The Right by Parks and Fiction Chapter 10 Neville returned that
evening as if nothing had happened over lunch.
If it hadn't been for the hint of smugness as he greeted her,
she might have been able to continue pretending it hadn't
happened. Then he came out of the bedroom
dressed in one of those new sets of robes she picked out for him.
Navy blue crisp, perfectly fitted to his frame with a
powder blue shirt underneath. Fuck, why had she bought him new
clothes? Somehow Neville Longbottom had
broken out of the little box she kept him in and complicated
things. It didn't help that it was the
first time she hadn't had to fight him on not wearing his old
clothes. He'd pick them out all on his
own, and the way that they brought out the blue in his
eyes. She'd never before wanted to get
on her knees so quickly for a man in her entire life.
Fuck, she was so fucking fucked. He held out his palm.
Help me with the cufflinks. Swallowing, she rose and walked
over, pretending to be as unaffected as he was.
Rather than holding out his arms, he bent his arm at the
elbow and twisted it up so our hands were inches from his
mouth. They were almost as close as
they'd been that morning when he'd had her pressed up against
the kitchen wall. Nice shoes, he said. 5 inches.
She needed every single one that night for both the physical and
emotional boost. Neville was still taller than
her, but he seemed to be towering over her more than
normal. She cleared her throat.
Thank you. She started working on the next
one. Did you enjoy your afternoon?
Never. Never had her own fingers left
her so unsatisfied. Pretending it had nothing to do
with the encounter with Neville probably hadn't helped, just
took some time to relax. His throat made a low sound of
approval. Wish I could have joined you.
Of course he did. She started working on the
second link. Were did you do this?
Relaxing. Her eyes flicked up, pausing in
her task. Fine, he wanted to play.
She could play. Your bet.
His nostrils flared. She finished the cufflink.
Done. He smiled down at her.
Good girl. The praise slid down her back
like warm honey and coiled in her core.
Fuck, he was never fucking long bottom.
He shouldn't be able to affect her like this, shouldn't be able
to make her feel that way with two little words.
And yet, if she let herself, she would do almost anything to hear
him say those words to her again.
From the smug smile on his face, he knew it.
Want to come? Her head snapped up.
What to the yours? He said, smirk spreading.
Ready to go, arsehole. She hated this side of him, of
herself, that he could completely undo her with so few
words that he now knew it. Don't.
She broke off. She hated being vulnerable.
He already knew too much, was she really going to give him
more? Neville's eyebrow rose.
Fuck it, don't do that around them.
She cleared her throat. Around anyone.
His head dropped, closing the gap between them so his lips
almost brushed hers. Prince S.
He said, voice lower than normal.
The way the nickname rolled off his lips made her clench her
thighs together. I thought I made it very clear
that I do not like to share. The intensity in his gaze burned
straight through her. She wanted to be fucking
devoured by him. Instead, clinging to her pride,
she stepped around him toward the fireplace.
This time, he stepped into the flue with her, crowding into her
personal space. She moved away from him as soon
as they arrived in an effort to regain some of her composure,
and strutted into the game room. Everyone else was already there.
She accepted her drink from Blaze and sat down in her usual
spot next to Theo. He watched her and Neville
through narrowed eyes. There's a weird energy between
you 2 tonight. Oh fuck, no matter what Neville
had said, Theo was a NIFLA when it came to gossip.
Pansy's finished her fall line today and decided to charm all
the drawers in our home to explore the ribbons in my face
whenever I open them. Neville said.
Apparently I complained one too many times about not being able
to walk across my living room. Hermione shot her a disapproving
look, but the rest of her friends smirked.
Then why is Pansy the one who seems irritated?
Theo asked, eyes dancing. Neville took a careful sip of
his drink in a vain attempt to cover his smug smirk.
She didn't get the reaction she was hoping for.
He glanced at her with a secret smile.
It was an impressive bit of magic, though.
She rolled her eyes and took a long drink to hide how his
compliment made her feel. No one had ever called one of
her spells impressive before, Ma.
Theo said. Domestic bliss at work before
our eyes. Speaking of Draco began.
Hermione beamed. Draco and I have just bought a
house. There was a round of
congratulations and Blaze brought out one of his special
bottles of sparkling wine. Italian, obviously, but
delicious in spite of it. The new Granger Malfoy residence
was a town home within walking distance of the old Black Town
home that Sirius Black had left to Potter.
