Login
MuggleNet Fan Fiction
Harry Potter stories written by fans!

Calliope and Thalia and Their Inspiration by lucilla_pauie

[ - ]   Printer Chapter or Story Table of Contents

- Text Size +
~Fund Fiasco~






Lucius Malfoy was made to settle reparation to Ginny Weasley, Dennis Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas and Garrick Ollivander and Madam Rosmerta, Katie Bell and Ron Weasley. The exact figures are not disclosed but the photos punctuating the news article shows The Three Broomsticks being refurbished inside and out, and Ollivander’s, no longer looking ancient and derelict, but ancient and elegant, rivalling those tiny designer boutiques her mother likes to visit once on her birthday and once on Christmas to feel like ‘a proper worldly woman’.

Hermione frowns. The Wizengamot had sent her, Harry and Ron a copy of the writ, and all three of them had refused the reparation clause addressed to them. Well, Ron seems to have neglected to make his letter absolutely clear, because his name is still there in the article. On her part, Hermione had withdrawn the charges levelled against Lucius Malfoy in her name: that of being made victim to the Basilisk in 1993, being fatally injured in the Department of Mysteries in 1996, and being held and subjected to the Cruciatus Curse in Malfoy Manor March last year.

She scoffs at that. Yes, she could have died from Lucius’s self-serving attempt to rid himself of Voldemort relics, but the other charges? Bellatrix Lestrange is dead, and Antonin Dolohov is nothing more than a gibbering shell after duelling with Professor Flitwick, and so it fell to the Malfoys to make reparations? It was a little preposterous, even if the Malfoys themselves were looking for any excuse to throw their money around. Ron’s injuries at the Department of Mysteries and Malfoy Manor aren’t mentioned, but he’s supposed to be compensated for having been poisoned, however inadvertently, by Draco Malfoy. As if money can restore the decades cut from his mother’s lifespan that horrific day. And as if money as compensation for that time Colin had been Petrified can be any comfort to the Creeveys. Dennis has skipped school this year. His family is still coming to terms with losing Colin and his mother isn’t too keen to let Dennis come right back to the very place where her firstborn had died.

Hermione closes the Daily Prophet and ends up crumpling it onto her lap. She hates ruining the paper before she’s read it back to front and back, but she is so astonished at the... thing in front of her. A flower arrangement attempting to reach the Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling. That’s an exaggeration, of course, but she can barely see the person opposite her on the Gryffindor table, and as the person opposite her is Hagrid who’d sat down and borrowed a section of her Daily Prophet, that’s saying something.

Hermione makes to move the stumpy vase aside and as soon as she touches it, one of the dewy silver roses disengages itself from its fellows in the bouquet and flutters down in loops to Hermione like a butterfly drunk on nectar.

–To Miss Hermione Granger,

With our appreciation.

The House of Slytherin.”


As soon as she finishes reading it, the card becomes a silver rose once more, plump and heavy and delicate in her hand. It has no scent. She stares at it, and then glances up at the staff table. Professor Slughorn has lifted his monocle and is squinting through it at the strange addition to the Gryffindor table. Not from him, then.

–You got yourself a beau, Hermione? What’ll Ron say?”

Hermione leans to the side to see Hagrid and chuckles right along with him. –He’ll say, ‘Budge it--I can’t reach for the sausages.’ ”

Everyone in the Great Hall is now looking at the Gryffindor bouquet. In the Slytherin table, however, only one person has taken notice. But when Draco catches her eye, he goes back to fiddling with his breakfast. In the light of day, it’s hard to believe that last night, Draco Malfoy had hugged her--held her like she used to imagine being held by her Knight Valiant or Prince Charming.

As he is neither valiant nor charming-- at least, not consistently enough--she is exasperated with herself when she feels her face going warm. Thank Merlin for the ridiculously tall bouquet. She hides behind it.





–I want a copy of this, and this one, and oh, this.”

Fred and George, as themselves, were back at Champs du Rose. Narcissa sat between them in the sofa, flipping through photographs and laughing so heartily Fred and George felt like they were in an alternate reality in which Malfoys were regularly seen throwing back their heads and slapping their hands against Weasleys in their unabashed mirth. Fred and George squirmed where they sat in the cloud of her perfume but couldn’t help grinning. Few things were as good as being able to gloat about mischief.

