The Truth
Malfoy and Theo were waiting for the Aurors to Floo in and release their fathers into their custody. They stood uneasily, fidgeting. Theo had a cigarette hanging out of the edge of his mouth. He drank something from a mug that Malfoy was sure it wasn't tea.
ROAR.
The neon green flames came to life in the Department of Magical Law Enforecement's private hearths.
CLINK.
CLANK.
The metal chain of their cuffs dragged along the floor. For the first time in years, the sons laid eyes on their fathers.
The preparations were underway for the Ministry Gala at Nott Manor. House elves scurried around, deep cleaning, picking up decorations, and beautifying the grounds. The house, itself, was enormous, cold, and full of tapestries and collections.
"Nothing like a gala to get the moths out," Theo said.
Senior grunted. Before Azkaban, he was already tall and gaunt. The years in prison only hollowed out his eyes and cheeks more. "Why are you covering up the portraits?"
"Besides the fact that they're hideous? Many of our honoured guests will be Muggleborn, Father. The blood wards have been adjusted."
Senior grunted again. "I'm going to my rooms."
The chamber music swelled, as Nott Manor lit up like twinkling stars in the denim sky for the first time in a decade.
Hermione gripped nervously onto the crux of Malfoy's elbow at the gates. Magic rippled through the air.
"You ready?"
Her breath was shaky. "As much as I'll ever be."
A step behind her, Neville whispered, "At least it's not Malfoy Manor."
His voice was low, but Malfoy caught it. He stiffened. His other hand clasped over Hermione's, squeezing it.
She gasped without opening her mouth. A sharp inhale with a sudden break. She studied his hand, as if it were an Arithmancy problem. "Oh, you don't need—"
His hand withdrew, as if burned.
A yard away, a muffled voice said sarcastically, "Yeah, go on. We're all behind you, Golden Girl." It was Theo's, standing apart from them and lighting another cigarette.
The night was a swirl of bright lights, heady champagne, and insufferable small talk.
TING. TING.
Constance Pickering, Shacklebolt's assistant hit the rim of her flute with her ruby ring, its tinkling sound reverberating throughout the ballroom. Hermione was sure a Sonorous charm was placed over the glass.
Shacklebolt stepped up to a makeshift podium, created in an alcoved section of the room, backlit by a pane of floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto the Manor grounds.
"Friends, donors, and politicians."
A pregnant pause. A few mirthless chuckles.
"We are here to celebrate the new Werewolf legislations, pushing away the harmful policies of the old, and ushering a new era of inclusion for all Magical creatures. We have forged a partnership with Potions 'n Parchments, a boutique apothecary. With their lab connections and ability to mass produce a new and improved version of Wolfsbane, we are able to provide the potion at cost in all local chemists. The rest will be subsidized by the British Magical National Health System.
Tonight we celebrate the people behind the policies.
Mr. Neville Longbottom, war veteran, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, accompanied by Mr. Theodore Nott Jr., co-owner of Potions n' Parchments. Mr. Longbottom was an active member of the Order of the Phoenix and fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. He was instrumental in establishing our partnership with the local company."
Ms. Hermione Granger, war veteran, Department of Regulation and Care for Magical Creatures, accompanied, Mr. Draco Malfoy, co-owner of Potions n' Parchments. Ms. Granger was a key player in the Second Wizarding War. She is noted for spearheading the campaign for changing the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to 'Care.'"
A few more sarcastic chuckles.
"Let's welcome them."
Dutiful applause.
"Also, we want to acknowledge Theodore Nott Sr. and Lucius Malfoy. Thank you for opening up your enterprises and homes to us. May this be the start of a meaningful collaboration between the old and the new; the Sacred 28 and the unstoppable faces and forces of the new Ministry." Shacklebolt punctuated his last words, staring down at the silent, broken men at the back of the ballroom.
"You need to tell her, mate," Theo hissed in Malfoy's ear, as they stood at the bar, grabbing drinks for themselves and their dates and watching Neville twirl Hermione on the dance floor.
"This is neither the time nor the place."
"Draco," a gruff, raspy voice called out. Lucius hobbled over slowly.
CLICK.
CLACK.
His cane thudded rhythmically on the ground.
"I would like to go home now before I'm forced to hob nob anymore with these Muggleborns." He clicked his teeth, making clear to everyone what he meant when he said the word.
Lucius looked much older than his 55 years. Frail and haunted, he was reed thin and his silver hair shorn close to his head.
At that moment, Neville and Hermione floated over from their dance, laughing along with Harry and Ginny. Ron hated networking, so he opted to babysit his nieces and nephews.
Theo gave Neville a dazzling smile and handed him a bubbling flute. Draco followed suit.
"Ms. Granger," Lucius hissed, smooth as a Slytherin snake ever was. His eyes roamed over her simple sheath dress and practical heels. His derision dripped off of him.
"Mr. Malfoy," she returned.
"I suppose I should thank you for continuing to help our family so much. Contaminating my house and now my enterprises."
"Father, this is not appropriate—" Draco warned.
"I have done nothing except follow my heart, as you have. Your outcomes are the natural consequences of your choices, not whatever you perceive my transgressions to be."
Lucius opened his mouth, but Neville interrupted him. "Please be careful about how you speak to my colleague and good friend. It is the DMLE's good name and faith in the legislation that allowed you and Nott Sr.'s petition even get considered before the Wizengamot. This is no longer the world you knew."
Lucius' silver eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, glaring at the Wixens.
Theo slurped his drink. "That was so fucking sexy. Care to dance?"
