Reliving the Past

It had been years, so many years, since she had been to this place. So many years to try to forget the screams, to try to stop the nightmares, to let the scars fade.

And yet, here she stood, looking up at the overly tall and ornate doors of Malfoy Mansion. She swallowed the panic and pounded the doorknocker. The door opened with a heavy wooden groan, and there stood a house-elf in crudely wrapped, wide, red ribbons.

"Hello, miss!," the elf squeaked at her. "Toby can help you?"

"Hello, Toby. My name is Hermione Weasley, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I sent an owl about the library?"

"Oh, yes, miss! The Mistress wanted Toby to take you to the library straightaway. Please follow!"

Hermione could feel her throat closing as she stepped over the threshold, and she rubbed her left forearm. The memories flooded back, as vivid as if it had happened this morning. She had to swallow back the bile that rose as she relived Bellatrix's cursed blade carving into her arm. Hermione had to focus simply on a single ribbon that trailed behind the elf in front of her as she followed Toby down hallways to the library.

The Malfoy library would have been Hermione's dream come true, were it not for the fact that it was inside one of the places she most hated in this world. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of the rarest and most sought-after books in the wizarding world lay in this one humongous room. And there, in a corner to the right of the door was a table, set for tea, where Narcissa Malfoy sat. The matriarch had aged well, with only a bit more gray in her hair and a few more wrinkles to account for her nearly 70 years.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley. How are you?" Narcissa spoke as she always had: well-controlled, softly, and with an underlying tone of authority.

"I'm very-," Hermione broke off as her voice squeaked, and she ahemmed before starting again. "I'm very well, Mrs. Malfoy. And yourself?"

"As well as a woman my age can be. Please, sit," she gestured to the chair opposite her. "How do you take your tea?"

Hermione slid into the seat as gracefully as she knew how, and set her bag gently on the floor beside her. "Oh, don't worry yourself with that, ma'am. I know how with your social standing, it was probably difficult to find a time for me to do this on such short notice-"

Narcissa waved a hand. "It was no trouble at all. After that nasty business with the war, and then Lucius's passing, I find that I don't have much interest in too many parties or social calls anymore. But, still, I find it rude to not offer my guests tea, at least." As she finished speaking, she had already begun to pour for Hermione.

Hermione smiled, having learned enough social graces in her years as celebrity to know how to handle purebloods like Narcissa. It also helped to calm her nerves, and she reached for the cream. "Still, I do thank you. Your library is well-known, and my department wants to insure that all books that contain potentially dangerous magic are catalogued."

Narcissa's eyes cut quickly to Hermione's. "Your… department does not mean to diminish my library, I hope?" she asked carefully. "Many of these books have been in the Malfoy and Black lines for generations."

This was something that had been highly debated between herself and the other officials of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Many still held resentment toward the Malfoy family for their involvement in the war, and their connections to dark magic. Hermione had gone back and forth with the decision herself. Do they confiscate the dangerous books? If they did, would they be destroyed, or used to gain more knowledge into how to defend against dark magics? Or, would the Malfoy's be allowed to keep their immense collection, based on the good behavior exhibited since the war?

"No, of course not. These tomes are family heirlooms. We do, however, wish to make copies and catalogue them. That way, we can better learn to defend against any dark magic described in them. Plus, if any were to be stolen, we would have a tracking charm on them so that they could be recovered." Hermione took a sip of her tea as Narcissa seemed to think it over.

"I suppose that would be acceptable," she finally said, "but you must understand that the collection is not nearly as… extensive as it used to be. Many were destroyed after the war, when we were being investigated."

"Of course. When would you like me to start?"

"You may begin whenever suits you best, Mrs. Weasley. I will help as much as I can, and I can also enlist my house-elves help, if you would like. Though I have heard that you do not generally approve of their helping?"

The smile that came onto Hermione's face then was a well-practiced one formed through many years of fighting with purebloods over their house-elves. "I would prefer to have help from educated people. I've found that most house-elves are illiterate, and I don't believe that would be very conducive to cataloguing a library."

Narcissa laughed then, "No, I don't believe that would help much. So then, would you like to get right to it, or start tomorrow?"

"Would nine tomorrow be good for you, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I'll actually be going for a bit of shopping and lunch with Astoria, but I should be back around one or so. If you'd like to go ahead and get started in the morning, I'll tell Toby to let you in and have lunch made for you. And, please, call me Narcissa."

Hermione nodded slowly, not sure how she would be able to deal with being in this house fairly alone. Surprisingly, having someone to talk to had taken her mind off of the memories of this place. "That would be fine, Narcissa. You can call me, Hermione, as well. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

With that, Hermione picked up her bag and Narcissa called for Toby to lead Mrs. Weasley on her way.

Hermione entered her flat that night and dropped her purse on the ground, spilling its contents over the floor. Then she slid down the door, and began sobbing. She rubbed at the scar on her arm, and wished for the millionth time that they hadn't gotten caught by the Snatchers, that Bellatrix hadn't had that damned cursed blade, and that she had never even seen Malfoy Manor to begin with.

When she had cried herself to near-total exhaustion, she showered and crawled into bed and wept some more before she finally fell into a fitful sleep where a black-haired witch carved into her arm and screamed, "Mudblood, mudblood!" at her over, and over.

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time since I've written anything, and so I ask that you all please offer only constructive criticism. It will be difficult for me to get back into the swing of things, as it were, so please be patient with me.

I would also like to mention that this takes place a pretty good ways after the battle, obviously. I will try to keep to canon as much as possible, up until the epilogue. If I make mistakes, please point them out and I will try to correct them.

One more thing, do not expect updates very quickly. I only have internet access when I visit my grandmother, so updates should be fairly regular (barring writer's block), but not often.

I hope you all enjoyed, and please favorite and review!