Most ardently by Swift Night Chapter 16 The morning arrived
to deliver another sunny day to contrast the storm clouds
swirling within Hermione's mind. She could not help but feel
something terrible was looming, though she pushed back against
the feeling. Hermione Granger was not a
superstitious witch, and allowing her emotions to dictate
the course of her day would only ensure she was miserable.
While the Grangers ate their breakfast downstairs in the
Peacock plume, she received a letter with a wax seal embossed
with a familiar Peacock. Her nerves returned and she
worried why Mr. Malfoy would feel inclined to write her so
soon after only seeing him yesterday, but her anxiety
turned out to be unnecessary. His short missive had simply
informed her that he was sending his carriage to collect them all
at midday, since their own carriage was still being
repaired and would not be ready until the following morning.
It was a thoughtful gesture, and one that she had not expected,
even despite his sudden change in countenance.
She used her free time that morning to write a brief letter
to Luna, explaining how the family's carriage troubles had
delayed them, but choosing to leave out how they planned to
spend the day. It felt somewhat dishonest, but
again, Hermione would not be able to explain her complicated
history with the wizard on a single sheet of parchment.
Perhaps when she returned home, she would find her courage to
admit to Luna all that had transpired since the spring.
When time finally arrived for them to set off the Malfoy
Manor, Hermione watched the thestral drawn carriage make its
way to stop in front of the inn, the doors opening by magic
without the need for any footman.
They had only just started moving when her mother voiced
her displeasure at the mode of magical transportation.
I am aware therestrels are preferred by Wizards and witches
over horses, however, I must admit I find it quite concerting
to not be able to see the creatures as they pull us along.
Hermione recalled how she too found it uncomfortable in her
early years in the wizarding world, but when she was little,
she thought the carriages moved on their own accord.
She still vividly remembered the day she and her sisters first
caught sight of the skeletal creatures.
Around the time she and Luna were 12, the Weasleys brought
them to visit Great Aunt Muriel. It was during the week long
visit that the witch passed peacefully in her sleep,
surrounded by the girls who had taken turns reading to her in
her final days. After the funeral, when the
family prepared to return to the borough, they were met with
quite a fright when they caught sight of the thestrals awaiting
them. Hermione had been particularly
unsettled, but it was Luna who calmed her with comforting words
about how they were gentle creatures and had always been
there to watch over them even when they could not be
perceived. They are faster and can go much
further distances than horses. Mr. Granger said to their
defence, though his wife failed to look convinced.
I suspect Mr. Malfoy must have a grand stable of thestrels to
pull all his fine carriages. Yes, I can admit the carriage is
exquisite, Missus Granger conceded reluctantly before
elaborating. Don't fret, I shall keep my
qualms to myself, as I would hate to insult Mr. Malfoy with
my aversion to the creatures. After all, he cannot help how
wealthy he is, and with such wealth come luxuries I am
unaccustomed to. Hermione felt unwilling to share
her own opinion on the matter, and the topic was changed to
speculate about what would be served during dinner.
The discussion of food had Hermione ravenous.
By the time the carriage came to a stop, Dollop was waiting to
welcome them inside, seeming quite pleased to see them again.
This time, the elf escorted them to a more private wing, away
from the rooms they had toured previously.
When the doors opened to the drawing room, she announced
them. Mr. and Missus Granger and Miss
Hermione Granger. Hermione stepped inside, taking
in the space. The walls were a soft blue
colour, and ivory curtains framed the floor to ceiling
windows across one of the walls. An opulent crystal chandelier
hung in the centre of the space, refracting the ample sunlight
streaming into the room from outside.
Mr. Malfoy stood behind a tufted chase where his mother was
perched with a book. Once Hermione's foot crossed the
threshold, Missus Malfoy quickly stood, tucking the book under
her arm. She poached until the witches
met in the middle of the room, offering Hermione A dazzling
smile. Miss Granger?
Missus Malfoy curtseyed and Hermione mirrored the action.
My mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy.
Mr. Malfoy cut in, startling Hermione as she had not noticed
his quiet approach. My son has told me so much about
you. I feel as if we are friends
already. The sincerity of the statement
was only further complemented by the witch's warm expression.
