Most ardently by Swift Night Chapter 4, Hermione rose with
the sun to begin the trek across the rolling hills before passing
through the village of Ottery St.
Catchpole, arriving at Featherfield by mid morning.
Travelling by broomstick would have been faster, but she had
always detested the temperamental contraptions and
after Luna's run in with a Whomping Willow yesterday, she
felt even more justified in her refusal to mount the magical
monstrosities. When it came to travelling
longer distances, such as to London, she had always done so
by thetral drawn carriage. She knew that the wealthiest
wizarding families could afford the luxuries of pork keys to
flip between London and their various country estates, but
they were often viewed as a frivolous waste for those not in
the highest echelons of society. Instantaneous travel did not
allow the opportunity to visit with one's acquaintances along
the way, even if it was the most efficient mode of travel.
Most Wizards could travel shorter distances using
Apparition, but many witches never learnt.
Hermione had shown interest in the subject upon coming of age,
but even the more progressive Mr. Weasley said it would be up
to her future husband to decide whether to teach her.
Hermione had hoofed about the unfairness of being forced to
wait until she was married. But even her stubbornness had
not swayed her father to teach her as he argued it could
potentially ruin her chances of attracting her husband.
Not that Hermione desired a husband who took offence over
such a trivial matter. As such, she was subjected to
walking everywhere she wanted to go.
She didn't usually mind walking, often bringing along a book to
entertain her along the way, or simply taking in the views of
the English countryside as she set a leisurely pace.
This morning, however, she found herself uninterested in
participating in either of those activities, her mind firmly set
on her destination. The path was slick thanks to the
rain, and the murder was unavoidable.
Hermione pushed on regardless, knowing that she could wash up
once she arrived at Featherfield.
It took over an hour to walk through the muck, but at long
last, the gates of the estate appeared and she could just make
out the grand house situated at the end of the long,
meticulously manicured Dr. She tentatively approached the
towering gates, unsure how to gain access to the grounds.
In her rush to arrive, she had forgotten to inform Mr. Zabini
of her acceptance of his invitation.
It would be too much trouble to turn back now to send him an
owl. Perhaps she would have to wait
until the house's inhabitants rose for the day before she
could be welcomed. Hermione had been mentally
preparing for such a delay, but it turned out that her concerns
were unwarranted. Upon coming into contact with
the cold iron bars, they dissolved into smoke to allow
her entry. She promised through them
without issue, looking back to see them re solidify.
Thanking Merlin that Mister Sabini had the foresight to
amend the wards before her arrival.
Her pace quickened once more until she was climbing the
steps. She didn't even have the
opportunity to knock before an oversized front door was opened
by a petite house self. Can crumsy help you miss?
Hermione had very little direct interaction with house elves
over the years. She was staunchly against the
imprisonment and exploitation of magical creatures and had made
her feelings well known, even if they seemed to often fall on
deaf ears. Of course, not all house elves
seemed to crave an end to their servitude and took offence to
Hermione, even simply suggesting they deserve to be paid for
their labour. She had accidentally insulted
the Browns family elf, Honey a few years ago when she proposed
the idea of creating an organization, the Society for
the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, or SPEW for short, to Lavender.
After reading a heartbreaking story of a wizard ordering his
house self to iron his hands when he failed to make the
appropriate flavour of scone for his son's birthday party, Honey
overheard and did not take kindly to the idea, stating that
it was an elf's duty to serve their masters and mistresses
faithfully, thus prompting an argument between the witch and
the elf. Since that day, Honey has served
Hermione scornful looks alongside her tea and biscuits
when visiting her friend. Not knowing how the elf in front
of her would react to Hermione's feelings of how self liberation,
she addressed him politely. Hello, my name is Miss Hermione
Granger. My sister, Miss Luna Lovegood,
is staying here until she recovers from her injuries
yesterday, and I've come to keep her company in the meantime.
Masters a beenie informed Crumsy of your arrival today, Miss
Granger, though we were not expecting you so early.
The elf replied, stepping back from the door and gesturing for
her to follow. This way please.
Crumsy was surprisingly quick for having such short legs in
comparison to her own. Hermione hurried along after the
creature, trying not to get distracted along the way.
Featherfield Hall was a marvel to behold.
The polished marble floors sparkled and the soft blue walls
were covered with a mix of landscapes and portraits.
Hermione had grown so distracted that she failed to notice where
the elf was leading her until he interrupted the silence by
announcing her to the room. Miss Hermione Granger has
arrived. Hermione looked up to see Mr.
Malfoy and Miss Parkinson sitting together in the dining
room enjoying their breakfast. Upon her announcement, Mr.
Malfoy stood unexpectedly from his seat to offer her a bow.
She returned the gesture with a courtesy before Miss Parkinson
spoke. My goodness, Miss Granger.
Did you? Walk all the way here.
The witch sounded offended by the mere concept.