–Those are copies, Mrs M, you can take them all,” said Fred.

–Thank you.”

–Mrs M?” said Lucius, swivelling to face them where he stood by the tall windows.

–Don’t you want to see these, Mr M?” Narcissa chuckled.

–I’ll see them tomorrow, won’t I? I’ve subscribed to the Daily Prophet again. I imagine the circulation office all agog over that even now.”

Despite that, Lucius Malfoy strode over, unceremoniously plucked Fred from the sofa, and took his place beside Narcissa. He scooped the photos from her lap and transferred them to his.

They all watched him in silence, and he gratified their observation by lifting a horrified face when he came upon a certain photograph.

–Tell me this isn’t included among the ones to be published,” he said haughtily, and a tad threateningly. –This is humiliating.”

–No, it’s not,” said Narcissa, surprising Fred and George. –That’s not you. That’s Draco.” Ignoring Lucius’s glare, she turned to them. –Boys, you really must sell me your camera. Or make me one. Astonishing how you captured Draco’s face from so far away, look.”

They looked. Draco’s rather gormless expression was sparklingly clear between all that skin-toned padding. Yes, it was good photography. Perhaps they could talk with Dean about mass producing the box camera with the modern and magically modified lenses. Hmm.





The castle was still relatively empty when they arrived. Students wouldn’t start coming back until tomorrow evening at the earliest. As teachers’ children, perhaps they should accustom themselves to this unexpected privilege of having Hogwarts to themselves. As soon as the carriage stopped, Callie jumped out, Lia followed, and they had a merry time punching the untouched snowdrifts with their boots.

They dropped to the ground to make snow angels just in time to see their father helping their mother off the carriage.

And then the twins’ legs and arms froze when they saw how their mother barely acknowledged their father and then marched away without another word, chin tilted in a cold queenishness they hadn’t seen before, not in Hogwarts and certainly not in Belize, even when she was most irritated with their dad.

–Whatever in Morgana’s name’s the matter now?” said Lia.

Callie moaned wordlessly beside her.





Well, it had all been going too well for too long. He hadn’t expected the gods to keep him in paradise but still, this return of his personal hell was insanely fast. He and Hermione hadn’t even crossed the threshold of Hogwarts. What had bitten her in the arse now?

Draco had been planning to persuade his girls to spend the last couple days of the holidays at the cottage. She and Hermione were teachers, yes, but there wasn’t anything for them to do at Hogwarts other than be there and perhaps plan lessons. Of course, nothing beat cuddling in a drafty old castle, and Draco had been looking forward to that.

It looked as if his luck hadn’t held, though. As soon as the Portkey delivered them at the cottage, Hermione traipsed right back out, the girls following their mother like ducklings trailing a duck. As far as Draco knew, he hadn’t done anything since, and neither had Hermione. She’d been pleasant and rather glorious, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. They all had lunch at Chez Belinda, and this time, it was Hermione who stole Belinda’s Daily Prophet, and then they were on a carriage back to Hogwarts.

That was it. Hermione had disappeared behind the newspaper and then, as if she’d donned a mask behind the paper, emerged as a phantom memory that would always haunt Draco still. For a moment, he saw her with her waist far, far thicker than it was now, with that exact same stony expression on her face, like she could kill him and not even care about it.

Her boots made an angry noise on the flagstones as she marched inside the castle. His legs were longer but he struggled following her. –What now? What’s gotten into you?”

She ignored him.

Years and years of raising Callie with his father, mother and Pansy had honed his patience and thickened his hide, but whatever defence and detachment he had erected crumbled under the onslaught of fear, and the fury triggered by that fear. He didn’t want to lose Hermione again when he didn’t even have her yet, not for certain, and she should get off her high horse and stop being so bloody stubborn.

–Don’t recreate what happened twelve years ago, you insufferable cow,” he said through clenched teeth. –This is the very thing that landed us in this whole mess in the first place: you going off in righteous high dudgeon without talking to me.”