Now that she was face to face with her, Hermione could see the
similarities between Mr. Malfoy and his mother in greater
detail. They shared the same nose and
elegant features, though her eyes were blue instead of
shimmering silver. Thank you.
She replied timidly before catching sight of the spine of
the book in Missus Malfoy's possession.
Is that the tales of Beadle the Bard?
Missus Malfoy's smile grew wider as she held it out for Hermione
to better examine. It Is.
She exclaimed. A first edition, no less.
It was a gift from Draco for Christmas last year.
He shouldn't have, but he constantly insists on spoiling
me, as I most certainly should. The wizard interjected, his
stern tone contrasting with the softness of his expression
towards his mother. Oh, very well then, I cannot
refuse such gifts. The witch conceded, easily
persuaded. Hermione could tell that Missus
Weasley was no stranger to such lavish presence, but watching
the way that she held the book reverently, it clearly meant a
great deal to her. Regardless of its monetary
value, a first edition must be very rare.
Hermione prompted to keep the conversation from strolling.
When I was at Featherfield Hall last fall, I saw a second
edition of Fantastic be somewhere to find them.
I thought I might faint from excitement.
Ah yes, Draco said you were very fond of reading.
Did you enjoy the Malfoy library yesterday?
Hermione blushed under the witch's question, having to
admit the truth of yesterday's events.
I did not have the pleasure. Unfortunately, I became
separated during the tour and then got lost in the gardens,
catching the eye of Mr. Malfoy. Her blush only deepened, knowing
he had been the one to catch her wandering the grounds.
His expression held no judgement, but she could still
not help but feel embarrassed by the incident.
Then I must take you to see it. The older witch declared,
redrawing Hermione's attention. I would not want to impose,
Missus Malfoy. She said, despite her
desperation to witness the promised marvel.
Please do not trouble yourself for me.
Nonsense, I insist. Missus Malfoy turned to her son.
My dragon, you must force her. Mr. Malfoy coughed in surprise
at his mother's order and the attention of both of the witches
returned to him. I am fairly confident there is
not a witch or wizard alive that can force Miss Granger into
anything, and as much as you wish to show her, I do not claim
to be an exception in any regard.
His eyes strayed to Hermione while he gave it reply.
However, I did agree last night to give Mr. and Missus Granger a
tour of the grounds this afternoon, and seeing as Miss
Granger has already walked them, perhaps she would be amiable to
having tea in the library with you instead.
Mother. His eyes conveyed the silent
question, and when phrased like that, she did not want to refuse
his proposed compromise. I would prefer to stay indoors
if that is an option. She agreed.
I do not fancy the idea of encountering any more Peacocks.
Mr. Malfoy chuckled at her quip. I can assure you that Maximus is
usually a gentle creature. You simply caught him by
surprise. She scoffed.
He nearly shoved me into a fountain.
I wouldn't have let any harm come to you, Miss Granger.
The softness in his voice returned his conviction, causing
her heart to flutter. I know, Sir.
She replied, barely above a whisper.
It was as if the fog of her preconceived notions about the
wizard had finally lifted and she could see him for who he
truly was. Mr. Malfoy was a proud man, but
he wasn't a cruel 1. He felt deeply protective of
those he cared about, but it was his actions, not his words, that
gave him away. She felt certain that despite
their precarious past, he would do everything in his power to
keep her from harm while she was with him.
The realisation had her chest clenching, an ache that seemed
to seep into her very bones. If only she had seen him like
this sooner. Mrs. Malfoy cleared her throat,
breaking Hermione's focus from the gentleman in front of her.
The mischievous glint in her eyes made Hermione feel she knew
exactly what the witch had been thinking.
Wonderful. She proclaimed to the room at
large. Miss Granger and I shall visit
the library while we wait for your tour of the gardens to
finish, my dragon, then we can all sit down for dinner.
The Grangers, whom Hermione had completely forgotten about
during her encounter with the Malfoys, stepped forward with
eager expressions, offering polite thanks to their hosts for
their hospitality. Mr. Malfoy offered his own
thanks to her parents for choosing to return.
