Chapter 6
A week passed by in a flash, Hermione furiously summoning books and sending owls back and forth with researchers. She made notes, she read and she basked in the feeling of a breakthrough. She hadn’t felt like this in years, not since she had been able to splice and replicate lost memories from third party information. The only drawback was the difficulties that she had in trying to find a master Legilimens, but realistically trials would be months, if not years, away so it was not in the forefront of her mind.
Hermione found herself in the library most days, it being mercifully quiet over the summer, with Malfoy sat diagonally from her. He was just as engaged in her research as she was, helping her leaf through endless books and chasing up leads she suspected may come to something. Something fundamentally changed the night she opened up to Malfoy about her difficulties with her research, and without even asking he had put in effort to support her with it. He must have really meant it when he said that he believed the research was important.
Harry Potter rounded the corner into the library, eyes sweeping across the shelves to find sign of his best friend. He heard quills scratching and murmured conversation somewhere towards the back, past the restricted section where Hermione often found her research would take her. Then-
“Perfect! Thank you. Now, if I could find a way to reduce the potency, I could absolutely use it to…"
“Provoke a fugue-like state?”
“Exactly what I was thinking! Could I boil it, do you think?”
“Well, this is certainly cosy.” Harry remarked not unkindly, passing between two shelves of restricted books to find Hermione at her usual research table. Books are stacked up well past his height, and the table is covered in scrawled notes and cross-referencing between books. Both figures were risen from the chairs, elbows on the table as they leaned across to crane their necks to the same book. Draco Malfoy, in all black robes, was pointing to a diagram labelled as Salvia Divinorum. Hermione Granger, in a hoodie and a pair of jeans, had been scribbling onto a piece of parchment titled ‘Potential Ingredients’, before Harry’s voice had interrupted their conversation.
“Harry!” Hermione gasped, clearly shocked. Her cheeks reddened in what seemed to be guilt as she abruptly leaned away from Malfoy and sat back in her chair. Harry pretended not to notice as Malfoy’s face suddenly changed from open to stoic, eyes trained on the witch who had jumped away from him as if burned. “I didn’t know you had returned to the castle. I thought you were staying with Molly?”
“I am. But you were meant to come with me, and we all just wanted to see you. I hate the idea of you just ratting around the castle all summer.” Harry smiled at his friend and leaned in to give her a hug. Hermione shifted in her seat a little awkwardly and shot a look at the blond man sat across the table from her. She clearly did not want to say what they all thought. After a beat, Malfoy filled in the gap with the thing neither of the other two felt brave enough to vocalise.
“I wouldn’t be welcome, Potter. Where she goes, I go, and she feels conflicted about the whole situation.” His bored drawl came back in full force, something Hermione had noticed had been suspiciously absent more recently.
“Don’t speak for her.” Harry shot back, narrowing his eyes at his old rival. “She doesn’t like it.” Malfoy couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the irony, and lounged back in his chair rather aristocratically. He fixed his eyes on a point somewhere out of the window, in the distance.
“Okay, well, anyway.” Hermione interjected, clearing her throat, “As much as I wouldn’t normally admit it, Malfoy has a point. Besides, that isn’t the only reason I’m still here. After everything that happened… wouldn’t it be awkward? Does Molly really want to see me?” Hermione’s eyes became uncharacteristically pleading as she looked up at Harry. Harry’s face softened visibly as he placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder.
“No more than it felt awkward for me at first. But we are your family, and we want to see you. Molly wants to see you. Besides, you can always stay in a tent on their land if you don’t want to sleep in his old room.” Malfoy reacted immediately, fake gagging and interrupting.
“No, no, no. Stop there. That’s disgusting.” Hermione looked over at her guardian with a pointed look. “I’m serious. Gross. Look, I obviously would have to come with you but not in a tent. We can stay locally in the area. I’d have to come each day to take you there, I would insist on increasing their wards myself, but I’ll stay outside their actual house.” Hermione started to turn this idea over in her head. “I wouldn’t want to step foot in the Weasel house anyway.”