They were halfway up the grand staircase. She was several steps ahead. She paused mid-step and wobbled for a second. Draco reached out to steady her. She sensed that movement and recoiled the minutest bit that he wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t been staring at her. She didn’t turn to him. After several moments, and without replying, she continued up the stairs, up, up and farther and farther away. He let her. He wasn’t about to go running after her when she insisted on treating him like this, like a... a stupid dog that had misbehaved and had to be locked out of doors as punishment. Dogs never knew what they were supposed to have done either.

Draco expelled an irritated sigh and pivoted to go back down and maybe look for the damned paper.

–Oi! Where are you going?” a portrait called out. Draco ignored it. –Idiot! You should come after her! Maybe you’re in this mess because she went off in a high dudgeon without talking to you, and you didn’t come after her and talk to her either.”

It was Draco’s turn to come to a halt on the stairs. He took several deep breaths.

–Er, you have a point.” The moustachioed man in the portrait looked taken aback. And then nodded sagely and smugly. Draco continued, –But do you know that woman? If I go after her now, at best, I’ll freeze trying and failing to get her to respond to my knocks on her door. She’ll have barricaded it so tight not even Merlin would be able to force his way in. At worst, she’ll hex my balls off.”

Mustachio-man bristled at the reference to balls. –You shall talk to her later. And not in your high-handed manner, you arrogant cur.”

–Cur?” Draco laughed. –You can shut up now. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

–They always tell us to shut up, these impertinent ingrates.”





Sometimes Hermione wondered if it was true that the gods frowned upon too-happy people, and she wondered what she’d have to do so that whatever it was the gods used to spy on everyone was irreparably pulverized.

–Whoa! Easy. What have I done? If you use that glare in the courtrooms, that’s unfair. Anyone would confess to anything.”

–Harry? Harry.” Hermione sighed and stepped into Harry’s open arms.

–Had a nice Christmas?” he asked, kissing her hair.

–It ended.”

Harry chuckled. –Must look at the doughnut, Hermione, not at the hole. What happened?”

Hermione sighed again. –There are times I regret I made friends with you, Harry Potter.”

Harry laughed outright this time. –I know. It has its downsides, doesn’t it?”

She looked up at him fondly. –And then there are times like now when I love you to pieces. You know exactly what happened, but you don’t bring it up yourself.”

–Well, between you and Ron and Ginny, even a troll would learn to be tactful.”

Hermione laughed softly against Harry’s chest, squeezed him one last time, and let go. –So what are you doing here?”

He looked her up and down as if to check for injuries. His eyes paused for a millisecond on the Daily Prophet peeking out of her un-Shrunk satchel but he made no comment. –No thanks for the hug?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. –Thanks for the hug.”

–Minerva wanted to visit with me, that’s all. It’s been a long while since she last saw me. You’re not her only favourite.”

–How’s Ginny?”

–Just about bearable now that we’re close to term. How are your girls?”

–Just about perfect.”

–Will I be that love-struck when I become a parent?”

Completely distracted from her snit now, Hermione smiled. –Maybe not, because you’ll keep your kids close, won’t you? You’ll be the harassed dad, snappish, bald by the time you’re forty.”

–Bite your tongue.” He glared, and then gave her another hug. –When you want to talk, or when you want me to go after somebody, you know I can use my clout for nefarious purposes from time to time.”

–What a doughnut you are.”





Draco ended up going back to his cottage. Lia and Callie, still playing in the school grounds with their kitten snug in Callie’s muff, looked like they wanted to ask questions, so he waved at them, imprisoned them in a cage made of snow, and drove the carriage out the gates, sniggering at the sound of their outraged shrieks.

He had anticipated having his girls in that cottage so much that the tiny place looked somehow vast and empty.

Throwing Floo powder into the blazing fireplace, he called, –Pansy and Patrick’s Place,” and stepped out onto Pansy’s drawing room. They really had to name their house soon. The alliteration was getting old. Pansy was in the patio, feeding her daughter something odious-looking, and from the look on Theca’s face, the toddler shared Draco’s opinion.

–Draco!” Pansy put down the bowl of yellow-orange gloop and Thea promptly pushed it over the edge of her high chair. –What a pleasant surprise! How was your Yule?”

