The Divorce
It is the autumn after Neville and Hannah’s summer wedding, and the vows of companionship, the brimming love, the comfort, had stirred something in Narcissa. But it wasn't what romantics would guess. It wasn't the aftertaste most people witnessing two lovers come together are left with.
No, the wedding left Narcissa with entirely something else— the nagging urge to not be Malfoy anymore. She wants to go back to being Narcissa Black; at least she was a better person when she was a Black.
It has been on the back of her mind for very long, to be fair. Lucius wasn't actually a present husband for the entirety of their togetherness, and him being in Azkaban now only gave good reason for his absence. And despite everything, despite her claims of having forgiven him, there were still waves of resentment crashing against the walls of her heart — resentment towards her husband for selling their family to the Dark Lord.
But however green the wounds from the past are, it is all in the past effectively. And Narcissa wants to move forward.
The realization dwelled on the shores of her consciousness for long, but it barged into Narcissa's doorstep at Neville’s wedding. When she spent half the evening desperately hoping to stumble into a certain Gryffindor with honey-brown eyes and brunette curls, whom she had the honor to talk to last Christmas and uphold minimal correspondence with, over the months.
But, Hermione Granger did not show up to the wedding. Narcissa didn't dare ask anyone why, even though she was practically family with Harry Potter. She was aware of the ridiculousness of her own desire, and its potential danger.
And although she had the realism in her to know nothing could ever come out of it, and desperately wanted to move on from whatever silly crush she was harboring towards the Golden Girl, she also realized that her heart was sick of being so lonely for her desire to threaten her so.
So the divorce was certainly the logical next step. For her to seek out potential romantic possibilities with… appropriate paramours.
And by September, having discussed it with Lucius, she was filing for divorce at the Ministry. The head of the Department of Civil Magic Law owls her after almost two weeks of silence. The letter informs her that a ministry official has been assigned to her case and would pay a house visit in the evening for filling out further documentation.
How presumptuous of them to set up an impromptu meeting and assume she wouldn't be occupied that particular evening. No, she didn't have any plans that evening, but it was so rude of the Ministry to assume so.
She had been ready, nonetheless, although begrudgingly. But all her irritation washes off her like soap-water in the evening, when she opens the door to find honey-brown eyes from behind brunette curls, looking back at her.
“Ms. Granger? You…”
If Hermione had not already guessed it would be a shock to have her at her door, Narcissa's face had made it evidently clear now.
“Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm here on behalf of the Department of Civil Magic Law. I've been assigned your… case.”
Narcissa furrows her brow as her mouth, against her will, forms an ‘O’. There was a tightening in her chest that could be attributed to the fact that the young woman in front of her was so formal, almost stern, with no hint of warmth to her voice that had been there in their previous interactions.
“Oh, of course.” Narcissa collects herself, and places a hand on the doorknob to invite Hermione in. “Would you… would you like to—”
And then, the very blood pumping through her veins freezes. She almost grows cold with the realization. She was just about to invite Hermione into the very place that had scarred the young witch for life.
What in Salazar’s wickedness was the Ministry thinking, sending her to the Malfoy Manor?!
Narcissa takes a sharp breath before composing herself. The younger witch in front of her is almost impossible to read. The same indifference rests on her eyes that did at Narcissa's trial. But her frame is unusually stiff.
“Would you like to take this outside?” Narcissa asks tentatively.
Hermione's eyes widen and blink, considering the older witch for a moment. Then her shoulders visibly relax, and she lets out a shaky breath. She looks like a soldier who didn't know what to do with their battlegear.
“Oh, of… course,” Hermione nods. “Where to?”
Narcissa steps out of her doorstep then. Maybe it is because she is in a rush to apparate Hermione out of this wretched place, because despite her usual nerves concerning the younger witch, she boldly offers Hermione a hand.
“Well, if you'd let me, I know just the place.”
It only surprises her that without wasting a second, Hermione takes her hand and lets her.
Narcissa takes the younger witch to a cafe that she has herself frequents whenever she's sick of the manor but also needs to be alone.
It is only now that, as Hermione looks around, Narcissa takes her in. She is wearing her hair in a tight bun that betrays some stubborn curls. The white satin shirt and the long brown pants do let people know she means business. Her overcoat rests on the chair next to her, and Narcissa observes her wandering eyes and she takes in the cafe.
“But this is… muggle London.” Hermione lets out
“I thought it to be a far better option than the Leaky Cauldron, considering we would need privacy for our meeting,” Narcissa smiles. “I can't exactly go unnoticed in wizarding London with the Golden Girl on my side.”
At this, Hermione tilts her head and smiles bashfully, and says something along the lines of ‘good thinking’.
“I didn't think you were working at the DCML, Ms. Granger,” Narcissa comments once they've ordered their beverages for the evening.
“Oh, well,” Hermione shrugs. “Apparently I was a nuisance back at the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Kingsley offered me a promotion, but it was honestly an excuse to get me out of there, considering the number of enemies I made.”
“I can barely imagine you making enemies out of people.” The surprise in Narcissa's voice is earnest. She had been under the impression that the Golden Girl is celebrated, worshiped even. Even the Daily Prophet had learnt to speak highly of her.
Hermione lets out a scoff. “Well, they don't exactly like a muggleborn telling them their treatment of house-elves is barbaric. There are a lot of purebloods names in the Ministry to see logic in my reasoning.”
And almost immediately, she meets Narcissa's eyes, who is herself reminded of Dobby. Dobby who had taken a fatal blow at the Malfoy Manor, the very place they had escaped moments ago.
