Master Theodore has a visitor in the Western field," the elf grumbled in his gravelly voice.

Theo met Draco's eyes in confusion and turned back to Bob. "A visitor in the field? Who is it?"

"Bob will inquire." A pop, and he was gone.

"I had no idea you were so popular," Draco remarked.

"Ha ha," Theo said sarcastically. "Wonder what's going on. The west side of the property borders on that enchanted forest with the unicorns."

Bob reappeared, his wrinkled face still expressionless. "The visitor is Miss Hermione Granger."

Draco felt his eyes bug out of his head. "What did he say?"

"This day keeps getting more and more interesting," Theo said. He looked at Draco with a smirk. "Better not leave a lady standing in the middle of a field—"

Draco gasped. "Hang on—"

"—Please bring Miss Granger here, Bob."

"Yes, Master Theodore." Bob popped away.

"I'm leaving," Draco declared, slamming his book shut and standing up so fast that the bench screeched against the slate floor.

However, another pop sounded out before he could even reach for his wand, and Bob was back in the kitchen, this time with an extremely downtrodden Hermione Granger.

"—say? …" Granger apparently had been speaking mid-transport, and her voice trailed off as she looked at them, mouth open in utter astonishment.

The three of them looked around at one another in complete silence for a moment that stretched for far too long not to be awkward. Granger looked disheveled. Her navy blue robes were torn, various twigs and leaves were stuck throughout her wild hair, dirt was on her face, and she appeared to be favoring one leg over the other.

Theo was the first to speak. "Well…it is an unparalleled delight to see you again, Granger, and in my own home no less." He stood up in his seat slowly and angled his body to face her. "If you would indulge me, may I ask what the bloody Merlin happened to you?"

Granger looked at Theo blankly and blinked. "I—" she faltered, swaying slightly on her feet. "Might I sit down?"

Theo's expression dropped, and he quickly stepped over his bench and clasped Granger's left arm. Draco rounded out from his side of the table and conjured the armchair he had magicked earlier behind Granger, and Theo helped her sit down.

"Sorry, it's been a day," Granger said quietly, closing her eyes momentarily as she sank onto the chair's cushion.

"Let's take a step back," Theo said. "Are you alright?"

"My ankle is broken, I think," Granger told them with a tired sigh as if it were a mildly frustrating logical puzzle, not bodily harm.

"You're also covered in scratches, and I think you collected an entire woodland in your hair," Draco said. She really did look a most pitying sight. It almost made him feel bad for his blunt delivery. Almost.

"Thanks." Granger glared at him. "Why are you here?"

"I was invited, Granger, unlike you," Draco retorted with a sneer.

"I was apparated here against my will."

"From a part of this property to which you were not invited."

"Are you implying that I would enjoy an invitation to any place you happen to be? Because I would not."

"Very clever, Granger. A true demonstration of your wit."

"Alright, then," Theo interjected. "This is my home, and—actually—neither one of you was invited. So let's call it a draw, shall we?" Theo sat down in front of Granger on the kitchen bench.

Draco crossed his arms in a huff but noticed that Granger was doing the same with her own arms, so he quickly straightened them out to his sides and clenched his fists.

"Let's take a look," Theo said, reaching down toward Granger's bandaged leg. Suddenly, Granger's hand whipped out and slapped the top of Theo's hand with a snap. "Ow!" Theo cried.

"I—sorry, reflex." She winced. "I've been manhandled more today than I have been in my entire life. Really, I'm fine, I just need to get to St. Mungo's. Can I use your Floo?"

Draco scoffed. "Good luck Flooing on a broken ankle, Granger. Shall we just smash your leg in now and get it over with?" Really, they called this woman bright?

Granger flushed a delicate shade of pink on her face, and Draco watched the blush flood down her neck, disappearing under the high cut of her tattered robes. When she looked up at Draco, she scowled, and Draco suddenly felt uncomfortable for contributing to her state of distress. This was ridiculous since it was Granger's fault she had apparently lost her ability to think.

"Fine then," Granger snapped. She bit her lip, and something alighted in her eyes. "May I speak to Bob?"

"Bob is here."

All three jumped at the voice of the house elf, who stood on the right side of Granger's armchair, still as a statue.