“Enough!” Hermione cut across Malfoy’s words sharply, raising one eyebrow at him while she thought things over. “What do you think, Harry? Would that be okay? I really would like to come and see everyone. I haven’t seen Ginny in months.”
Harry tilted his head slightly and made a face.
“I can ask.” He said simply with a shrug and a lopsided grin, placing a light kiss to Hermione’s forehead in goodbye before turning away. “I’ll let you know what they say!” And with that, Hermione’s oldest friend – her first friend – turned the corner and was gone.
Hermione and Malfoy continued their research in silence, no words passing between them other than the occasional ‘take a look at this’ or ‘your turn’. Something about having Harry come in sobered them up, made them too self-aware of the comfort that had started to grow between them. The research progressed much slower with the reduced communication, but it still progressed much more than Hermione had felt it had in the previous months.
Neither are startled to see Harry’s infamous stag patronus trot into the room some hour or so later on, speaking in his voice.
“Molly is happy with it. Her stipulations are to stay clear of the house and not to speak to any of them. She’s happy for wards to be added to, as long as no blood magic or dark arts are used. Yes, I explained that Malfoy is literally not allowed to do any of those things but I promised I’d pass it on. See you soon, ‘mione!” Malfoy rolled his eyes so hard in response to the exasperated tone of the Boy who Lived and Died and Lived Again or whatever he was called now that Hermione wondered if his eyes would get stuck back there.
“I know a million better ways to ward a property than blood magic anyway. Bloody idiot.” Hermione barely stifled her snort at his indignant tone. “Do you want to go now, or wait until the morning? I don’t mind either way, I’ll just need to get our accommodation sorted.”
“No, I want to wrap up here. We can leave tomorrow morning. It gives time for Molly to de-fluster herself anyway.” She reaches for her wand, conjuring her silvery otter to go back to Harry with her confirmation to expect the pair of them tomorrow.
Malfoy’s eyes followed Hermione’s otter closely as it bounded off, and she caught something that looked almost like wistfulness as it vanished in its silver wisp. Hermione pursed her lips in sadness and looked down at the book she had in front of her.
“I couldn’t conjure a patronus for about 3 years after the war. She has only come back to me more recently.” She shared a part of herself that she wouldn’t have dared to even 2 weeks ago. But things felt different between them now. Easier. Hermione did not expect it to be reciprocated, and it was not. Malfoy hummed in acknowledgement and turned back to his designated research.
The day continued on in comfortable silence, culminating in what had almost become routine for the odd pair. They spent their evenings, after Hermione had completed her jog and they had a chance to shower, in front of the fire. Entirely unnecessary in August, of course, but cosy all the same. They each read their own book and sat in quiet reflection, rarely speaking.
Hermione enjoyed the time to reflect on how she felt. Certainly, having someone there to research with her had been incredibly useful, but she couldn’t fool herself into thinking that was all. Having someone alongside her that was as intellectual as she was, someone genuinely curious and driven to solve the problem went beyond simply helpful. It was life changing. She considered that it was a rather dramatic statement to think after a week of researching alongside Malfoy, but all the same she felt it. Things felt so different to her now. Draco Malfoy was, of course, a moron at school. A moron, yes, but stupid? Truly, an idiot? No. He was on her level then and he remained on her level now. His ability to think through things and apply logic to a problem, to make suggestions and push her ideas to become better was unmatched. It was crazy. It was not at all what she expected some 5 months ago when he appeared in McGonagall’s office on his assignment.
At exactly 10pm, Hermione rose from her armchair and took her mug of tea to the sink. She drained it and cleaned it with a tap of her wand, replacing it in the cupboard. As she tidied away her things, Malfoy shifted in his seat and looked up from his book and over to her.
“We’ll head to the apparition point at 9am tomorrow.” Hermione paused her musings and looked over to him, meeting his eye and nodding. “I will apparate us to where we are staying and give you time to settle in. Once you’re ready, we can apparate to their… is it a house?” He pulled a face and Hermione sighed in exasperation, leaning her forearms against the back of her armchair as she waited for him to continue. “Anyway, I assume they have anti-apparition wards in place?” Hermione nodded.