Draco picked up a relieved and smugly giggling Thea and blinked at Pansy, who looked too tan to have spent her Yule in Europe. And she was too perky. She tended to relay bad news when she was too perky.

Delaying it a little, Draco said, –How was yours? Where were you?”

–Belize.”

–Belize?”

Pansy glared at him. –Yes, Belize. At the Casa Ursula, in fact. You never do read my letters, do you? We’ve been there all December and if Patrick hadn’t been called down today, we would still have been there. I left my Yule gifts for you and the girls with your parents, but I should have left you out, you nasty little--”

–You were in the plantation house?”

–Why are you repeating me?”

–I dropped in one night and saw an old man and woman dancing in the sala.”

–Oh, Patrick’s grandparents. The ones who were trapped by a typhoon in Singapore and didn’t make it to our wedding. This time, they were on a holiday in Mexico so we had a little meet-and-greet. But what do you mean you dropped in? Were you in Belize? Did you enter the house without letting yourself known? Did you--”

–It’s my house. And it’s a long story. And now I’ve seen and snuggled who I wanted to see and snuggle so I’ll be on my way.”

Pansy glared again, but smiled when Draco kissed Thea as he put the child back in her high chair. –I’ll just have to hear it all from your mother, shall I?”

–Do that.” Draco sighed. Pansy bit her lips. Right, the bad tidings. –You don’t happen to have the Daily Prophet around, do you?”

Pansy winced and nodded in sympathy. –Thea had gotten to it, sorry. And you know the Daily Prophet put that blasted charm on their paper so you’d have to buy another if someone destroyed it. Reparo doesn’t work.”

It was late in the day, so it took some doing before he found that morning’s Daily Prophet after getting back to Hogsmeade. You could usually find several lying around at the pubs, but Draco had bluffed when he’d invited Hermione to the Three Broomsticks (Was that only a couple months ago?). He was banned for a lifetime there and in The Hog’s Head. In the end, he ‘found’ a copy in the cloak room of Chez Belinda. He was getting really fond of the place.

The thing that had Hermione possessed with the stabbity spirit wasn’t anywhere in the front page, but was tucked in the ‘Ministry’ section where they kept track of what the Minister ate for dinner, where the various departments and offices posted open positions, where complaints and criticisms of ineptitude were published, and where, to the delight of most everyone and especially those who liked a laugh while drinking their morning tea, the Prophet ‘reserves the right to publish insider tips without implying or confirming their veracity.’

A lot of back-stabbing, courting, friendly ribbing, gossip-mongering and propaganda of all colours went on via these tips, dubbed as ‘leaky businesses’. No one really took anything in that section seriously, however cut-and-dry the articles sounded. That morning’s leaky business, however, was not even in the same neighbourhood as funny.

Leaky Business: Hermione Granger Fund

Gringotts will never confirm nor refute this, and of course, beneficiaries, if any, are bound by Wizarding agreement to silence. The Hermione Granger Fund is presumably in place for the purpose of helping Muggleborns from the moment they receive their Hogwarts letters, hence its name. Anonymous sources had further disclosed that the notorious mass detainment of Ministry workers and visitors in late August last had been connected to the discovery of the Fund, and that it was the reason Miss Granger resigned from her eminent position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Fund is further said to be worth twelve hundred thousand galleons.


–Fuck.”

If Belinda hadn’t come running, Draco wouldn’t have realised he’d shouted that.

–M’seur Malfoy! What’s-- Why are you in the cloak room?”

Draco allowed himself to be hustled to the dining room and to one of the more private tables. He paged through the Prophet until he saw what he was dreading. Skeeter’s column. No one saw or heard him pound the table with his fist, but Belinda came running again, probably in fear of her furniture.

–M’seur Malfoy, what can I do to help?” she said despairingly.

Draco took a deep breath. –Ink, quill and parchment, please, Belinda. And a fast, mean owl, thank you.”





It could set up for life five hundred Muggleborns. Is it the alimony? A settlement in exchange for giving up one twin? It is very altruistic of Miss Granger.

Some thoughtful house-elf had arranged a vase of hothouse flowers for Hermione. She wasn’t seeing the thoughtfulness at the moment, but a jar with a fat beetle inside. The vase shattered. Long-stemmed orchids toppled and flopped onto her desk. Blinking away tears and taking deep breaths, Hermione repaired the vase and deposited the flowers back inside it.