"Oh, hello—yes—Bob, would you please take me to the apparition point on this property?" As Granger spoke, she had the audacity to try standing up, which looked difficult around the plush chair. Draco wondered why he bothered to conjure his preferred softness of seating.

"Bob will do no such thing," Theo interjected, visibly annoyed. His friend leaned forward on his knees, bringing himself eye-level with his house elf. "Bob, go count the silver or something else you enjoy."

Bob merely nodded and popped away.

"Granger," Theo leveled a steely gaze on the witch before him. Granger had plopped back down futilely when Bob vanished. "I'm not sending an injured woman out on her arse even if she has illegally entered my property. I have manners."

"I didn't illegally enter your property," Granger said, defiantly tilting her chin upward. "I had Ministry business with the Oak Clan of dwarfs in the enchanted forest, and it is only by some sick coincidence that we exited the forest here."

Draco felt a burst of almost irrational annoyance. "Why on Earth would you go into the forest today? Do you realize there's a full moon tonight? You could not have picked a worse—"

"We went at mid-day, Malfoy. I hardly think—"

"—natural magical activity is greatest in the week leading up to the full moon, you silly bint."

Granger scowled as much as her pretty little face could manage. "That's uncalled for—"

"Did the dwarfs attack you?" Draco interrupted again, unable to stop himself. He wondered whether they should take her to the hospital anyway to have her head checked out.

"What? No." Granger looked confused. "They were very…er, nice to me."

"Then why," Draco swallowed the urge to yell, "do you look like you've been dragged through the underbrush?"

A deeper blush. "My colleague Daniel and I were flying brooms, and…" She glared at Draco before continuing, "Something interfered with the enchantments. We fell. He broke his arm. I hurt my ankle." Draco scoffed.

"Colleague? Where is he?" Theo asked. He gave Draco a wary stare, and Draco shuffled backward a bit to put some more distance between him and Granger.

"He took a portkey to St. Mungo's," Granger replied. She avoided their eyes. "We were meant to take it together, but he touched it too soon." She choked back a groan of frustration and added, "And he is my employee, so I should really go and check on him, so please—thank you, I suppose, for saving me the walk, but really, I must be going." She made to get up again.

"Would you just stay still for one moment?" Draco growled in frustration.

"You can't keep me here against my will, Malfoy!" Granger cried.

Draco froze at her words, and one of the chained boxes in his mind began to rattle. Of course, she would want to leave here as quickly as possible. She was in the former home of one of the most sadistic Death Eaters still alive. Did she suspect that Theo was just as bad as his father, or was all her fear and trepidation related to Draco? But her words from the apothecary yesterday rang out in his head again. You weren't a Death Eater…not really. The heat of anger began to bloom from the center of his chest, and he clenched his teeth hard.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Theo cut in before Draco could reply. He stood from the bench and held his arms between the other two. They paused for two breaths, and then Theo faced the seated Granger directly.

"Granger, you're free to leave at any time. I can take you to St. Mungo's myself if you'd like. I'm sure it's hard to spin on one foot." He gave her a subdued smile, and Granger's demeanor calmed. Theo said, "But I am quite talented at healing, and I do have a Mastery in Charms—" Draco scoffed. Theo glared at him but continued uninterrupted. "—I know you appreciate academic accomplishments, unlike some people."

"You have a Mastery in Charms?" Draco almost rolled his eyes at the way Granger's expression lit up. Bloody swot.

"Completed with the great Warlock Antonio Amaro himself," Theo announced.

"The creator of the modified featherlight charm?" Granger asked, amber eyes almost bugging out of her head, and Draco actually did roll his eyes this time.

Theo smirked, but Draco did not meet his eye. "Ah, a connoisseur of magical innovations, how absolutely refreshing. I knew I liked you, Granger, and I must say that your natural complexion is most resplendent on you. However, the sparkle of our previous encounter was certainly a sight to see."

At those words, Granger laughed. She actually laughed. Draco's mouth gaped open momentarily, and he wondered whether he was dreaming. Here he was in Theodore Nott's kitchen with Hermione Granger, who was laughing at something his friend said as if they hadn't been indifferent enemies for their whole lives.

Granger finished her laugh with a soft chuckle and spoke. "I suppose it wouldn't do much harm for you to look at my ankle if you're sure."