Of course, this only seemed to further prove there was as good
nature to Mr. and Missus Granger.
Hermione's guilt bubbled up at the thought of the scathing
words she wrote about the gentleman to her mother last
winter, and she hoped her mother had discarded them so as to not
discover her previous feelings. Seeing now how he had changed,
she still could not identify his reasons, but she had her
suspicions, even if she was afraid to voice them out loud.
Mr. Malfoy gave her a parting glance and his well wishes
before stepping through the terrace doors with the Grangers.
Once he had gone, Missus Malfoy hooked her arm with Hermiones.
Shall we, my dear? Yes.
Hermione nodded, letting the witch pull her out of the door
of the drawing room, down an unfamiliar hallway.
Are we not going through the Portrait Gallery?
No, we will use the entrance in the east wing.
I'm avoiding my husband's portrait at the moment.
The witch gave us her reasoning. But why are you avoiding him?
The question bubbled out of her. Mrs. Malfoy stopped abruptly,
turning to look at Hermione. I thought it would be obvious,
seeing as it was you and your family who had to witness his
atrocious behaviour yesterday, for which I must profusely
apologise. Hermione had not forgotten the
late Mr. Malfoy's insults, but she had not thought his wife
would deem it worthy of avoiding him on purpose as some sort of
punishment. That isn't necessary, Missus
Malfoy. It is entirely necessary, dear.
I won't have a welcome guest insulted in my home.
Ah, few days of brooding alone should sort him out.
I was married to him for nearly 30 years, so I know better than
anyone how to get what I want from him.
Is that how you convinced him to let Mr. Potter come live with
you as a ward? She immediately wanted to
obliviate them both from forgetting the question the
moment it tumbled from her lips, afraid of appearing too forward
in her familiarity. Apologies, Missus Malfoy, that
was rude of me to ask. Not at all.
And please, call me Narcissa. The witch insisted.
I. Very well, then, you may call me
Hermione, and you most certainly do not have to answer my
question. She felt her cheeks warm, the
ordeal feeling rather intimate. All the witches whom she'd
called so informally were her own age and Missus Malfoy.
Narcissa was old enough to be her mother.
It would please me greatly to do so, Hermione.
As for your question, I am not surprised you would ask me such
a thing. Draco told me you had
encountered Harry during his visit to Ottery St.
Catchpole, and I do believe you are aware of their shared
history. Nasisa waited for Hermione to
nodding confirmation before continuing.
So yes, I did have to go to extreme lengths to convince
Lucius to let the boy come and live with us, and then again to
ensure he could stay until he came of age.
All because he was the godson of your cousin.
You must have been very close to your family to feel such a need.
The witch shrugged, resuming her pace as she guided Hermione
deeper into the Manor. It had been over 10 years since
I'd laid eyes on Sirius at the time of his death, though I was
fine with everyone assuming that our shared family blood was the
reason for my insistence on taking in the boy.
Blacks have a reputation for putting duty to their family
first. In truth, I was far closer to
Harry's mother than I was ever to my cousin, Mr. Potter's
mother. Hermione was puzzled by the
statement. Even Mr. Potter had believed his
godfather's relation to Narsissa to be the reason for his time
with the Malfoys. At least that's what had been
conveyed to her. Yes, she was Lily Evans when I
knew her. We grew up together before we
each got married. She was a bright muggle born
witch just like you, and she grew up as a ward to the Fawley
family that lived nearby. The last time I saw her was the
night before my wedding to Lucius.
She had just been betrothed to Mr. James Potter a week prior.
We had both been so excited to be married and start our
families, even if it meant we would be far apart from each
other. Hermione was captivated by the
witch's confession, saying nothing as Narcissa continued
her speech. When I found out she had been
killed a few years later, leaving behind a son Draco's
age, I had originally wanted to be the one to take the boy in
right then. Instead, Sirius claimed him and
began the process of naming him as his heir.
I accepted that my cousin's claim to him was stronger than
my own and believed he would be well looked after, Nasus aside.