If Draco felt anything about living so close to his old
school nemesis in the townhouse that should have rightly been
his, he said nothing about it. Property is always a good
investment. Blaise said.
Draco gave him a rueful smile. Thanks for your advice the past
few months as we've worked through your new found property.
Theo asked with a falsely sympathetic sigh.
You should have patented that potion instead of giving it away
for free like I recommended two years ago.
Blaise said. That was never an option.
Draco said, voice tight. Hermione reached over and
squeezed his hand, her eyes bright with pride.
Gryffindores gag her. It was generous of Lucy to leave
you all those muggle investments you made.
Theo said. Hermione smirked.
Wouldn't it just be terrible to have the Malfoy fortune tainted
with money made from Muggles? Theo snorted.
You mean the family that argued against the Statute of Secrecy
because they made their fortune from Muggles?
Solid investments are solid investments.
Blaze turned his attention to Draco.
Have you given any further thought to the other ideas I
sent? Theo groaned.
Nouveau riche is so gauche. I'm a penniless blood traitor
now. Draco said with a hint of pride.
You're hardly penniless. Hermione said.
We have more than enough to be quite comfortable.
Draco cringed. Neville smirked as he held up
his drink to Draco. Cheers to quite comfortable
blood traitors then. From the air to the wealthiest
wizarding family in Britain, to the similar status as the Long
Buttons. For a moment she watched all
that flicker across Draco's face before he lifted his drink and
tapped his glass against Neville's, looking like he'd
swallowed something sour but was pretending it wasn't.
Cheers. Pansy caught Hermione's eyes and
they both had to immediately look away before they burst out
laughing. So you're really going to live
in town? Theo asked.
Where will you keep the Peacocks?
There will be no Peacocks, Hermione said primly.
Ah, he said. Had to choose between house
sells and Peacocks. It's a shame, but absolutely the
right one. For perhaps the first time in
her life, Hermione did not start a lecture on elf writes or the
wrongness of slavery. Instead she turned bright red
with the biggest shit eating grin she'd ever seen from Draco
Malfoy, which was saying something.
He leaned back in his chair. Moppy.
He called. There was a loud crack, followed
by the most peculiar sight Fancy had ever seen in Blaze's card
room, and to be honest, that was saying something.
A tiny house elf wearing the oddest assortment of clothes
beamed at them, a half dozen hand knit stocking caps stacked
on top of her head. Her dress looked the correct
size, but the purple silk blouse worn on top of it would have fit
a grown woman. The ensemble was topped off with
mismatched socks, 1 rainbow stripes and the other lime green
and purple Argyle. Hello, Master Draco.
The elf said cheerily. Is Mr. Stranger needing her
moppy? A strangled sort of laugh
sounded next to her from Neville.
Mistress Granger? Theo looked like he could hardly
believe himself either. And Master Drago?
House elves would only refer to the head of the household as
Master or Mistress, and sometimes their last name.
The rest of the family was referred to as their first name.
The Master or Mistress used out of respect to their relation to
the head of the household. Meaning this elf saw Hermione as
the true authority and only responded to Draco out of
respect to her. Hermione dropped her head into
her. Hands.
Oh yes, sirs. Moppy said.
Moppy is. Taking care of the Malfoy family
when Mistress Granger and the Ministry Wizards come to make
them give us clothes. A condition of Lucius's house
arrest insisted by Granger herself.
The master and mistress was not wanting to give us clothes.
No, sirs. She said.
But. Moppy and my brother and sister,
we are good elves so we stay taking care of the Malfoy
family. Then Mistress Granger, she was
coming each month checking to see what we was not, being given
too many punishments and to tell us that we is free.
Elves now, no punishments. Hermione said behind her hands.
You shouldn't have been getting any punishments.
Draco covered his mouth with his hand.
Even his shoulders shook with repressed laughter.
Moppy is liking Mistress Granger.
Moppy continued. Master.
Draco is liking Mistress Granger even more than Moppy.
Theo looked like he could barely hold in the laughter.
Doesn't Master Draco call her Mistress Granger as well?
Mistress Granger is liking us to call her Hermione, Sir.
She said with a hushed reverence.
Master Draco does, but Muppy is a good elf.
Sirs always being. Respectful.
Theo's shoulders shook with silent laughter.
Master Draco is always being nice to Muppy.
She said. When the Dark Lord was living at
the house and Mistress Bella was liking to hurt us.