"I am," Theo nodded with assurance. After thinking briefly, Theo added, "If I remember correctly, you like books, Granger. Let me go and fetch my healer's almanac. Don't kill each other!"

"That's really not—" Granger began, but Theo did not wait before rushing through the doorway. "…necessary." She finished lamely.

Draco was now alone with Granger, an event he had not foreseen when he woke up that morning or indeed had not foreseen happening ever, despite the times he had encountered her recently. The silence was deafening, and Draco cleared his throat for the sake of hearing anything break through the dead air. He turned his back to Granger and walked around the kitchen table to retake his seat. He stepped over the bench and lowered down so that he faced Granger's armchair directly, his back again to the window.

It was late afternoon, and the north-facing window let a soft light into the room. Draco looked up at Granger and noticed that she avoided looking at him by fingering the green brocade upholstery of the armchair. Her face was still flushed.

Draco considered whether he should have followed Theo to find that stupid book. Then he thought he should try to make conversation since he was sitting mere feet from another person. Even if that person was the too-good bushy-haired Gryffindor swot of his nightmares. Probably better to just sit in silence. Perhaps he could just return to his book, and Granger wouldn't bother—

"Is that yours?"

Of course, she wouldn't be able to keep bloody quiet.

"Pardon?" Draco asked, reluctantly raising his head to meet her eyes. She was now gazing back at him openly.

"That book," she pointed to the tabletop, "is it yours?"

Draco nodded. Was he about to receive a complete summary of the book he had just begun or a broad judgment of the worthiness of his topic of choice?

"I just started it myself, but I found the introduction a bit off-putting. I always considered Arithmancy a stable way to test and apply magical theories, but the way the authors seem to consider it is a bit nebulous—it reminded me of Divination. I just hope the rest of the book is more concrete."

When Granger spoke, something eased in her demeanor, like she had reached land after long days at sea. Her shoulders relaxed, and her hand loosened from tightly gripping the wand in her lap. Draco leaned forward over the table toward her.

"All magic is intuitive. Even logical Arithmantic theorems require intent and desire—something beyond the numbers and strategy of it," Draco said. "It's the same with potions. Standard recipes aren't enough, typically."

"Having the ambition for the number five to be something other than it is seems a bit silly if you ask me," Granger quipped.

"Ambition—interesting word," Draco replied. "Something Gryffindors typically lack."

Granger's eyes narrowed, and Draco delighted in how the dip above her mouth pinched.

"I didn't know house loyalties could apply to experimental Transfiguration," she eventually said.

Draco smirked and leaned back slightly, stroking the book's cover from where it lay flat on the tabletop. "I thought the introduction was a compelling way to present the spirit of their research. I'm most interested in seeing how they approach human Transfiguration, which is notoriously unstable under the best circumstances. Perhaps the order of Arithmancy can provide some much-needed stability."

When he next looked up at her, he faltered. Granger was staring at him with a direct gaze that unsettled him.

"Well," Granger said, "you'll have to let me know what you think of it."

She continued speaking before Draco could fully contemplate the idea that Hermione Granger solicited his opinion on something.

"Listen, Malfoy, I'm sorry about what happened at the apothecary yesterday. I didn't mean to make the situation worse."

Draco scowled. "Westbrook is a spineless fool who does whatever is most convenient for him. If that old hag hadn't been there, he would have sold me his entire inventory if I wanted. It's always a roll of the dice whether or not I can shop there, and he doesn't have an owl order service, so yesterday was just…what it was."

"That seems hypocritical and unfair," Granger replied, furrowing her brows.

"That's business, Granger. Image is everything, and my image is sometimes unwanted."

Granger fidgeted in her seat, seemingly speechless. Had that ever happened before? Draco suddenly felt uncomfortable and pressured to fill the silence again.

He spoke. "I'm used to it, Granger. You didn't make anything worse. But I will never discourage anyone from adopting a bit more self-restraint." He adopted his most characteristic smirk, though inside, he felt highly bewildered that he was talking calmly with Hermione Granger.

She was biting her lip as if wrestling with something. She asked, "Do you brew a lot?"