–Mum, let’s have a bath together, shall we?”

Hermione jumped. She’d been so busy imagining squashing Rita Skeeter she hadn’t heard Lia and Callie arrive. There they both were, red-nosed and pulling at each others’ mittens. The kitten yowled and went straight for the fireplace.

–A bath?” Hermione managed to sound casual, as if she hadn’t been contemplating multiple murders, one of those murders being that of her girls’ father. –Yes, you need one. Come on.”

–Callie hasn’t taken a bath with us before.”

Forget murder. Mutilation, it was. Before she could think of a reply, Lia went on. –Let’s go to Dad’s rooms.”

They dragged her out and downstairs before she could protest. Draco wasn’t anywhere in his lodgings, however.

–It’s okay,” said Lia. –A student can take a bath with a professor, right?”

The girls laughed at how ludicrous that sounded while Hermione, distracted again, tried to imagine taking a bath with Minerva. Tried and failed.

–I see you’ve invaded my turf.”

Hermione stiffened, but with the girls this close and avidly watching, she found she couldn’t snub Draco. She also found her internal organs behaving oddly, and not in the churning that stemmed from a murderous rage. Damn him. –The girls want to take a bath with me.”

Draco, who wasn’t looking at Hermione, sniggered. –How long did it take you to break out of your cage? Look at you. Scoot before you catch something.”

–What cage?” Hermione asked.

–Mum, come on! We can’t feel our toes!”

Hermione made the hot water froth and bubble. She revelled in scrubbing her girls’ backs and having two sets of hands scrub hers. And then she turned the little towels into terry towelling boats that sailed impassively around them as they soaked. Well, she soaked. Lia and Callie were cataloguing each other’s freckles and spots, making their mother giggle despite of her supposedly murderous rage whenever one of them expressed outrage at having or not having a certain freckle or spot in a certain place.

It seemed she wasn’t allowed to wallow in her anger these days. Not with her girls around. And maybe--it was the tiniest iota possible--Draco did not have anything to do with the Fund at all, however much Skeeter speculated.

In a vastly improved, and even a little sheepish mood, she emerged from her bath with the girls and amused herself further by thoroughly discombobulating Draco by being pleasant at dinner.

–Girls, I want to tell you something,” said Hermione while they all glutted on strawberries and chocolate fondue. Only when Callie and Lia had finished dipping and looked up did Hermione continue. –Your father and I, admittedly on less than sound minds, decided to stay apart, and branching from that decision, we had the two of you split between us. No money was involved. None.”

Draco had frozen in dipping his strawberry in the pot. Callie nudged his hand away and stole his strawberry. Lia took a spoon and began to eat the chocolate like it was soup. –Is that what was in the Prophet and why you were so brassed off earlier?” she asked in between spoonfuls.

–Well--”

–Don’t be affected by rubbish, Mum,” was Callie’s sage advice.

–But Uncle Harry told us you two still have to work that out.” Lia slurped chocolate. –You have a history of rubbish.”

–He said that?”

Over their heads, Hermione met Draco’s gaze. He rolled his eyes at her. And then Vanished Lia’s spoon and handed her a strawberry instead. When Lia made to dip it, Draco blocked her. –It’ll be coated once it reaches your stomach.”

Afterward, Hermione declared that they were back at Hogwarts and should follow Hogwarts’ sleeping arrangements. The girls didn’t balk at having to split for their respective dorms but did embrace each other as if they were about to part for a decade again rather than ten hours.

At the door, after seeing the girls trot off in separate directions, Draco caught Hermione’s hand. –Care to talk yet about what happened this morning?”

When she didn’t pull away, he pulled her back inside his room.

He held up a bottle of wine. She shook her head. He poured himself a goblet and perched on the sofa arm opposite the one Hermione leaned against. She was sitting sideways with one arm on the sofa back and one leg stretched out on the end of the cushions. It was an open, relaxed pose. She felt open and relaxed. She’d forgotten why she’d been so furious that morning. So now people knew about the fund, if they believed the Leaky Business. So what? Gringotts was impenetrable in its policies. No one could or would abuse the Fund. And so what if it was named after her? And so what if small-minded people like Skeeter assumed she’d sold one of her children, even for such an ‘altruistic’ cause? It wasn’t true. Even if Draco indeed financed that Fund, she hadn’t sold Callie to him. Of all preposterous things.