Next to her, she felt Neville stiffen at the mention of
Bellatrix. The strange and little bit of
her humour died as well. Master Draco told Moppy he could
be giving her clothes so Moppy could leave, but Moppy is a good
elf and Moppy is not leaving her Master Draco.
Moppy continued. Still with her head in her
hands, Hermione collapsed into Draco's side as if she'd already
heard the story and it was still too much.
He put his arm around her and patted her on the shoulder.
Then the mouth voice is saying mean things about Mistress
Granger, Moppy said. They is calling her mean and
nasty names and Moppy is not liking this and neither is
Master Draco. Still clutching Hermione,
Draco's face hardened. Moppy leaned forward.
They is even calling Master Draco the worst name of all
sirs. She said in an exasperated
whisper. She never would have asked Draco
that, wondered if his father had ever thrown that name at him.
Mud fucker. She'd heard Lucius and her
father use it countless times, but to hear it used against her
friend, both of her friends, made her stomach roll.
Moppie continued on, ignorant of the hush in the room.
So Master Draco says he is leaving the Malfoy family and
Moppie is sad until she remembers that Mistress Granger
is saying that Moppy is a free elf.
Moppy can pick her family, and Moppy has chosen Mistress
Granger and Master Draco. Hermione turned back to the elf.
Moppy, you are a free elf. She said, a tinge of desperation
in her voice. You don't need a family anymore,
you can do whatever you want. The elf nodded frantically.
Moppy is wanting you and Master Draco from my family.
Moppy, thank you for your help. Moppy, we appreciate you, Draco
said with the steady authority of someone raised to man a life.
She nodded eagerly. Moppy is finishing putting
Mistress Granger's new books away.
With a loud crack, she disappeared.
Draco looked like he was barely holding back his laughter.
Theo shook his head. So you campaigned for almost 10
years to free ourselves and now you have one stocking your
books, Hermione Granger? He shook his head.
What self-serving hypocrisy. I've never been so proud.
She had a crazed, desperate look in her eyes.
I don't have her stocking my books.
I'm trying to free her. Hasn't stopped knitting hats
since Moppy showed up in her kitchen 1 morning.
Draco said laughing. Hermione rounded on him.
This isn't funny. I could lose my reputation and
personal credibility. He rolled his eyes.
If getting engaged to the youngest Death Eater ever didn't
damage either of those, you can't expect having a freed how
self is going to either. She continued as if she hadn't
heard him. Or worse, my job.
Interesting priorities. Theo said, never let out a bark
of laughter. She even went so far as to
literally give Moppie the shirt off her back thinking it would
work. Draco said.
Pansy gasped. I thought I recognised that
blouse. Oh, I gave that to you.
And Moppie keeps insisting she is a free elf and a free elf
gets to pick her family. Draco said.
Theo was laughing now too. Seems logical to me.
Hermione now pays Moppie a weekly wage.
Draco said. And Moppie has taken every nut
she's received directly to Flourishing Blocks to purchase
books for Hermione. Because, and I quote it, is
making Mistress Granger so happy.
Hermione groaned. How have the selections been?
Theo asked. Any book she can find on
Hermione, Potter or Weasel. Draco said.
Neville had now completely given over to laughter, doubling over
as his entire body shook. Does Ron?
No. Hermione rounded on him,
pointing her finger. None of them know, and none of
them will know. I find it interesting that
someone with such strong beliefs about the rights of ourselves is
the only one trying to force Moppy into stopping exactly what
she wants to do. Draco said.
Hermione's finger flew to point at him.
You just don't think you can live without a house elf.
Moppy and I are perfectly happy with our current arrangement.
It's you who is objecting. He said.
She's free, she has a paid wage, and she's treated like a member
of the family. It's literally everything you
wanted for house elves. Hermione dropped her head onto
the table with another groan. Does this mean the Vomit Club is
formally disbanded? Pansy asked.
It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.
Neville corrected. He turned to Hermione.
And I, for one, would like to request the return of
Martusicles. Without lifting her head, she
tossed you at him from across the betting table.
Pansy grinned at him. You actually joined the club to
get her to stop asking? He said.
Apparently I'm not as resistant to Hermione's tenacity as Moppy
the house elf. Draco smirked.
Few among us are. The next two weeks we're busy.
Entirely because she took possession of her new storefront
and it was going to take the full 2 weeks to make sure
everything was set up exactly as she wanted so she could open on
time. Not because she was avoiding
Neville, avoiding his long lingering looks and the hint of
a smug smirk as he watched her, as if he knew a secret, which he
did, and it would stay that way. Their situation was complicated
enough without bringing that into it.