Draco was gobsmacked for a moment. For some reason, he figured Potter would have told Granger about his secret venture with St. Mungo's. She seemingly didn't know, meaning that Potter had kept his mouth shut even to his closest friend. That annoyed Draco. Stupid bloody noble Harry Potter actually keeping his word. Or maybe Granger did know and was just protecting Potter's moral failings. That would annoy him, too.

He simply said, "Yes."

At that moment, Theo walked in, levitating an open tome that looked to be the size of New Zealand. His friend whistled a light tune under his breath, and when he fully entered the kitchen, he smiled.

"Right where I left you, excellent. Everyone's limbs still attached?"

Draco rolled his eyes, not dignifying the question with an audible answer.

"Granger," Theo continued, unfazed, as he retook his seat facing her on the opposite side of the table. "Here is the almanac"—he set down the weighty book in her lap—"and on that page are the standard methods for healing various ailments of the tibia, fibula, and talus bones. You read up, and I'll remove this bandage, alright?"

Granger nodded, already reading rapidly, and she barely acknowledged when Theo picked up her foot gently and placed it in his lap. With a tap of his wand, the conjured bandages lifted off of Granger's ankle and vanished in the air. Draco slid down on his bench slightly to get a better view of Theo's hands.

Granger's ankle was red and swollen, and Theo's pale fingers touched it lightly. Granger hissed and looked up.

"Simple diagnostic now," Theo said. He waved his wand over her foot, lips pursed in concentration on the nonverbal spell. Moments later, a rainbow of colors appeared over the foot, with blue and green making up the majority and several highlights of red.

"Right, see here? That's a fracture of the tibia," he said, pointing to one spot of red. "And just below there, see how it's all hazy? That's probably a sprain."

"Sounds plausible from what I can tell now that my numbing charm has worn off," Granger said in resignation, leaning against the back of the armchair.

"I'll soothe the sprain first with the ligament compression charm and then heal the fracture. May I?" Theo pulled out his wand and looked across at Granger's face. She looked nervous but nodded.

Theo was very elegant when he cast spells. Draco had noticed this before—such as during their second year when Theo had charmed two dinner rolls to do a waltz down the length of the Slytherin table. As he watched his friend move fluidly through the complicated wand movements, Draco appreciated Theo's true capabilities of magic.

When Theo finished the second spell, Granger took an audible, deep breath and let it out in a melodic sigh.

"Oh, that's—yes, it feels so much better," she said, pointing and flexing her ankle, which was still resting in Theo's lap. Draco made a note to read at home in his manor's healer's almanac. Just in case he needed to heal himself, of course.

"Try putting some weight on it," Theo suggested, sliding to the right so that Granger had room to stand. He plucked the almanac from her lap and heaved it onto the kitchen table.

She slid her wand into an arm holster Draco hadn't noticed before and shifted forward in the chair. When she finally stood and straightened her knees, Granger took a few steps in place and smiled.

"It's perfect. Thank you." She turned to face Theo directly. "Have you done this a lot before, then?"

"Yes," he nodded, rubbing his right knee with his hand. He didn't elaborate.

Granger sat down again. "Oh. Well, thanks. Feels great."

"Great," Theo smiled back at her, then paused before adding, "I wish I could help with your hair, but alas, that is one area of magic I've never needed much help with." He smirked and flicked his perfectly coiffed loose curl to the side of his forehead.

Granger chuckled. "I'm sure it's a hopeless cause anyway." She sat down again and pulled a small beaded bag from where it hung at her hip. Draco watched with interest as she stuck her hand inside, followed by her arm, emerging with a small vial of what Draco recognized as the essence of dittany. She placed it on the table and reinserted her arm into the bag to pull out her second boot, which she put on her foot.

Theo whistled. "Undetectable extension charm?"

"And a modified featherlight," she replied with a quirk of her mouth, tying her laces.

"Antonio would be proud," Theo remarked, leaning his elbows back on the table.

Granger just shook her head lightly and picked up the dittany. She took the dropper, placed some of the clear substance in her hands, then set the bottle back down and rubbed it all over her forearms. The red scratches faded almost instantly. Taking more of the dittany, she rubbed it along her neck and face. When her hands dropped and began closing the bottle, Draco was struck by the smoothness of her skin and equally by the contrast with her positively wild hair, which still had several large twigs sticking out of it sideways. She looked like a nymph.