“Yes, I think it’s a one-mile radius around the actual house.”
“Thank Merlin. Those are a bloody hassle to set up.” He sighed before ploughing on. “You will need to apparate us directly there, as close as you can get us. You will enter their wards and wait with me while I add to them. Once I’m happy, we can walk to their… abode.” Hermione fixed him with a look that he took not notice of. “I’m going to take some of these books so I’m not wasting my time just sitting around in the Weasel family’s garden.”
A look of panic flashed across Hermione’s face so quickly she could not stifle it, nor did she remember to scold Malfoy for his poor manners.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, they just – well, they don’t know that I’m researching memory, and I’m not sure if I really want them to.” Malfoy looked at Hermione for a moment, face impassive. He considered her words carefully before responding.
“I’ll glamour the books into something aptly boring. Something by Emilie Graytwig should suffice, I’m sure.” Hermione’s nose wrinkled in response to Malfoy’s attempt at humour, quickly banishing the twisting feeling in her stomach.
“Yes, I’m sure they’ll believe you love to delve into a filthy romance book written for middle-aged witches. Molly may even offer to lend you one of hers!”
“They don’t know me, maybe I’m her number one fan.” Malfoy laughed in response, watching carefully when Hermione rolled her eyes in a way that was almost affectionate. Almost.
“Anyway, that’s me done for today. Goodnight, Malfoy.”
“Goodnight, Granger.” He watched her slip into her bedroom and smiled to himself, hardly realising it as it slipped across his usually stoic face.
At precisely 7am the next morning, Hermione woke up. She spent half an hour journalling and washing her face. She completed her daily yoga. She got dressed and packed a bag with clothes and toiletries to last her about a week. She set her bag by the door and set about making a bit of breakfast.
Sometimes, the cooking mood would just take over her. Hermione liked to indulge it on occasion.
Within minutes, Hermione lost herself in a memory of cooking with her mother.
“Don’t burn the eggs, Hermione, you won’t eat them. You need to move them around a little in the pan.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, my angel.”
“Okay, mummy.”
“Do you want just butter with your toast, or a little bit of jam as well?”
“Chocolate!”
“Oh, you little trouble maker! You’ll have to brush your teeth well if you want chocolate spread.”
“Of course, mummy. Daddy showed me how!”
“What are you making?” Malfoy’s voice snapped Hermione out of her mind, and for a moment Hermione fumbled to remember what she was doing.
“I- um, well- I’m making breakfast. Eggs. Toast. Maybe beans.” She took a steadying breath as she moved the eggs around in the pan. “Would you like any?”
“You know you can just ask the house elves to- never mind.” Malfoy smirked teasingly, raising a hand in surrender at the withering star Hermione threw across the room at him. “I would like some toast and some eggs, actually. Coffee?”
“Milk and sugar.”
A few minutes passed and they sat down at the small dining table. For just a moment, Hermione’s world felt slightly off kilter and she saw this situation from outside of her body. What the hell was she doing? This man… he bullied her. He was at the Battle of Hogwarts. He committed war atrocities. He killed people. The Wizengamot stated as much. But she allowed him to make her coffee and she plated him up toast and eggs! What is wrong with her?
But didn’t she defend him in court? Did she not stand in front of the Wizengamot and demand they saw him for what he was – a child, forced into a world he didn’t understand? A boy, forced to bear the mark of a terrorist without any choice otherwise? Did he not make effort where he could? He didn’t kill Dumbledore. He refused to identify them, despite knowing Bellatrix was an incredible Legilimens that would be able to tell if he were lying.
But wasn’t he a bigot? Did he not make her life hell, introducing her to a term she didn’t even know could cut her so deeply?
Is he? If he were still the 11 year-old bigot she met 13 years ago, would he be sat across from her at breakfast, leafing through the Daily Prophet without so much as a lip curl?