It made no sense. He had no problem admitting how
much he wanted to spank her. Merlin, she couldn't think about
it without blushing. But he refused to fuck her.
He'd refused to spank her too, actually.
She didn't understand it, hated that she didn't understand it.
She wanted to know, but refused to be the one to bring it up.
And so she stayed busy. Finally, after 2 long weeks of
work, breaking only for Slytherin night on Friday,
everything was ready. All that was left was to bring
in the outfits and accessories, make the finishing touches over
the weekend, and she'd be ready to open on Monday.
She rounded the winding loop of Diagon Alley and stopped in her
tracks. It was her store, and yet it
wasn't the big beautiful window she loved so much.
The one she polished to a shine right before she left for the
night was shattered on the ground.
The tasteful sitting area with cream coloured couches had been
destroyed, upholstery shredded and stuffing exploded all over
the area. Mirrors were shattered.
Doors ripped off the changing rooms.
Shelves were broken, the few decorative pieces crushed into
the wood floor, but that wasn't the worst of it.
Keep Diagon Alley Death Eater Free, painted in bright red
right above what remained of her windows.
Before she had the chance to fully process what she was
seeing, a crack of apparition sounded directly next to her.
Oh shite Pansy, she knew that voice.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she recognised it.
And yet, Death Eater. I came as soon as I got the
call. The voice rambled on.
I was hoping I could get it cleaned up before you saw.
Before she saw. This would take days.
Bloody hell, let me get Mione. There was a muttered incantation
and a flash of bright silver. Draco hated that he called her
that. It was such an inconsequential
thought compared to the destruction in front of her, and
yet it was all she could think about.
How irritated Draco got when he heard Harry Potter using
Hermione's nickname. Death, eat her shite.
Draco couldn't see this either if Hermione saw it and told him.
But before she could so much as turn, her friend was there,
brown eyes shining with concern. She hadn't even heard her
apparate. It was hard to hear anything
over the ringing in her ears. Gentle hands touched the top of
her shoulders, rubbed her arms. Come on, Pansy, let's go to the
Leaky for some breakfast. A shutter snapped, and there was
a bright flash in a cloud of purple smoke.
Fuckers. Harry muttered under his breath.
He raised his voice, taking on his official o'er a tone.
This is an active crime scene. No journalists.
Ora Potter Should law abiding store owners be concerned about
the attention former Death Eaters will bring than be
concerned for their safety and livelihoods?
She closed her eyes. Former Death Eater will miss
Parkinson's business. Licence be revoked.
Her stomach clenched. They couldn't, wouldn't.
Hermione wouldn't let that happen.
At least Miss Parkinson has as much right as any witch or
wizard to lease or own a property along this street.
Harry snapped. Through the small bubble of
relief, she realised what else had seemed so wrong about what
the journalist had said. Missus Longbottom.
Hermione turned to her. What?
It's Missus Longbottom, She said, her voice barely above a
whisper. Not Miss Parkinson.
Hermione's head whipped toward the journalists.
And that's Missus Longbottom to you all.
Bollocks. Sorry Pansy, Harry said.
Harry, you have to make a statement.
Hermione said. He let out a sharp hoof and
marched over to the journalists. Hermione spoke. 2 quick
incantations, sending off 2 silver otters.
A small piece of stuffing fluttered back and forth in the
now doorless entryway, light enough that it had managed to
drift from a pile of destroyed seating, but too heavy for the
wind to carry it completely away.
The Department for Magical Law Enforcement will be conducting A
thorough investigation into the perpetrator of these crimes
against Mrs. Longbottom. Harry said.
Any law abiding owner on this street, like Misses Longbottom,
can be assured that our auras will not tolerate this behaviour
and will see justice served. As this is an ongoing
investigation, there will be no further comments at this time.
No photographs. The journalists continue calling
out questions, but Harry ignored her.
There were more cracks as additional auras arrived on the
scene. One of them took one look at
Harry and then ran to do crowd control herself.
You OK, pants? She glanced up into familiar
grey eyes filled with concern. Hers immediately started filling
with tears, but she blinked back the burning.
How long had Draco stared at the scene?
How long had those flashing, cruel words blinked down at him?
Chin up. He said, soft enough that only
she could hear. Never let them see her cry.
It was enough to straighten her spine, swallow back the tears.
He nodded once at her pride in his gaze.
He knew this so much worse than she ever would.