I did. Hermione glanced down to see the
hem of her dress was caked in mud.
She blushed, not realising she would need to greet her guests
before being allowed to wash up, hoping to change the subject to
avoid any more embarrassment after a prolonged moment of
silence. Apologies for my sudden
intrusion. How is my?
Sister, she's upstairs. Mr. Malfoy answered, failing to
elaborate on Luna's well-being. Seeing that as her dismissal,
she thanked them both and retreated from the room, but not
before she called a snide remark from Miss Parkinson.
Did you see the state of her? The witch asked her companion.
She looked practically muggle covered in all that muck.
Hermione, thankfully, was spared Mr. Malfoy's reply, but from
their brief interaction at the ball a few nights prior, she was
confident he would agree and had a few insults of his own about
her current state. Crumsy LED her up the staircase
to two sets of doors opposite each other along the hall.
Miss Love got his resting in there and this shall be your
room, Miss. The elf informed her before
departing. Still feeling a bit dishevelled
after Miss Parkinson's comments, she decided to clean up before
checking in on her sister should she unexpectedly run into Mr.
Zabini. The chambers she was offered
overlooked the front drive, and while modest in comparison to
the grandeur of the house, they were still larger than her and
Luna's shared room at the borough.
It even had a private bathroom where she quickly rinsed out the
mud from her dress and laid it out to dry.
Hermione pulled another dress from the small bag Luna had
embroidered for her a few years prior.
She had experimented with Undetectable Extension charms
last year and was now able to carry around nearly everything
she owned when travelling if she so desired.
Once feeling much more polished, she emerged from her room and
crossed the hall to reunite with her sister.
When the witch spotted her head peeking through the door, a
large smile overtook her face that had Hermione practically
dashing across the room to join her.
My dearest. Luna, how are you?
She asked, taking in the current state of her sister.
The witch's arm was braced in a sling, and she had remnants of
various cuts and bruises along her exposed skin.
Oh, Hermione, I was hoping you'd come.
Luna tried to sit up higher in the bed.
I did not wish to align you about my condition when I wrote
you last night, but I am doing much better now that I have you
here to keep my spirits high. Of course I would come.
I could not bear the thought of you being here all by yourself
and Merlin knows how long. I feel like I've been such a
burden already, but they have been so kind to me.
You just missed Mr. Sabini and healer.
Smethwick coming by to check in on me.
Hermione was glad to hear that. The Healer.
Had been back. Again, and even happier to hear
that Mister Sabini was taking such an interest in Luna's
well-being. Don't frat Luna.
Hermione comforted. I'm not sure who is more pleased
with you being here, mother or Mr. Zabini.
The girls both let out a giggle at Hermione's quip, but the
movement seemed to cause her sister some pain, so she
returned to her doting to ensure she was all right.
The two witches fell into easy conversation, and despite the
change in scenery, it was like any other morning.
They would lie in bed together until their mother summoned them
to get up. After a few hours of gossiping,
Hermione could tell that Luna had grown tired and promised her
that she would return later in the day after having some much
needed rest, but not before checking to ensure she didn't
need anything first. Are you sure I can't get?
You anything? Well, if it isn't too much
trouble, could you see if Mr. Zabini?
Grows dirigible. Plums in his greenhouse?
She asked. Timidly.
I've been craving them all morning.
Yes, I'm sure a wizard with such a grand greenhouse wood, I'll
find some for you to indulge in when you wake up.
Hermione had never understood Luna's preference for the fruit,
greatly disliking them herself, but that would not stop her from
scouring the greenhouse and grounds to ensure her sister
could have such a simple comfort.
Thank you Hermione, I am so grateful.
That you were here? Luna hummed as her eyes fell
closed. As am I.
She replied, brushing her sister's hair off her forehead
before heading back into the house.
Featherfield was a maze and Hermione got lost on her way
back to the entry hall. She was about to begrudgingly
summon Crumsy to assist her when she ran into Mr. Zabini and Mr.
Malfoy. There you are, Miss Granger.
Mr. Zabini greeted her warmly. Mr. Zabini, Hermione curtsied.
I must express how appreciative I am of your diligent care of my
sister and the generous hospitality that you have shown
both of us. She is in far better comfort
here at Featherfield than she would have been at home.
It is a. Pleasure.
He smiles, before becoming rather flustered.
I mean well. It is not a pleasure that she
was injured, but a pleasure that she is.
Here she watched Mr. Sabini's eyes flash to his stoic
companion, and before he could interrupt the conversation with
a snide remark, Hermione enquired about her sister's
request. Does your?
Greenhouse grow derigible plums, Mr. Sabini Luna is craving them
and I promised I'd ask. I'm not sure.
His joyful expressions seem to falter at his uncertainty.
I have not. Visited the greenhouses yet
since. I arrived at Featherfield with
so many other things to attend to.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by
Mr. Malfoy cutting in. I have seen them growing when I
last visited. He shared, looking somewhat
uncomfortable when they both turned to look at him.