And then he too died unexpectedly, with his plans to
name Harry his heir unfinished. You knew then that Mister Potter
would not inherit the seat. It was uncertain for some time
who would inherit. It went through the courts for
several years, and as it did, we decided not to inform Harry or
Draco. They already struggled to get
along and wouldn't want to make it worse by giving them
something else to fight over. Seeing as Mr. Malfoy's letter
had listed, their petty feud often revolved around making
everything a competition while in school, Hermione could not
imagine how something much worse than their rivalry would have
become if they'd have known about the power struggle for the
seat from the beginning. She felt sympathy for Narcissa
in the desire to protect him. It must have been difficult to
keep such a secret from them. Hermione replied.
It was, but I cannot change my actions now, and even if I
wanted to. During their first term of their
sixth year at Hogwarts, the courts ruled that Severus's
efforts to name Harry Eyre had fallen short of the threshold to
do so, and Draco inherited the seat as the closest male Black
relative by default. The outcome was determined only
a month before Lucius's death. Masasa took another deep breath.
He died before the boys came home for the winter holidays,
and I had been in such a state when they were home that I
didn't have the chance to tell them myself.
Draco realised the truth when he began the process of taking over
the estate, and Harry found out a few months later, leading to
their final confrontation between them.
That pains me to think about. Narcissa's description of events
coincided with what her son had conveyed in his letter to her
last April, clearing up Hermione's confusion.
It wasn't your fault, she consoled.
You couldn't have known how either of them would react
learning the news. I know the outcome of my actions
caused them both great pain. I was there with Draco when he
recovered in the hospital wing, so I saw first hand my son's
suffering. I still find it quite difficult
to think of Harry as capable of such a horrible act, and he has
written to me of his regret. When I think of him, I cannot
help but picture that young boy who appeared on the steps of the
Manor in his morning clothes. He was the spitting image of his
father, though I only met the gentleman on one occasion.
Except for his eyes, those belonged to his mother, a
constant reminder of the friend I lost.
I mourned her all over again the first day, and I vowed to Lily
that night that I would give her son a mother's love.
After everything, I cannot bring myself to break my promise.
Hermione thought back to her conversation with Mr. Potter and
how the reasoning for Mr. Malfoy's disdain had been
reduced to Narcissa's favouritism towards the wizard.
Knowing what she did now, it was easy to see it was an
oversimplification of the motives that had driven both of
them. Narcissa had not favoured her
ward over her son, nor had she done the opposite.
Her goal was to always do what she hoped was best for both of
them. Even now, it seemed to pain her
to think that she was failing on her promise to her friend.
Before Hermione could offer any further remarks, Necesa came to
stop in front of a large set of polished oak doors.
Here we are dear, welcome to Malfoy Manor library.
With a wave of her wand, the doors opened to reveal the room.
Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the seemingly endless
rows of bookshelves before her. The library was composed of two
floors, books filling nearly every inch of available space
along the walls. The dark wood shells contrasted
against the pale floors and colourful wool carpets scattered
throughout the room. Various sitting areas could be
found amongst the alcoves. One in particular that caught
her eye was a set of leather wing backs situated by a
fireplace. She could not help but imagine
how lovely it would be to read beside a crackling fire in the
winter months. Narcissa took her hand leading a
deeper into the depths, discussing each section and her
notable favourites as they made their way along.
They walked to the other end until Hermione saw the glass
doors she'd attempted to enter through yesterday.
A table with afternoon tea had been prepared next to one of the
windows, and the smell of the pastries and biscuits reminded
Hermione of her hunger. The witches sat together,
Nassisa pouring tea for them both as Hermione picked from the
assortment of food options available.
She hummed with contentment after trying a particularly
delicious scone with strawberry jam.
How do you take your tea, dear? Nassisa asked. 02 sugars and a
squeeze of honey if you have some, please.
Hermione recited from habit, watching the witch prepare it.
Draco likes honey and his tea too.
She remarked as she passed her a cup.
Hermione released another hum of acknowledgement before letting a
comfortable silence fall between them.