But the utter vehemence and absolute fire in Hermione's honey-brown eyes reminds Narcissa of Regulus, her only sensible cousin, and she finds herself smiling bitterly.
They are interrupted out of the tense moment by the waitress giving them their orders — a cappuccino for Hermione and a hazelnut mix for Narcissa. As soon as she leaves, Narcissa finds that the words slip out of her mouth without asking her.
“I cannot begin to fathom, Ms. Granger, why would the Ministry send you to the Malfoy Manor. It seems cruel, considering… you know.”
She shifts her feet uncomfortably and watches Hermione widen her shoulders and cross her arms to her chest.
“I could very well do my job, Mrs. Malfoy,” she responds defensively, “Regardless of my history.”
Narcissa is quick to clear the air. “No, I didn't mean that. Of course, you're more than capable. It's just…” she sighs with difficulty, and decides to not hide around. “They could've been a bit considerate, that's all. Because, well, Merlin knows sometimes it's difficult even for me to be there without being reminded of who used to walk those halls.”
Hermione's shoulders visibly relax, and her eyes soften. But there's still some bite to her words as she asks, “Is that why you're going for the divorce?”
Narcissa chooses not to be offended by the retort. She indulges the younger witch into a smile, more so because as soon as the question leaves Hermione, she seems to regret it.
“Well, that. And some countless other reasons. I believe I will have to detail out some of them for the document, yes?”
Hermione lets out a shaky sigh, gratitude at Narcissa's patience brimming in her eyes. And she smiles at the older witch a little apologetically. “Well, yes. I suppose we should begin with that.”
Hermione is, as expected, excellent at her work. And at making Narcissa feel at ease around her, regardless of how complicated the matters they were discussing were. Divorce, no matter how much you're over your married life, is a delicate subject nonetheless. And Hermione manages gracefully, considering it's her first case. Or maybe, it helps that the two witches have a knack for falling at comfort around each other.
And over the two months, they spend a day almost every week at the cafe, discussing the divorce of course. So much so that the waitress smiles at them in recognition when they come, and has their usual orders ready. And it is easy, it is everything that Narcissa had expected it not to be.
Maybe it is her kindness that startles Narcissa. Startles, not surprises. Because Hermione Granger is a kind person. She is at least, always kind enough to always double-check with Narcissa if she wants something documented when she's speaking, acknowledging the fact that they had somewhat of a more personal relationship outside this professional setting. And that Narcissa could confide in her.
Not that Narcissa needs to anymore than she does. There's nothing to it really. She's tired of being in an empty marriage, which is loveless and which also forces her into a name and into a home she cannot really call her own after the war. And when it all gets too intense, the two witches fall into another topic.
Like, Legilimency. Hermione was learning it, wasn't she? And Hermione sheepishly lets her know that she's made progress, and that the strength of Narcissa's mental guard surprises even more now that she fares deeper into the subject. Narcissa, graceful as ever, greets the compliment with a smile and lets Hermione know she was born with it.
But she never lets her mental wall down in front of Hermione again, not even to test the younger witch's progress. She dares not to, in fear of what Hermione would find there. Because believe it or not, ever since they started these ‘professional’ meetings, Hermione Granger had been on Narcissa's mind a lot more than she would've liked. Nothing could be done about it though. Because their friendship was progressing without speedbreaks.
They even get onto joking around with each other, much to her own surprise because Narcissa had never been well-versed with humor. But she makes Hermione smile, and that seems enough.
It is after one of those occasions, and towards the last of their sessions together, that Hermione recovers from a laugh that a witty remark from Narcissa had induced.
“I need to thank you.”
Narcissa looks on to the younger witch in confusion.
“Well,” Hermione begins to explain, “You were right. It was inconsiderate of my boss to send me to Malfoy Manor even after knowing my history at the place. But you know, my fear of incompetence wouldn't let me say no to the job. And… well, it would've been hard if we had met inside your house. I can only say I would've reacted badly, because Godric knows I've not gotten… over it yet.”
Narcissa's heart convulses dangerously at that. She feels like it would jump out of her throat, but she manages a kind smile for Hermione's sake as the younger witch searches her eyes.
Hermione begins again, with a lopsided smile. And Narcissa smiles because she knows the tell-tale signs of an oncoming rambling. “So yeah, um… thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. For bringing me to this beautiful cafe. You made my job easy for me.”
“Ms. Granger, it is you who are helping me out here. Swear to Merlin, you've made it so easy for me too. I can't imagine anyone else at the DCML being able to… put up with me,” she finishes with a smirk.
A chuckle escapes Heemione as her spirits rise at Narcissa's indulgence.
She feigns a solemn expression. “Well, I suppose that's true. You're exceptionally tricky to work with.”
Narcissa lets out a laugh. And then sobers up for a response. “Why, you must be rewarded then, for accomplishing such a grievous task. Let's see, what can I give you… ah, yes. You have the honor to be the first to call me Black, and not Mrs. Malfoy,” she says, and adds with a wink, “now that we're friends.”
Narcissa thinks she might choke on desire at the way a mischievous smirk finds Hermione's mouth, and how she very subtly licks and bites her lower lip before speaking.
“Now that it is the case, I should get to call you by your first name?”
“My my, Ms. Granger. I'm proposing a friendship, not a love affair.”
Hermione chokes on her cappuccino and Narcissa cannot help but laugh, despite how red her own cheeks are.