Chapter 6

The Weed and the Flower

"Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them." ~ A. A. Milne

[October 21, 2021]

[present day]

As far as Hermione was concerned, the Forbidden Forest gobbled up all sense of time. Hours must have passed already, she knew that much at least, but beyond that, it was anyone's best guess. Her calves were on fire, and more than just a few cuts and bruises mottled our skin, though the darkness hid them well.

"Are you sure there are werewolves in these woods?" Malfoy asked from ahead of her. He stopped to catch his breath, leaning his back against a trunk and resting his hands on his knees.

"Well, no, not really," Hermione admitted, making the most of the opportunity to rest by collapsing onto a nearby log. "But something is in these woods."

Malfoy said nothing, but she had no doubts he felt it, too. He must have. It—whatever "it" was, since even she wasn't sure—lingered like dewdrops on everything, trailing goosebumps up her arms. The woods she had known during all her field studies in her early days of the Ministry, back when she was with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, had been vibrant and lively, comforting like a security blanket. Now, she felt like that same blanket was trying to smother her.

"We should keep moving." Hermione grunted against the aches in her body—when had she gotten so old?—as she stood and shook the fatigue from her muscles.

Malfoy nodded and straightened up, raising his cane as he did so and showering them in a soft light.

Hermione took the lead, picking her way through the underbrush. If there was one thing she had learned from her position years ago, it was to watch where she stepped. They fell into a silent rhythm—step, crunch, step, thwack, step, crack—at a slower pace than before, but progress was still progress.

"What will happen to the Ministry?"

Hermione flinched at the random question. It was a thought she had intentionally—and successfully—put from her mind. Her department had been mostly abandoned, but the rest of the Ministry? At least the threat was contained, though there was always that niggling thought dangling at the end: for now.

"I...don't know," she admitted, not looking back and not letting up her pace. "By morning, those werewolves will be witches and wizards again, and the Aurors can round them up easily enough, I imagine."

"Or," just by the way Malfoy drew out the word, Hermione knew she was going to hate what came next, "by the morning, those werewolves will be witches and wizards and the Ministry will become a war zone."

"Well," Hermione grunted as she pulled herself up the rest of a steep incline using a branch as leverage, "we can't exactly worry about that right now, can we? Forgive me if I've got other things on my mind."

"Of course."

Down another slope. She was getting better at it, leaning back against gravity as the ground shifted under her, letting it carry her bit by bit down the incline. When she hit the bottom, the ground squished under her feet, and she wrinkled her nose at the feeling of her heels sinking in. Why was there so much give? Behind her, Malfoy must have hit the ground, too, because he issued a groan of disgust. The light bounced around the trees as he fiddled with his shoes, but Hermione pressed on.

They were close to the heart of the forest now, maybe even slightly past it. They wouldn't have to go all the way to Hogwarts, not if they could find some inkling to suggest what was happening before then. If they could just find—Merlin, what was wrong with her shoe? She tugged against it, and it threatened to come off before it finally wrenched free with a schloop.

"Erm, Hermione?"

The light was bobbing wildly now, and she couldn't make out a damn thing between the strobe-light patterns.

"Hold the light still, will you? I think there's something—"

No, she was sure of it, despite the chaotic lighting. There was something churning under their feet.

"Hermione."

The name was little more than a hiss, and she whirled around in response. Malfoy was shaking his leg frantically—that explained the poor lighting—and the harder he shook, the faster a tendril snaked up it. One was already progressing, albeit it slower, on his other leg, locking him in place.

"Devil's snare!" Hermione gasped as a tendril wrapped itself around her ankle like a shackle. Just what they needed. "Stop struggling."

"What?"

If her heart wasn't racing so fast and adrenaline starting to course through her veins, she might have found it amusing the way his voice, even at his age, raised slightly under stress. Somehow, it just wasn't the time for it, though.

"If you struggle, it moves faster. You have to trust me. Stop struggling."