When the witches finished their tea, Narcissa encouraged her to
explore the library on her own while they waited for Mr. Malfoy
and her parents to return. Unable to think of any good
reason to not indulge in the witch's offer, Hermione scurried
into the stacks to see what treasures she could discover in
the short time she was allowed. She was devastated to find book
after book that captured her interest.
Hermione was certain the library contained enough knowledge to
entertain her for a lifetime, and all she would be awarded was
a single afternoon. Losing track of time, she had
just stumbled upon a book from one of her favorite authors on a
high shelf. Reaching up, Hermione attempted
to pull it down, only to huff at not being able to grasp it.
Her disappointment soon turned to a surprise gasp when a long,
pale hand entered her sight and pulled it down.
She followed the hand, spinning back around to find its owner
smirking at her. Holiday with hags.
He spoke, quirking your brow. If you must know, I managed to
find every one of the author's books but that one.
They contain all sorts of advice on battling dark creatures.
Hermione looked up at him. He was so close, and she could
smell the roses he walked through during his tour of the
garden. Her back was pressed against the
shelf with less than an arm's reach between them, but he
didn't step away. I wasn't aware you carried a
torch for Gilderoy Lockhart, Miss Granger.
Hermione blushed before attempting to defend herself.
I do not carry a torch for him. Reading his works does not mean
that I have taken a fancy to him, Mr. Malfoy.
Hmm, well you should know that the wizard taught at Hogwarts
for a year and may have been one of the worst professors I have
ever encountered. He turned out to be a fraud who
had been using memory charms on far more talented witches and
Wizards to steal credit for what they had done.
She looked at him in horror. But that is terrible what
happened to him after he was discovered.
The Ministry and the Hogwarts staff have attempted to keep it
from causing scandal, but apparently when he attempted to
perform a memory charm on a student, it backfired onto
himself and he lost all memory of who he was.
The wizard has been a resident assent Mungoes ever since he
held the book out to her. But if you would still like to
read his works, you may certainly have it to take with
you. I think I shall refrain.
She looked judge mentally at the golden haired author smiling at
her from the back cover. I do not find myself interested
in the advice of a con man. You are a wise witch.
His smirk returned as he waved his one to send the book back to
its home on the shelf. Shall we return to the others
for dinner, Miss Granger? She nodded and the wizard
offered her his arm before escorting her back to where her
parents and Narcissa had been waiting to depart.
Mr. Malfoy didn't release her as she expected when they joined
their parents, instead continuing through the house to
lead the party to the Conservatory where the elves had
set up a more formal table than the one in the dining room
they'd seen the day prior. The table in question was round,
and Mr. Malfoy guided her to a seat beside him while her father
took the one on the wizard's right.
Her mother sat next to her father across from her, and
Narcissa took the empty seat between her and Missus Granger.
Compared to her last dinner with Mr. Malfoy at Green Grass Grove,
this one was already off to a more promising start.
Dollop and the other house elves appeared to be eager to impress
their guests, serving course after course of delicious
delicacies. Mr. Malfoy spoke mostly to Mr.
Granger while Narcissa and Missus Granger conversed,
leaving Hermione to enjoy the food undisturbed unless she
specifically chose to interject. She did catch the wizard
watching her on several occasions, but he looked away
each time without a word. After dessert, Hermione was
quite sure she had never been so full in her life.
The sun had set and their hosts walked them to the entry hall to
escort them out. She bid goodbye to Narcissa,
somewhat sad to say her farewells.
Her farewell to Mr. Malfoy would have to wait, however, as the
wizard claimed to have business with the local apothecary owner
down the road. Mr. Malfoy, I must once again
thank you for your hospitality. We are so thankful you took time
to have us in your beautiful home.
Her father repeated for the third time that evening, though
Mr. Malfoy handled it with as much grace as the first two.
The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Granger.
Hermione had just decided to thank him herself when Madame
Rosmurta approached her. Miss Granger, you had some
letters arrive for you while you were gone.
The barmaid held out two envelopes and Hermione accepted
them both before the witch retreated back behind the
counter to attend to her patrons.