If he could endure all he had, she could too.
We're going to the Leakey while Harry and the crew gets
everything fixed up. Hermione told him.
Before Draco had the chance to answer there was another crack
and Neville appeared, still wearing the dirt stained apron
and smelling of Pete. He gaped for a moment at the
scene and then found her. He sprinted over, grabbing her
arms. Are you OK, were you hurt?
No, not physically. He must have seen it in her
face. His expression hardened.
Harry got here less than a minute after she did.
Hermione said. George put in the call when he
came to open up and saw what happened.
George Weasley reported a crime against her.
She hadn't known it was him, Maybe someone had told her and
she just hadn't heard. They kept talking as she stood
there staring at the mess that was the store she'd been so
proud of only minutes before. Neville squeezed her hands.
I'm going to talk to Harry. I'll meet you at the Leafy in a
bit, OK? Smiles were beyond her, but she
forced her expression in what she hoped was at least a
pleasant look and nodded. Numb.
Everything was just numb. More and more owners were
arriving for the day. Some gave her looks of pity,
others were stoic. How many were happy?
How many believed she deserved this death?
Eat her. Just like that, she was back at
her trial, sitting in front of the Wizengemot, hearing Harry
Potter's hoof of disgust as he stormed out of the chambers
before she was given a chance to speak in her defence.
Not that it would have mattered in the end anyway.
They saw what they wanted to see, Always had, always would.
A warm mug of coffee was pushed into her hands.
She glanced up and realised they were already in the Leakey.
Thanks, Hannah, Hermione said the pretty blonde, which gave
her a smile. When she looked back at Pansy,
it dimmed. Right.
Hannah Abbott, Hufflepuff, their year, Neville's X, whose muggle
born mother had been murdered by Death Eater's sixth year.
I'm so sorry for what happened to your store.
Pansy blinked, but Hannah seemed sincere, not that she had any
right to be. Words were beyond her, but she
nodded her thanks. Let me know if you 3 need
anything else. Thanks, Hannah.
Hermione said. Pansy stared at the steaming
brown liquid in her mug. I've seen the Aura team at work,
they're brilliant. Hermione said, filling the
silence with nervous chatter as Hannah walked back to the bar.
With the number of them there, I'd say that they'd get
everything fixed up and in top shape by noon.
Then we can increase the protective enchantments.
We'll let Theo do that. Draco said.
No one was better at ward building than Theo.
Unless Pansy wants someone to walk around with a vandal
written across their face in painful boils for the next year.
He added. At the reminder of what Hermione
had done to Marietta Edgecomb, something between a laugh and a
snort burst through her mouth. Hermione looked concerned, but
Draco grinned. Oh Merlin.
More laughter started to bubble up.
But do you remember the balaclava?
She wore it for the rest of fifth year.
Hermione's lips pressed together.
Pansy couldn't stop. And then, when he was still
there, 6th year, and not even all that make up could cover up
sneak, She laughed again. Hermione cleared her throat.
I might have been a bit overzealous.
You. Draco gasped with mock
disbelief. Pansy fingered her mug as the
two fell into their familiar playful banter.
If Draco could smile and laugh minutes after the reminder of
what their world really thought of them, she could do it too.
What better way to show those sanctimonious, hypocritical
fuckers she wasn't going anywhere.
The store would be fixed, Theo and Hermione would ward it so
that no one could so much a spit in its direction, and she'd be
open on Monday morning as planned.
Half an hour later, on her way back from the loo, Potter's
raised voice stopped her in her tracks.
Outside the Leakey. I don't give a fuck.
He wasn't the one who did it. Knowing she was a target and not
only ignoring it but skipping rounds is as good as it's
Creswell, an unfamiliar voice said.
And what happened to his dad? You of all people should
understand. Then he can blame Runcorn or
Scabia or Greyback, all of whom are either dead or in Azkaban
like they deserve. Not an innocent woman just
because her father served Voldemort.
Innocent from Harry fucking Potter obviously sharing her
shock, the other person scoffed. First time I hear fancy
Parkinson described as innocent, he said.
I may not have been in your year, Longbottom.
What? It's Pansy Longbottom, Harry
said, his voice called. Neville's wife, who I would like
to remind you deserves as much credit as me or Ron or Hermione
for defeating Voldemort. I never said a word against
Neville. You can't claim to respect him
if you disrespect his wife. Harry snapped.