Draco struggled with whether to suggest his own idea to Granger. Eventually, as she finished stoppering the bottle, he coughed and stood from his position behind the table.

"Your hair," he began uncomfortably. "May I?" He drew his wand from his pocket.

Granger drew back and frowned. "What are you going to do? Is this a prank?"

Draco winced. "No, but I understand if you'd prefer to just leave." He met her eyes and worked hard to keep his expression perfectly blank. She scrutinized him.

Draco looked away, and Theo quirked an eyebrow at him.

Then, Granger stood up and crossed her arms, looking at him up and down. "Fine, go on then."

Simultaneous shock and satisfaction flooded Draco's system, and he decided not to wait for Granger to change her mind. He swept his wand up and cast.

He placed a stasis charm on the strands of her hair and then a variation on a summoning charm to extract the foreign debris. One by one, the twigs, leaves, and clumps of dirt floated out of Granger's long locks and toward Draco. He contained them in the air in front of his chest before setting them down on the table. They formed a small pile that looked much larger than he had expected. Finally, he nonverbally canceled the stasis charm, and the strands of Granger's hair deflated, though they were still horribly tangled.

Theo nodded, "I wouldn't call it good, but it certainly is better."

Granger's hands came up to her head and caressed her hair from root to tip. "I'm…impressed. Thank you."

Draco nodded and vanished the twigs with a quick evanesco.

She bit her lip and picked up the bottle of dittany on the table. As she put it away in her bag, she unexpectedly reached deep again and pulled out something else.

"Malfoy," she began, lifting her eyes to his. "Don't take this the wrong way—or any way, really—but I truly have no use for this."

Granger stepped forward so that her knees met the kitchen table bench and held out a vial in her hand. Confused, he took it from her, and his mouth dropped when he recognized the silvery-white substance.

"You bought this? Yesterday?" Draco asked, truly astounded.

"Yes, and I don't even know why or how to use it, so please just take it," Granger asserted, tying the drawstring of her bag closed in what Draco suspected was a way to avoid looking at him.

"You—"

At that point, Theo interrupted. "Am I missing something?"

Draco glared and then proceeded to ignore him.

"Return it, Granger." He held the vial out.

She looked at his hand and shook her head. "No. I don't plan on returning to Diagon any time soon, and that vial will just sit in my bag until the next time I need to reapply the extension charm."

"You are just—just—take it back. This is expensive."

She rolled her eyes. "I know. Sounds like it's hard to come by."

Draco set the vial down across the table near her. "I am not taking this."

Granger stomped her foot and huffed. "Fine then!" She snatched the vial up and turned to Theo, who was looking between them with wide eyes as if they were a stage show. "Nott, thank you for helping with my ankle. Would you accept this vial of Demiguise solution as a token of my gratitude?"

Theo, always annoyingly quick on the uptake, grinned widely and jumped up from his seat. He literally bowed—Bowed!—and accepted the vial with a sweep of his arms.

"Granger, I would be delighted."

"Brilliant," she said, throwing a self-satisfied grin over her shoulder at Draco, who was scowling while struggling to tamper down a fiery anger in his chest. She continued to Theo, "I really must be going now. May I please use your Floo?"

"Of course. It's been lovely to have you, Granger." Theo gestured to the exit.

"Bye, Malfoy!" Granger called, and before Draco had even realized what was happening, the two had left him alone in the kitchen.

Draco slumped down at the table and rested his head on his forearm.

Granger had bought him—not bought him, just bought. Not for anyone and certainly not for him—a vial of Demiguise solution that had cost at least twenty galleons. Did he owe her something now? The thought of seeing her again made him feel both uneasy and slightly warm around his neck with irritation. He would just owl her the twenty galleons—twenty-five, just to be certain—and go on for another decade without crossing paths with her, Salazar willing.

What was with her job, anyway? Set upon by fairies and then stranded in an enchanted forest with a clan of dwarfs, all in a fortnight. Draco had thought she was in more of an administrative role. Still, thinking about it, there was something poetic about Hermione Granger setting off each day to foolishly confront the magical creatures of the world single-handedly. Bloody blind optimism and a beaded bag against sinister magic, bloodthirsty beasts, claws, fangs—and darkness.