She scanned them out of habit, her joy rising when she
recognised Luna's elegant penmanship, but it faltered when
she noticed both envelopes were marked as urgent.
The first envelope was dated just yesterday, but the address
listed had been for the inn they'd been scheduled to visit
before their carriage troubles delayed them.
The second envelope had the Peacock plume listed, meaning
that her sister must have sent it soon after Hermione's owl had
been delivered to her this morning.
Forgetting her companions, she tore into the first envelope,
choosing to go in order of dates.
Her eyes scanned the short message, her anxiety rising with
every passing word. Hermione, you have been gone
only a short while, my dear sister, but I am afraid I must
be the one to inform you of the most serious and unexpected
incident. I do not wish to align you, but
I must assure you that all of us at the borough are well.
However, the same cannot be said for poor Jinny.
Just last night, an urgent hell was delivered from Mr. Diggory
to inform us that she has gone off to Scotland with an oar
assigned to protect the Quidditch World Cup.
The wizard in question was none other than Mr. Potter.
I know you more than anyone had previously held a fondness for
him, but his actions are most questionable, though I shall try
to see the best in it. Such match gains him nothing, as
our father does not have the funds to dispose on her.
So I am left in thinking that it must be for love.
Our mother is inconsolable, though our father is trying to
stay strong for all of us. Mr. Diggery's letter indicated
that we should expect them soon, seeing as Jinny left his wife a
few sentences listing their intentions before departing.
I shall write again when I know more, but I must conclude here
as I cannot be long from our mother in her current state.
Luna. Her eyes had just read the last
line when she rushed to open the 2nd letter, her impatience
growing as she forced the parchment flat.
Sister, I have received your owl from Wiltshire this afternoon
and the fact that you did not mention the contents of my last
letter has led me to believe that you have not received it.
It pains me to write these words again, but Jinny has left the
Quidditch World Cup with Mr. Potter.
We had expected them to return from an elopement in Scotland
today, but instead it was Mr. Diggory who appeared on our
doorstep. From what we had learned, it is
uncertain if Mr. Potter ever intended to marry Jinny.
When they left they were tracked headed towards W London instead
of the north of Scotland, so it is highly unlikely the marriage
has taken place. Mr. Diggory checked every inn
between Norwich and London, and when they could not be found he
continued on until he reached Ottery St.
Catchpole. He seems most distressed and I
cannot say or harbour any blame for the matter on him or Missus
Diggree, seeing as Jinny did much to deceive him and his
wife. Our parents also fear the worst,
and seeing as Jinny's hand on the clock has changed to lost,
our mother has seemed to lose all hope for her recovery.
She is now bedridden and barely eating.
Worse still, there are rumours that Mister Potter shall be
placed on the Undesirable list after abandoning his post
without notice. Mr. Diggery and our father both
set off to London to continue the search with the help of our
cousins. I must beg you to return as soon
as possible, Hermione, for I am not sure how I can cope with
this news without you, Luna. The world around her spun, the
candlelight seeming to sway until she felt her legs give
out. She was falling, unable to hold
herself upright as everything tumbled around her.
Hermione was vaguely aware her cheeks were wet, her tears
beginning to fall at some point after opening Luna's second
letter. Before she could crumble to the
ground, a strong set of hands wrapped around her, holding her
close. Hermione instinctively reached
out, clutching at the collar of her saviour.
Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy's voice broke through
her trance, but she squeezed her eyes further shut.
Hermione, darling, Oh, she seems to have fainted, Hermione heard
her mother say. Thank goodness you caught her,
Mr. Malfoy. What could have caused it?
Mr. Granger asked. She was reading her letters.
They must have contained some terrible news to put her in such
a state. Mr. Malfoy answered, his voice
coloured in concern. Then I must read them, though I
feel awful for doing so. Her father insisted.
She realised she was no longer holding Luna's letters and heard
the shuffling of parchment as Mr. Granger read the word she
could not yet face. This is grave indeed, and not a
matter we should discuss so publicly.
He finally said. We should take her upstairs
then, so we may discuss it further.