Oh, excellent news. Mr. Zabini celebrated.
I'll let Crumsey know to pick a basket for Miss Lovegood.
Oh, that won't be necessary, Hermione insisted.
I don't want to impose. I can easily pick them myself
when I let her rest. You most certainly would not be
imposing. But it is commendable to do.
Something on? One's own.
And I certainly won't refuse you.
Thank you. She curtseyed, intending to ask
directions to the greenhouse before departing, but was
interrupted once more. Draco.
Mr. Zabini shouted cheerfully, turning to the scowling wizard.
You were on your way to the greenhouses.
Why don't you show Miss Granger where to find that magical food?
And. Keep her company.
Very well. Mr. Malfoy accepted
begrudgingly. Hermione had no desire to endure
Mr. Malfoy's company for the remainder of the morning, seeing
as she still had not forgiven him for his comments about her
blood status. But she held her tongue,
accepting the offer with what she hoped was a gentle smile.
It seemed to satisfy the wizard as Mr. Sabini departed with a
cheerful goodbye to attend to his own affairs.
Mr. Malfoy didn't so much as guide her as he stomped through
the halls, leading her out a side door in a longer footpath,
forcing Hermione to hurry in order to keep pace with him.
In every interaction the pair had unfortunately had up until
this point, Hermione was the one to prompt the conversation, but
today she refused to let that pattern continue.
If he wished to converse with her, he could make the effort.
By the time the greenhouse slowly came into view, she was
convinced that they would not exchange a single word along the
journey. But he slowly slowed his stride
and spoke unexpectedly. How far was your walk this
morning to arrive at Featherfield?
A simple and innocuous question. Not too long, she replied.
About 1/2 hour to arrive at the village and another half hour
when I pass through. Would have been much faster most
days, but the roads were particularly unpleasant after
the storm. But why walk?
It would have taken 1/4. Of the time.
By a broom. And unlike yesterday, the
weather this morning was ideal for flying.
I detest flying. She bristled at his pointedness.
I always have. Everyone in her life knew her
aversion to brooms. Ginny and Charlie had both
learned practically overnight, but no matter how much Mr.
Weasley or her sisters had tried to coax her into mastering
flying, she would not relent. Mr. Malfoy gruffed in response,
and Hermione hoped he would end the conversation there, but he
continued his strange interrogation.
It seems like too much trouble to visit your fellow ward.
Luna is my sister. She failed to hide her annoyance
as she spoke. I would have gone all the way to
London for her if she needed me, as one would do for any sibling.
I still don't understand. He continued, his brows
furrowed. You do not owe her anything.
She isn't your family, nor are the Weaseleys.
They reached the greenhouse, entering the humid space as
Hermione felt her anger increasing, planting her feet as
she turned to face him. Maybe not by blood, but they are
my family by choice from the moment we went into their care.
The Weaseleys have never treated me all Luna differently than
their own daughters over something so trivial.
Would it be better if I disavowed them entirely?
Throwing. Away my affection for the wizard
on witch who dedicated years of their lives to teach.
Me magic. Should I no longer cherish the
witches I was raised alongside simply because I do not share
their hair colour? You intentionally misunderstand
me, Miss Granger. I was simply curious about your
circumstance as it is quite different from how I was brought
up. Mr. Malfoy shared.
And what great wisdom did your family impart on you on such
matters? My father raised me with the
belief that duty to 1's family should come before everything
else. Wards are to be cared for with
dignity, but they are simply guests in your home until they
come of age. Sounds like a cold way to live,
she remarked. Did your family have wards, Mr.
Malfoy? Just one.
We never got along during the time he stayed with us.
My father had not even wanted us to take him in, only agreeing at
my mother's continued insistence.
Well, I pity him for being forced to endure such a thing.
Perhaps you would have found him more agreeable if you had not
insisted on treating him like an unwelcomed visitor.
He was unpleasant towards my father and me from the moment he
arrived, never showing us any respect despite our family's
wealth and reputation. Is that how you measure who
deserves your respect? Hermione's patience had
officially run dry, no longer willing to shield the wizard in
front of her from her disdain towards him.
Perhaps you put your worth in the wrong things, Mr. Malfoy.
In my humble experience, kindness is a currency far more
valuable than galleons. It is free to give, but
priceless to receive a lesson your father seemed to have
failed to teach you. Don't speak about my father.
His nostrils flared. You did not know.
Him. Well then.
Let us both be grateful I never make his acquaintance, as I'm
certain he would have shared your illustrious opinions of me.
His eyes narrowed at her statement, but she did not wait
for his retort, setting off into the greenhouse alone to search
out the reason for her visit. Mr. Malvoy did not follow her,
but her shoulders remained stiff until she emerged from the
sweltering greenhouse with a basket of her sister's treats,
returning to the sparkling halls of Featherfield.