Suddenly, she was leaping up from the sofa. –Oh gods, my mum would employ ‘flay first-ask questions later’ when she sees that article.”

Draco picked himself up from where he’d toppled to the floor when Hermione removed the counterweight on the sofa. He cleaned up the spilt wine. –Muggles still flay, really?”

She gave him a look.

–And your parents have a subscription to the Daily Prophet?”

–Of course. After I erased and then restored their memories, they swore they wouldn’t be left out of the loop again. They’re even subscribed to Quidditch Quarterly. That’s how obsessed they’ve become. I suppose I should be thankful Skeeter’s just as clueless as my mum.”

–What did you tell them?”

–What did you tell your parents?”

–That you hated me and didn’t want to see me again, so much that you even gave me one of our children just so I’d stay away.”

Almost unconsciously, Hermione stole the wine Draco had just freshly poured into his goblet moments before. She sat back down on the sofa, this time curling both legs to her chest and hugging them.

–One day, we’ll have to talk about that, Hermione.” Draco was now the one sitting sideways, framing her with his arm and leg.

–Yes, well, not yet. I--” Was so incredibly rash and stupid and you better not open an old wound, Malfoy. –So. That Hermione Granger Fund. You don’t have that kind of money, do you?”

–Not on hand, no.”

Hermione glared at him.

–Not anywhere else, for that matter. But extant monies and passive income put all together, and speculating on my prospective inheritances, I daresay--”

–Draco Malfoy. You did not.”

–No, of course not. My father did.”

Once again, wine spilled. Hermione didn’t even realise her hand had grown slack around the goblet, as had her jaw.

–He wanted to name it after Callie, but as Callie is a half-blood, the name didn’t match. There you go.” Draco reached with the arm he had slung over the back of the sofa and nudged her mouth closed. He didn’t remove his hand, only moved it to cup her cheek. –We could have the name changed. We could also have my father flayed by your mother, if you like. I’d definitely like it. I knew that Fund was going to be trouble. I’ve written to Skeeter and told her to publish an apology for making such disgusting conjectures. Your mum will read that and won’t flay you. She’s your mum. I doubt she-- or anyone else-- would believe you gave me one of our children in exchange for money.”

She found herself nodding and sighing, and to stop being such a ninny, she turned her head to remove herself from his touch for a bit, on the pretence of sipping from the goblet, only to discover it missing from her hand. Draco exhaled a laugh and pulled her by the hair--gently-- into his arms.

–I missed this all day,” he murmured.

Me, too. Hermione inhaled his scent. –Get used to missing it. You won’t be pulling me by the hair-- or by any appendage, for that matter-- anywhere, starting tomorrow.”

–So I can still do a number of pullings tonight?”

–No!”

Draco did his silent chuckle again.

–Why were you so angry? Not at the thought of your mum, right? That was a sudden scare, not a stewed irritation.”

Hermione seriously thought about it while she burrowed her nose into the fabric of his shirt. The answer she came up with made her ashamed.

Draco moved his hands to her shoulders and held her away a little so they could lock gazes. –Hermione, we have one mystery as big as Hagrid and as old as our twins between us. We shouldn’t make that mystery jealous by having more. From now on, when you’re angry, tell me why, won’t you? Please?”

Well, since he asked so nicely... –I was angry with Skeeter, not you. And then I realised I was so angry with her because she made sense and why didn’t I think of it before she did? If it was you-- and who else could it be-- I thought you put this Fund in place as a security against the possibility of me trying to take Callie from you, that you’d throw it in my face and show the world I’d sold my daughter--”

–What?”

–I know. My brain isn’t working right when it concerns you.”

Draco pulled away and crossed his arms. –That blasted agreement wouldn’t have allowed you to take Callie from me.”

Hermione nodded with a grimace of self-recrimination.

–And do you really think me so rotten?” Before she could answer, he said, –That was a stupid question. I forgot we wouldn’t be here in the first place if you didn’t.”