Even in the dim light from his wand, he looked doubtful, but he listened just the same. The plant had already worked its way up to his waist and to her calves, but its pace slowed once they stopped moving.

Hermione pulled out her wand and barely had time to finish aiming it at her feet before a light blue jet erupted from it, morphing into blue flames. The effect was immediate; the plant withdrew from her ankle, and as she enlarged the flame, the Devil's snare cleared a path on the ground like the parting of the proverbial sea.

Malfoy released an audible sigh, and she realized, with a bit of satisfaction, that he must have been holding his breath as he awaited whatever rescue she had in store. Some knight he was.

"Hurry." She motioned her head down the path, and he ran ahead of her. She kept the plant at bay just long enough for them to safely pass, and then it closed up behind them, settling back into place as if nothing had disturbed it.

"Bloody forest," Malfoy muttered under his breath as he shook out his clothes—an action which was half-comical, given how filthy they both were already.

"Just a bit of Devil's Snare. The trick is to not panic."

"Easy for you to say. You weren't close to being strangled to death by a bloody plant." Malfoy's frown deepened as he adjusted his cane, kicking up the intensity of his Lumos so they could see more of the forest. "How do you remember all those things, anyway? All the plants, I mean, and the right spells."

"I...I don't know. I just do."

"Well, there's something to be said for that. It's impressive, I suppose."

Why was her face heating up like a foolish school girl? Because Malfoy had given her an almost-compliment? No, that wasn't quite it. Because someone who had spent most of his life telling her she was nothing had admitted that she was something, in a way, and it felt good, after all this time, even if she didn't need to hear him say it.

"We, um, we should keep going," Hermione said, since she couldn't think of anything better, as she started towards Hogwarts again. This wasn't exactly how she had planned on spending her evening, but it could have been worse. She could have been stuck in the forest with Umbridge. Now there was a thought that made her shudder.

"You know," Malfoy called from behind her, though she didn't turn to look at him, "if things had gone differently, we could have—"

"What, ended up together?" Hermione snorted at the thought.

"Merlin no. That never would've happened." Malfoy scoffed, and a fire flared up inside her, causing her cheeks and chest to burn with indignation.

"Oh, that's right. Because I'm just a Mudblood."

"No, because you're an insufferable, annoying, self-righteous git."

Hermione stopped short at that, and Malfoy plowed into the back of her with an, "Oompf." Truth be told, that wasn't anything near what she had expected, and she had no response. The best she could manage was a very eloquent, "What?"

"I was going to say we could have been friends." Malfoy sighed as he switched his cane to the other hand and swept his hair out of his face. "I admit, there is an ulterior motive to me wanting us to get along."

"Oh?" Now that one she'd expected, and she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms as she waited for him to elaborate.

"Don't give me that look. It's nothing sinister. At least give me the benefit of the doubt. It's for our children. Were you aware that they're seeing each other?"

"That's ridiculous. We don't have time for this."

Hermione started back on her path as she shook her head, trudging on through the forest.

"Is it really all that hard to believe?" Malfoy quickened his pace to catch up so they were walking side by side.

"Rose doesn't have a boyfriend. If she did, she would have told me. I have a very good relationship with my daughter, I'll have you know, and we don't keep secrets from each other."

"She would have told you? Even if it was someone she was sure her parents would hate? Someone her parents would forbid her from seeing?"

Hermione clenched her jaw but didn't answer. Of course Rose would tell me. That's what she wanted to say. But...There was always a but. She had been a teenager once; she wasn't so naïve as to believe that she was an exception. All the secrets she'd kept from her parents. They knew nothing, in the grand scheme of things, about her life. Hell, she'd even wiped their memories completely by the time she was seventeen. That was her world, though, and not Rose's, but maybe...

"They're growing up," Malfoy said, cutting through thoughts. "Keeping secrets is to be expected."