“Right, we’re nearly at half past eight now.” Malfoy suddenly cleared this throat, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts and stopping them in their tracks. “Are you packed? I’ll be ready to leave in 15 minutes once I’ve gotten myself ready.” Hermione nodded absent-mindedly, indicating she was packed and ready to leave. Malfoy recognised the vacant expression on Hermione’s face and felt it best not to interrupt whatever her brain was doing any further. He quietly picked up their empty plates, cleaned them with a muttered charm and replaced them in the cupboards. He left Hermione to cradle her hot coffee and went to get himself ready for a week away in Devon. He shuddered internally at the very thought.
15 minutes later, Hermione was fully engaged with the world around her, cleaning and putting away the coffee mugs as Malfoy added some different wards to protect her quarters while they were absent. She picked up her bag from its place by the door, indicating she was ready to leave.
“Is that all you’re taking? I thought we were going for a week. There’s no way you only need a small handbag.” Malfoy gestured to the small bag wrapped around Hermione’s wrist, not even big enough to fit a spare pair of robes in. His face was incredulous as Hermione started laughing not cruelly.
“I’m a Charms Mistress! I know how to cast an undetectable extension charm so excellent it would give you more space than a house!” Malfoy cocked his head slightly and considered this but evidently accepted it without a fuss. They left for the apparition point at Hogwarts station, the sound of Hermione’s light chuckle locked behind them as they walked down the corridor.
“What is this?”
“It’s where we are staying.”
“It’s a museum.”
“It’s a manor.”
“What?”
“It’s a manor. It belonged to my mother and now it belongs to me. It’s unoccupied and it is where we are staying.” Malfoy huffed, irritated. “Did you really think I was going to stay in a tent in a field? I’m a Malfoy for Merlin’s sake!”
“It’s huge.” Hermione scoffed. It was big enough to have separate wings. It was insane. She took a step forward, but paused hesitantly when she felt the ripple of wards just millimetres from her nose. “Am I allowed in?” Malfoy’s eyes darted away from Hermione, pink kissing his cheeks in shame.
“Yes. It’s safe for you.” Hermione said nothing further as she followed Malfoy through the wards and through the front door. She barely had time to take in the grand foyer she now stood in before a tiny pop cracked through the silence and a tiny house elf stood before them.
“Master Draco! Master Draco is here! Oh, Tilly is so please, Master Draco. Tilly thought it was a mistake when she heard Master Draco would be coming but here you are! So tall! So handsome!” The small house elf fluttered, wringing her pristine pinafore dress between her thin hands. Hermione was taken aback, to say the least.
“Good morning, Tilly. You didn’t have to take the trouble of greeting us, I am more than happy to get us settled. I don’t want to be in your way. We’ll be staying here for perhaps a week.”
“Master Draco could never both Tilly! Oh no, Tilly has been waiting. Tilly and Puddy have been waiting most anxiously. Tilly has readied the East Wing for Master Draco and his guest. Puddy has been busy in the kitchen – yes, very busy indeed. Puddy has all of Master Draco’s favourite foods, although Tilly is very sorry to say that Tilly does not know Master Draco’s guest’s favourite.” Tilly’s wide eyes then turned to Hermione, teary and glassy. She felt completely frozen, transfixed by the elf’s eager expression.
“O-oh.” Hermione stuttered, grasping for a response. “You don’t need to go to any trouble, I am quite sure that I will be eating with the Weasleys on most days.” Tilly’s ears twitched down in disappointment and her expression grew forlorn.
“Master Draco’s guest does not want Puddy’s cooking. This is okay, Puddy will understand. Master Draco’s guest-”
“Hermione, please.” The young witch interrupted, smiling warmly at the house elf.
“Miss Hermione…” Tilly breathed, hardly moving. “Not Miss Hermione Granger?” Her impossibly wide eyes widened impossibly further as she started to tremble. “Not Miss Hermione Granger who is friends with the Great Mr Harry Potter?” Malfoy didn’t bother to stifle his groan.
“And here we go…” He muttered.
“Tilly was a good friend of Dobby, a very good friend indeed.” The small elf all but wailed, now crying openly. “Mr Harry Potter was a great friend to Dobby. So was Miss Hermione Granger, Tilly hears! Oh, yes!” Hermione shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to proceed.