His tone was bitter. Suddenly, Hermione was even more furious than she’d been that morning. He had no right.

She was at the door and had wandlessly righted and cleaned the goblet and spilled wine without even being wholly aware of it.

–Actually, I didn’t, Draco. We wouldn’t have the twins if I did, would we? I wasn’t some hormonal teenager that-- If I thought you rotten, I wouldn’t have let you touch me, let alone-- If I did think you rotten-- and I admit I did, later on-- that was because you made me.”




He spends Hogsmeade weekends toughening his hide. He has grown up being noticed, and while there might have been sneering behind that notice, it has never been blatantly made to his face before. Unlike now. Honeydukes was the friendliest place. The owners look at what he’s bought, touch his money, and even give him change.

The Kilmartins decide to open the ground floor of their cottage to the dispossessed Slytherins. Scrivenshaft had done the same, but stopped the hospitality when the rest of Hogwarts ceased making his shop bell ring. Quills and parchment and their quality don’t keep. Not without employing illegal mercantile spells. The Kilmartins, on the other hand, has nothing to lose and everything to gain. Their weekends-- at least those when Hogwarts turned its students loose upon the village-- is suddenly no longer empty.

Not to mention the glee of having their collection of knick knacks being in display. Slytherins are jaded to curios, but they like knowing what things are. One prolonged glance is all it takes to set off one of the Kilmartins on an oration.

Ria makes the mistake of stopping dead at the new display of portraits of cat eyes (just eyes, different colours, different shapes, and different levels of ogling) and Mrs Kilmartin pounced on her. Draco sniggers under his breath, and chokes on it when the door opens and Granger is framed in the golden spring afternoon outside.

She looks around, shows remarkable indifference to the cat eyes and Slytherin eyes all trained on her, and squares her shoulders. –I’m sorry. I saw the Greengrasses and followed them. I wondered if there was a new shop. I’ve never been on this street before.”

From any other person, that would have sounded like an ill-conceived lie. From Granger, it’s simply ridiculously honest. Daphne or Pansy would have just turned up her nose, found a seat and ordered tea. Not Granger. There she stands blushing and fidgeting despite her set shoulders and chin, probably cursing herself for her too frank outburst or debating how cowardly it would look to turn around and get out.

–You followed us all this way, you might as well sit down, Granger,” says Daphne, indicating the remaining chair on the table she and Ria have taken.

Mrs Kilmartin eyes her red and gold scarf, but pours Granger a cup of tea and added another cake tray on the table without comment aside from a tremulous, –Welcome, Miss Granger.”

–You’re of age,” says Ria. –Why aren’t you in London like all the rest of them?”

At this, Granger catches Draco’s eye. They were the only two people of age in the room. –I have nothing to do in London. Why would I go there? Harry and Ron are in Auror-training and my parents are still in Australia. Erm, is this a Slytherin establishment and am I intruding? Because I can leave.”

–Why? Are you about to erupt in hives?” says Ria, surprising Draco by punctuating that with her saucy grin. Granger also surprises him by scratching the back of her neck.

–A bit.”

It isn’t just the Greengrasses who chuckles. Draco, with effort, takes his eyes off Granger and grins at a pair of brown cat eyes.

–This isn’t a Slytherin establishment. But all the rest of the establishments are rather decidedly non-Slytherin, so here we are.”

Granger loses her smile at Daphne’s answer.

–What do you mean?”

–I mean that the world is full of hypocrites who think it was wrong of us to have saved our skins during the war,” says Daphne pleasantly, drizzling raspberry sauce on her scone. –Wrong of us to not have supported a boy our own age against a powerful wizard we have grown up fearing. Really. If we weren’t willing to rush headlong into injury and death, is that so wrong? If one of our number wanted to give up Potter because we thought it would be easier and painless that way, were we evil?”

Granger’s answer is quick and lethal. –No, you weren’t. So why do you hole up here?”

What little conversation that has begun again stopped again. Mrs Kilmartin drops the kettle she was just lifting from the stove.