"Will it make your father angry?" Neville asked.
"Exceedingly." He smiled rakishly.
"Let's go."
Draco Floo'd her home in silence. "Granger, I'm sorry about my father."
"I don't expect you to disrespect your parents in front of me. I know how important family is, especially to Purebloods. Not matter how foul he may be," she said without affect.
"I still owe you an apology."
She sighed, stepping out of her shoes, curling her toes on the thick rug. "Do you want a cuppa?"
Without thinking, he nodded and followed her to the kitchen.
"Lucius isn't going to be at the apothecary. He's still on house arrest. He'll be for a long time. You won't ever need to see him or deal with him on a day-to-day basis ... As for me, I'll be as hands-on or hands-off as you need. If you don't want to deal with me—"
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
"That's it?"
"That's it for now. You're sorry. I get it. It doesn't change the past. It doesn't change the marks on my arm. It also doesn't change the fact that we were children making impossible decisions. You chose your family. I'm not going to fault you for that. You didn't like me. And you didn't know me. But I can't—be responsible for your redemption or whatever they call it in the Prophet. I'm not going to lug around the restoration of your family name on my shoulders. And I won't let Neville do it either. I don't have the energy. I'm old. I'm not going to tell you how to act or be around me. Just be you. And if you suck—which I'm sure you will—I'll let you know, and you can choose what you want to do with the information. But you can do the same for me. If you care to, you can show me you've changed through your actions, not your words."
She started the process of boiling water and setting two teabags into mismatched mugs with cats on them. One of them was Crookshanks; the other was him smiling in the countryside on their first trip together.
[Image: A cartoon drawing on a white and grey cat on a mug.]
He switched the mugs around. He wasn't going to drink out of his own face.
"Merlin, Granger ..."
"What?"
"Your taste in kitchen decor—is hideous."
She laughed heartily. "Please, my cats are magnificent. Were—are, whatever."
Hermione stirred her tea, clinking on the sides.
Draco's upbringing would abhor it, but it was just another one of Hermione's wonderful quirks to him.
"It must be strange to have him back in the Manor."
Malfoy shrugged. "I don't spend much time there. I just had it prepared for him, cleaning and clearing out the dust."
"You don't live at the Manor?"
"No, haven't since—I have a small flat near Diagon Alley. In London."
"Small?" She quirked the right side of her mouth.
"I assure you it's adequately sized. None of the Witches ever complained."
Hermione rolled her eyes at the innuendo. "Just as mature as in Sixth-Year, I see."
They sat in amenable silence, finishing up their tea. She stood up to gather the dishes.
Malfoy's insides twisted. He wondered when she'd become so beautiful. Wondered when he'd begun to notice it. Wonder why he did what he did. Why he didn't leave the day after she saved him from the cage. Why he didn't leave earlier. Why he didn't leave after months with her. He was a coward. He often took the easiest way. But her presence was a balm to him. Peace, if he'd ever known it. And he was greedy. He wanted more. The last few months without her made him morose and lonely. The kind of lonely other Witches could help with. Merlin knows he tried.
His grey eyes studied her actions, when he suddenly reached out and gripped her hands, causing her to almost drop the ugly mugs. "Granger, I need to tell you something."
She sat back down, curious, brown eyes and tilted her head up at him.
He sighed and took out his hawthorn wand, aiming it at himself. He muttered incantations under his breath.
A hazy fuzz of light emanated out of his chest and poured over his body. His handsome features glowed, distorting, shrinking, and melding into a fluffy, white and grey cat. His tailored clothes fell into a heap on the floor.
Lynx.
She inhaled sharply, taking in the shape of Cat!Draco. She suppressed the urge to pet him.
Cat!Draco sniffed, staring up at Hermione, his mistress.
[Image: A white cat stares up, and is lit against an orange-pink light.]
Sharp tears stung at the edges of her eyes, and a lump that refused to dissolve crystallized in her throat, making it hard to speak or swallow.
"Why did you do this?", she managed in a hoarse whisper.
Cat!Draco rowled in a raspy way, sounding like almost Granger.
A reel of memories played through her mind's eyes, now with added context, each more humiliating than the last.
[Image: A white and grey cat leans on the arm of a cat bed. Implied memory: Cat!Draco watches Hermione change.]
[Image: A white and grey cat in a cardboard box stares at the camera. Implied memory: Cat!Draco sees Hermione go home with Cormac.]
[Image: A white and orange cat squished inside a shoe box. Implied memory: Hermione plays with Cat!Draco, speaking to him in a baby voice.]
[Image: A black and white cat with its eyes closed, sticks out its tongue. Implied memory: Hermione boops Cat!Draco on the nose and kisses him on the mouth.]
[Image: A white kitten lies on its back asleep on a brown cushion. Implied memory: Hermione strokes sleeping Cat!Draco's belly full of milk.]
[Image: A white kitten flies through the ear. Implied memory: Cat!Draco and Hermione play games like Superman.]
[Image: A woman sits on a windowsill with a white and grey cat in her lap. She bites his paws. Implied memory: Hermione bites Cat!Draco's toe beans and sings Muggle songs to him.]
Hermione's glistening eyes widened with horror. "Was I just a joke to you? Something to make fun of? Tell your Pureblood friends and father about how ridiculous and sad the Mudblood is?"
She swished her wand, wordlessly opening the front door, then sending Cat!Draco up and sent out through the front door, throwing his clothes along with him. The door slammed in Cat!Draco's face.
Cat!Draco sat outside, flicking his tail, despondent.
[Image: A white and orange cat cries out in the grass.]