“I knew Dobby. He was a great elf. A great friend.” Hermione felt her voice catch under the sudden wave of emotion she felt for the elf that saved her life at Malfoy Manor.
“Oh, yes! Dobby was a great elf! The greatest of friends! Tilly and Dobby worked at Malfoy Manor together, when Master Draco was only little.” It was then Malfoy’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “Miss Hermione Granger must allow Tilly to care for her, oh yes! Tilly knows Miss Hermione Granger is a great witch and it would be Tilly’s honour!” Malfoy coughed back a laugh, not trying too hard to be subtle.
“Thank you, Tilly. Would you be so kind as to show me where I will be staying? I would love to stow some of my things before Malfoy and I go out.” Tilly literally bounced up and grabbed Hermione’s hand in her own, tugging her excitedly down the corridor to the right.
“Yes, yes! This way, Miss Hermione Granger! You will be in the East Wing. Tilly readied it herself! Tilly does hope you will like it, but Tilly will make sure Miss Hermione Granger has everything she needs, oh yes, it’s been so long since Tilly and Puddy have had guests…” And on it goes. Tilly continued to fuss over Hermione for nearly an hour, clearly beside herself with the excitement of having guests. She gave Hermione a full tour of the manor – named Devon Manor – and insisted on Hermione trying 5 samples of Puddy’s pastries to pick her favourites to be served with breakfast.
Hermione noted Tilly’s pristine clothes, but did not question it to the elf. She did she not want to cause offence to the kind elf – she had learned that lesson during her SPEW days.
Hermione was aware that Malfoy had to part with 85% of the Malfoy estate after the war. However, 15% of a billion is 150 million and she now had firm reason to suspect the Malfoy fortune had been considerably more than that. He wasn’t exactly as hard-off as she had assumed he would have had to be to get a job.
Time crept up to half past 10 when Hermione met Malfoy in the foyer. He held a medium parcel in his hands, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Very traditional. Hermione suspected it contained some glamoured books to keep himself occupied with and a few of Puddy’s snacks.
Tilly waved the pair off with promises of a grand dinner. Hermione thanks her profusely before gripping Malfoy’s free wrist, turning on the spot and depositing them right outside of the Weasley’s anti-apparition zone.
Malfoy immediately used Hermione’s grip on his wrist to deposit her inside of the basic wards, placed his parcel on the ground before pulling out his wand with fluid ease and starting cast wards wordlessly.
“So… a manor with two house elves.” Hermione probed gently. “I didn’t know the Malfoy estate still held such luxuries.” Malfoy bared his teeth in a poor imitation of frustration that didn’t reach his eyes. She knew she was pushing things a little, bit she felt like she could do that a little now. Not too much.
“I’m surprised you didn’t SPEW everywhere, you bint.” He snarled without any real bite, going through the motions of rivalry without any of the anger. Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes.
“Tilly is clearly free. I assume she is paid.”
“Of course. And very well.”
“She seemed happy to see you.”
“I don’t visit often. Her and Puddy miss having guests around. They used to host far more often when my parents manage the estate.” Malfoy had hardly mentioned his family in all their months on the assignment, so Hermione did not ask any follow up questions. As time passed, Malfoy began to cast wards that required him to speak aloud. Hermione grabbed the opportunity to ensconce herself in thought, summoning her research pad and starting to calculate the amounts of what she might need for her first trial batch of her theorised memory potion. She had communicated extensively over the last week with a few potion masters and she did have her own abilities to go off of. However, it would absolutely be a case of trial and error when it came down to it.
- Jobberknoll feather – a bird well known for its excellent memory. 3 feathers, crushed for potency – pluck on a full moon?
- Lethe river water – a few drops to produce mild amnesia to induce state for memory recovery
- Common sage – staple ingredient in memory potions – crush 2 sprigs and mix with lethe river water to form paste?
- Fluxweed – healing properties. 3 plants, boiled
- Chinese fireball dragon claw – 1. How to obtain? Strong memory enhancing properties
- Salvia divinorum – 1 leaf – how to reduce potency? Boil in salt water? Shred?