Imitating Daphne’s earlier airiness, Granger continued, –The Slytherins in their own little exclusive circle in their own little tea room. Just because the other shop owners are leery of you or snubbing you. Of course they would. One of you Imperiused one of them. The Death Eaters terrorized this village and the Death Eaters were Slytherins. They’re entitled to giving you a little grief. I’m not saying it’s fair. But let them. If you do, and ignore it, it will get old. It will pass. And before you say this is easy for me to say, remember, I’ve had my own share of shunning. I was a new arrival, so to speak, while those of your blood have been in our community for centuries. I understand why you’d think those of my kind are interlopers. I let you shun and insult and belittle away, didn’t I? But I certainly didn’t hide from you. And look at you now, having tea with me. Ma’am, I’ve never had scones like this before.”

Mrs Kilmartin is electrified and became effusive. Even more effusive than usual. And while she gabs away to Granger, the Slytherins drank their tea and the lecture they’ve just been served.

Of course, Ria can always be counted upon. As if nothing has happened, she says, –Where did you put that bouquet, then? Is it ashes in the Gryffindor grate now?”

Granger smiles again. –It’s in the common room. You can come see it if you don’t believe me.”

–Are you mad?” The whole room laughs. –Throw it away!” The whole room laughs louder. –No, I’m serious. You don’t let those flowers stay in a room overnight.”

–Why not? I mean, aside from them being in the way,” Granger asks.

–You wouldn’t know, would you, Mud-Granger? Those are dodgy things. You never know what’s been put in them.”

–Well, thank you for the warning. I’ll throw them away.”

–Make certain you do. It’s from Blaise, by the way, not us.”

Granger catches Draco’s eye again. Very subtly, he nods. She nods back.

None of them places orders for things they needed to the Kilmartins that day. The next Hogsmeade weekend, Draco accompanies Ria and Daphne to Gambol and Japes. The proprietor doesn’t ignore them, but registers their purchases and recommends another product while giving them change. At Gladrags, the madam, though not at all garrulous as she usually is, makes sure the robes Ria bought were adjusted perfectly at the hem and sleeves.

It’s rather disappointing, seeing as they’ve braced themselves for being given grief. The rest of the Slytherins seem to have encountered the same better, if grudging, treatment. Those who have dared enter The Three Broomsticks didn’t find sand in their drinks and food.

They all wonder if Granger’s clout is that immense that they need only be seen emerging from the Kilmartins’ with her to lose the scarlet letters on their foreheads.

A week later, they discover something else.

They are at breakfast. Mail has just arrived. Daphne, reading the paper, made a soft noise the Slytherins all heard. There’s a flurry as everyone opens their own copies. The Daily Prophet has got wind of something Hogwarts and Hogsmeade have kept secret for almost a month. Harry Potter and his two closest friends have jointly insisted to have Severus Snape’s portrait installed in the headmaster’s office.

–That explains it, then,” says Daphne. –Everyone must think our former Head of House must have done something good.”

–Will it never stop?” says Ria.

–What?”

–Being indebted to Gryffindors. I was in the library last night. A pack of them invited me to sit with them.”

–Did you?” says Blaise, his sneer audible.

–I did,” says Ria, with a tilt of her chin. –Some of us aren’t arrogant elitists. And I let them help me with my Transfiguration homework.”

Draco notices Blaise’s dark look and barely stifles the urge to glare at him. Or thump him. Instead, Draco turns to Ria and smirks ruefully. –I have a feeling it’s only just begun.”
Chapter Endnotes: I won’t say anything any more for fear of Mel's minions if I don't make my weekly deadline again. But I’m back on a roll with this story. Woot! Thanks to you readers and reviewers who poke me. Only, next time, please also leave some encouraging pats (real comments, you know) along with the poking.

The first three quarters of this chapter sat for weeks and weeks— poor Slytherins; the remaining quarter got written in three hours. Hermione and Slytherins just mix like vanilla ice cream and chocolate fudge. I just regret it that Ria and Daphne aren’t in the future. It’s Pansy who’s there instead. Hmpf. Let’s just say the Greengrass sisters have glamorous lives in the continent after marrying margraves, shall we? And a reunion just might still happen anyway! Sometimes these surprising people just trip up writers though, grr.

HPFacts #237: Harry fought to have Snape’s portrait in the Head’s office.