Well there they were again, associating her worth with the
man she was attached to. How disappointing from the
chosen one. We'll find who did this and hold
them responsible. Gresswell should be fired, he's
lost enough I reckon. The other man said quietly.
So have I, and I'm not turning my back while innocent women are
attacked. Perhaps he could throw that word
around the office a time or two. Sure.
St. Scarhead.
Potter calling her innocent counted as a full pardon.
So this was the new society they were trying to create, One where
Ora's sat back and watched while anyone associated with Death
Eaters was targeted. She strode away, walking back
towards Draco and Hermione. Another conversation, one she
unfortunately couldn't hear, made her pause.
Neville standing at the bar talking with Hannah.
She couldn't see his face from this angle, but she could see
hers, ripe with emotion, sadness, regret, longing.
She remembered the way he dragged his hands through his
hair. I always thought Hannah and I
would eventually work things out.
I just feeling like a Royer. She walked back to the table.
Hermione and Draco kept glancing between her and the couple at
the bar. Draco looked concerned, but
Hermione was looking at her like an Arithmansi problem.
She sat, curling her hands around the now lukewarm mug of
coffee. I don't think that they've seen
each other since they broke up. Hermione said.
I think the wedding came as a surprise to her.
She flashed her friend a flippant grin.
You say that like there was someone the wedding didn't come
as a surprise to. Draco snorted.
Hermione only hummed, tapping her lower lip with her finger as
she studied Pansy. She was saved from the further
scrutiny of her two best friends by the arrival of the Chosen 1.
Neville extracted himself from the bar and followed Potter over
to the table. He took the seat next to her,
immediately pulling one of her hands into his.
She looked down at it for a moment, how neatly her fingers
entwined with his. The screech of a chair drug her
eyes up as Potter pulled a chair up to the booth.
What do you know? Neville asked.
I brought a couple of members of the Curse Breaker team and
they've been over every inch of the shop, but it appears to be
just simple vandalism. Simple vandalism?
As if her shop being destroyed and her being threatened was
nothing. Not that she'd preferred to have
the place cursed and jinxed, but hearing Potter put such a simple
spin on it stung. And he leads on the perpetrator?
Neville asked. Potter hesitated.
Here's where he lied. Protected his colleague.
Who could have stopped this? Yes, he said.
Our office received a tip about the attack.
We're following up with the note now.
Hermione straightened. Someone who knew who did it.
Potter inhaled slowly from the vandal, warning whoever was on
duty to not be present on the street at the time of the
attack. There was a long, heated
silence. Who?
Neville demanded. Cresswell.
Potter said. My assumption is that the vandal
chose him because of his family history with Death Eaters.
Pansy said The Chosen One had no problem with using the Dark
Lord's name, but he couldn't say Death Eater in front of her or
Draco. Potter sighed.
Which isn't you, Pansy. The new paint above my shop
would suggest otherwise. Neville squeezed her hand.
Was Cresswell fired? Hermione asked.
Potter tugged his glasses off, rubbed the bridge of his nose
before he replaced them. Two weeks suspension.
He said with pay. Draco snorted lightly.
Hermione looked appalled. He lets Pansy's shop get
destroyed and he gets two weeks vacation.
Neville snapped. Draco gave him a look of pure
condensation. Robards made the call and it's
above my head. Potter turned to her.
I will find out whoever did this, I promise.
He would probably try his best until someone committed a crime
against a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff and that
took priority. Not just Ora's looking the other
way. Thanks, Harry.
Hermione said softly. I'll keep you updated.
Harry lingered for a moment longer before he rose and walked
away. That's, that's not right.
Neville said. Creswell can't get away with
that. He, I'm afraid he very much can.
Draco said something you should prepare yourself to continue to
see happen. Hermione reached over and rested
her hands on Draco's. The two war heroes and their
Slytherin partners. There are anti discrimination
laws in place. Neville said.
Everyone who willingly served Voldemort is in Azkaban for
life. Anyone left has done their time
or is innocent. She could feel Draco's eyes
heavy on her. She didn't meet them, couldn't
answer the question in them. Of course she hadn't told
Neville, nor would she. It's we're trying, Hermione
said. It will.
It will just take time. Endless optimism, important when
camping out for months on end trying to defeat the darkest
Wizard of the age with minimal resources.
But watching it be crushed over and over again every time Draco
was treated as lesser was taking its toll on even Granger's
relentless tenacity. If there was no hope for the
future husband of Hermione Granger, what was there for
Pansy Parkinson?