“Right, I’m satisfied for now.” Malfoy announced without warning, drawing Hermione out of her head and into the real world again. She stowed her research and reached out curiously against the wards with her hand. They hummed imperceptibly with strange magic she wasn’t familiar with. In another world, Malfoy would be an excellent guest to her charms class.
If only the student body weren’t so terrified of him. With fair reason, of course.
They walked in the direction of the Weasley house, Hermione leading slightly. Malfoy walked half a pace behind, a habit he had shaken in the Hogwarts halls after the students left.
It didn’t take long for the Weasley house to grow larger on the horizon in all its haphazard glory. A smile stretched across Hermione’s face as she sped up. She saw Harry’s mop of unruly hair emerge from the front door, followed by Ginny’s sleek, fiery mane. Then all three were running, and Hermione was 11 years old again, sprinting down platform 9 ¾ to the door of the train while her parents laugh and tell her to slow down, that the train doesn’t leave for 22 minutes and-
Hermione launched herself into the arms of her two closest friends, Malfoy trailing behind. They gathered her up and held her tight, all gushing their ‘hello’s and ‘we missed you’s at once. There were no tears, just laughs and love. All at once, they drew back and took in each other’s faces.
“You look happy.” Ginny regarded with a warmth in her tone that Hermione had sorely missed. “You look rested.” Hermione felt Ginny’s discerning eyes drill right to the core of her heart, and she could only laugh it off.
“Well, it is the summer break. No teaching load!” Ginny outwardly accepted Hermione’s response, but her eyes communicated something to Hermione that she didn’t quite catch.
“And you brought the ferret with you.” Harry huffed, no real malice in his tone. He had slowly come to accept over the last few months that the addition of the Malfoy scion was inevitable, if not welcome. He had suffered through enough lunches and DA meetings with Malfoy’s presence to come to terms with that fact.
Malfoy said nothing in response. His impassive mask, the one Hermione had hardly seen since the student body left for the summer, had already snapped into place. Gone was the man that laughed with her about dirty romance novels the previous night.
Then, Hermione watched Malfoy’s eyes slip past the trio of friends, locking onto a man slowly shuffling across the unruly lawn. Hermione heard a sound of pain slip from Ginny’s lips, no trace of the humour present just moments before.
“Oh, Dad, go back inside, please.” Her voice was weak, and the man who must have been Arthur Weasley stumbled a little. Malfoy took a moment to observe the Weasley father’s appearance. He was dressed in pyjamas – not dirty, but clearly dishevelled and disorientated. His eyes, that Malfoy had always remembered as mischievous and fierce were dazed and unfocussed. Ginny caught her father in her arms and tried to talk to him.
“Get off my land, Lucius!” Arthur suddenly shouted, venom and fury evident in his tone. He lunged in the direction of Draco Malfoy, swinging his arms wildly. Malfoy did not even reach for his wand, just stepped to the side out of Arthur’s range, looking on in abject horror as Arthur continued. “You get out of here! Leave me and my family alone! Get away from my wife! You’re scum! You’re scum! I’ll kill you! Come back here and I’ll kill you, Lucius, I’ll do it!”
Hermione sombrely took out her wand and murmured a calming charm, circling her wand over Arthur’s balding ginger head. His expression quickly melted into a pleasant, if vacant smile.
“Let’s get you inside, Arthur.” She looped an arm around his waist and turned him back towards the house. Harry followed, launching effortlessly into a story about two muggles he had met on his way in that morning who were having car troubles. The story was clearly fake – Harry had been there more than a week. But Arthur was instantly enraptured and started asking enthusiastic questions about their ‘sham belt’ and their ‘churbos’.
Ginny and Malfoy were left alone, the former with teary eyes and the latter with a slack jaw.
Malfoy didn’t know what to say.
“I didn’t-”
“Don’t.” Ginny cut him off immediately, voice thick with anger. “He’s been like this ever since he crossed paths with your father at the Battle of Hogwarts. He never recovered from what Lucius did.” She stalked off without another word, leaving Malfoy to stare after her, stomach twisting with pain and guilt for transgressions that were not his own.