Her mother's voice was soft, and Hermione felt herself wishing
for a few more moments of peace. She heard her parents and the
wizard exchange a few more words, none of which she could
make out, and then she felt herself lifted from the ground.
The hands that held her felt like her only true connection to
this frightening new reality, and when they deposited her on
the chaise shortly after, she jolted up.
In their absence, Hermione was met with Mr. Malfoy's silver
eyes and furrowed brow leaning over her.
Is distress apparent, Richard? Missus Granger called out,
coming over with a damp cloth and immediately placing it upon
her forehead. She is awake.
Hearing the sound of her father's approaching footsteps,
she sat up, using the cloth to cool her neck as she acclimated
to the room around her. It appeared Mr. Malfoy had been
the one to carry her back up to the sitting area that connected
Hermione to her parents bedrooms at the inn.
She would have felt embarrassed at her current state if she
could feel any emotion other than dread.
I have to go home. She insisted to the Grangers
when she found the nerve to speak, her guilt gnawing at her.
I'm sorry, I don't mean to disappoint you both.
I know how excited you were for us to take this trip together,
but I am needed at the borough. We could never be disappointed
in you, darling. Her mother consoled.
We will get you back to the Weasleys as soon as we can.
This is all my fault. Hermione sobbed.
If I had warned her, if I had been more open with my sisters,
Ginny might have known better than to put her trust in such a
wizard. No, Mr. Malfoy spoke for the
first time since entering the space.
The blame cannot be placed on you, Miss Granger.
I should have exposed Mr. Potter's reckless nature when I
had the chance. What is being done to recover
her? My, my father has gone to London
and intends to search for him with the help of my cousins, but
I know nothing more can be done. I wish to help you, Miss
Granger. The desperation in his voice
brought on another SOB. Sir, I'm certain it is too late.
It pained her greatly to say the words.
Let me at least acquire you a port key.
The wizard implored her. I can have it to you in an hour
and you can be delivered home before midnight.
She shook her head to refuse, but Mr. Granger cut in.
Hermione, I must encourage you to accept Mr. Malfoy's offer.
It will be another two days before we can deliver you
ourselves. If you return with the port key
tonight, your mother and I could depart from here in the morning
and head straight to London. From there, I could inquire with
my friends if Mr. Potter may be hiding out in the Muggle part of
town. Her mother nodded along with her
husband's speech, and Hermione could see she was outnumbered.
She weighed her options, seeing quickly how Mr. Malfoy's offer
was likely her best course of action, even if she had still
some apprehension about accepting it.
Very well, but I must find a way to repay your kindness, Mr.
Malfoy. She conceded, not possessing the
energy to fight him on the matter further.
Knowing you are home safe with your family will be payment
enough, Miss Granger. The gentleman said as he offered
them a bow. I wish you well.
He departed and Missus Granger immediately entered Hermione's
bedroom to begin collecting her things.
She joined her in a daze, throwing things in her bag
without much care until her last of her possessions had been
removed from the room. She returned to the sitting
room, her mother waiting beside her with their hands
intertwined. Mr. Granger had gone to inform
the servants of the change in the family's plan and had
arrived back only a short time before the hour was up.
Just as the time ran out, the crack of an elf apparition broke
the silence that had descended. Dollop has Miss Granger's port
key. The elf said holding out a small
handkerchief. 5 minutes Miss and it will take you home.
I thank you Dollop. Please thank Mr. Malfoy for me
when you return home. Dollop wishes to pass on your
thanks Miss, but the master has already departed the Manor with
a port key of his own. Oh, she said and she ought to
make of that fact. Dollop hopes you will come back
to Malfoy Manor again, Miss Granger.
Master Draco and Mistress Narcissa greatly enjoyed your
time with them. I, I would like that too,
Dollop. Hermione admitted, even if it
was unlikely. The answer seemed to satisfy the
elf who gave them a final bow before disappearing in another
crack. Hermione hugged both of her
parents and promised to write them if she learned anything
more. When the Golden Snitch began to
admit a soft blue glow, she reached out to touch it, feeling
an unpleasant sensation behind her navel as she was transported
away from Wiltshire and into the darkness.