Draco still had not moved when Theo returned several minutes later.

"That was an unprecedented and truly exemplary interaction. I cannot thank you enough for choosing today of all days to ambush me in my own home." Theo plopped across from him, and Draco lifted his head to glower.

"Fuck you," he said and dropped down again.

"Fuck you," Theo retorted. "You could have been more pleasant, Draco, though I admit the sexual tension in this kitchen has never been higher."

"What?" Draco's head whipped up.

Ignoring Draco, Theo said, "Here's your vial of…whatever this is. Looks slimy." Theo held the Demiguise solution up to his eyes and pinched his nose in disgust.

"Give me that." Draco snatched the vial out of his hands.

"What was that about?" Theo asked, pointing to the vial.

"I ran into Granger at the apothecary yesterday—it was nothing," Draco replied, pocketing the vial.

"Sure," Theo responded skeptically. He leaned forward to place his elbows on the table. "As I was saying—sexual tension. Crude, certainly, but with the potential to become of the highest quality."

"Shut up, Theodore."

"I didn't see it at first, but when you offered to fix her hair—her hair, of all things—her eyes never left your face. And, of course, you've been obsessed with Granger for ages. You owe me multiple cheese plates for serving as the spark to the beginning of…well, whatever it is between you."

"Nothing!" Draco cried. "It will be nothing. It's Granger. And I have not been obsessed with her. I hate her. We hate her."

"I don't hate her. I find her life complicated and entertaining," responded Theo. "Do you hate her?"

Draco was momentarily stunned, both by Theo's words and by the fact that Theo so openly revealed his feelings, which a younger version of him would never have considered.

Did he hate Granger? He certainly had hated her at one point in his life. But some of those feelings were distant and hazy now, like the dark memories he kept in his mind. He supposed she was still bossy and annoying. She certainly hated him.

"You don't care she's not pureblood, do you?" Theo asked with a quirk of his brow, though the set of his mouth was firm.

Draco blinked. He and Theo had never really talked about it all, not for years, since they returned to Hogwarts after the Dark Lord fell. At the time, Draco was too repressed to say anything more than "the Dark Lord was insane" and say, "Let's not do it again." But he'd had a lot of time to think since then.

"No. Do you?"

"Of course not," Theo replied. "Happy to make her Supreme Leader of Wiltshire and cede my father's land to her wishes."

Draco almost laughed.

"What's the issue, then?" Theo asked.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Granger thinks we're black market criminals—or had you forgotten that? For another, she was tortured in my own home, and that was after years of calling her names and wishing her dead."

"You've never wished anyone dead, Draco." Theo reached across the table and patted Draco's forearm. "It's why you were a terrible Death Eater."

You weren't a Death Eater … not really.

"That's it. I'm leaving," Draco announced.

He swung his legs over the bench and stood up, rounding the table and heading for the door in one burst of momentum.

"Counter proposal—we grab a bottle of expensive wine and get riotously drunk." Theo's words made Draco pause on the threshold. His friend added, "In complete silence, if you'd prefer."

Draco never could pass up a good wine.

So the two Slytherin friends drank three bottles between them. When the full moon's bright light shone directly through the kitchen window, Draco thought that perhaps the warm feeling around his neck that Granger caused hadn't been irritation after all.

Theo had been asleep on the kitchen table for some time when a furious pecking sounded at the window.

Draco couldn't find any sleep. The moon was too bright, and he longed for the seclusion of his cellar bedroom. However, he hadn't had the energy to leave by the bottom of the third bottle. Draco stumbled up from where he was seated to open the latch at the sound of the owl's clanging rhythm.

The owl swooped inside and dropped a newspaper on the kitchen table. It left as quickly as it arrived, and Draco shut the window.

He shuffled over to the table and unfurled the paper—a special edition of the Daily Prophet, it turned out—from where it lay mere centimeters from Theo's head.

"Whassgoinon?" His friend mumbled vaguely, not moving an inch.

Draco rolled his eyes and scanned the paper.

WEREWOLVES ATTACK MONTAUROUX, FRANCE: FRENCH MINISTRY IN CHAOS AS ROGUE PACK TEARS THROUGH TOWN

"Oh fuck."

Up Next: Hermione and the Ministry of Magic respond to the werewolf attack in France.