"How do you even know this?"

"Legilimens."

"You pried into your own son's mind?"

The thought alone of such a blatant betrayal of privacy made her cringe. Malfoy looked at her sideways, and his tone was calm and patient as he answered.

"I told you before, I intend to do everything in my power to ensure his future. I know how I was as a teenager. That's not what I want for my son. If it means crossing certain boundaries, then so be it."

There was such conviction in his eyes as they seemed to stare through her. For once, she found herself trusting his motives. He hadn't set out to betray anyone; not this time, at least. For once.

Hermione pushed on without comment, but she mulled over the idea. Like all mothers, she had known Rose had a crush, at the very least; like all teenagers, Rose had thought herself clever. But a Malfoy? Ron would be furious. And she...she should...

Hermione sighed as she used a slicing charm to break through a batch of underbrush and slipped through to the other side. She would do nothing, because if it was love, what could she do? This was one thing Rose would have to figure out on her own.

...oOo...

[December 22, 2020]

[one year ago]

"You'll be late for work," Hermione said for the fifth time that morning. Yes, she'd been counting, not that it did any good. Ron's nose was still buried in the Prophet, and his cereal was soggy by that point, forgotten in its bowl.

"Yes, of course, I'm going. But do you see this, 'Mione? The Harpies won! Again!" Ron hit the newspaper, causing it to crumple in on itself, before he finally set it aside and turned his attention to his breakfast. "That's four games in a row. I was so sure this time..."

"I still can't believe you're betting against your sister."

"Well, Harry couldn't bloody well do it, could he? Blimey, Ginny's right scary when she's mad, and could you imagine what she'd do if she found out? It was a mercy bet, I swear."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"Wasn't just me. George bet on Puddlemere, too, you know."

"And now you've both lost. Should have had more faith in your sister's team, Ron."

"Yeah, and if I had, she'd a lost just to spite me."

Hermione shook her head as she cleared what was left of Hugo's plates from the table. He'd run off to...somewhere. The older they got, the harder it was to tell exactly where the kids were off to. She glanced up at the grandfather clock in the corner that had been Molly's wedding gift to them. Hugo's arrow was pointed out at the Potters. Why did that not surprise her?

She pulled her attention away from the clock as Rose shuffled into the kitchen and took a seat across from her father.

"Hungry?" Hermione asked, but Rose simply shook her head. Something was up. Hermione knew the warning signs, but she was almost afraid to ask. Part of her wanted Rose to stay her little girl forever, as illogical as that was. Finally, she mustered up the courage. "Something wrong, sweetie?"

"No. It's just...Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Hermione grabbed her coffee cup and took a seat in the chair beside Rose. "What's on your mind?"

"How did you know you were in love with Dad?"

At the other end of the table, Ron coughed and spluttered, face turning bright red as he fought to swallow the food that was lodged in his windpipe.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said, but she smiled just the same because it was the first time "the L-word" had reared its ugly head in this context and it was time, whether he liked it or not.

"I mean, was it love at first sight?" Rose whispered, leaning closer and ignoring her father's coughing fit.

"Heavens no." Hermione laughed so hard at the thought of their first encounter that she was afraid she wouldn't be able to stop, but Ron shot her a dirty look across the table, and she managed to reel it back in. "Honey, love at first sight only exists in fairy tales. In reality, love is something that has to grow over time. You don't necessarily start out loving someone. You learn to love them as you get to know them."

"But how do you know it's love?" Rose insisted.

"Right, I'm late for work," Ron interjected, clearing his throat and tucking the Prophet under his arm as he stood up.

"You'll know it's love when you've learned all of their faults and shortcomings and you still love them in spite of everything."

"Besides, sweetheart," Ron added as he stopped by Rose's chair and kissed the top of her head, "you're much too young for love and boys and stuff."

Hermione quirked her eyebrows as Ron pecked her on the cheek in passing and grabbed his outer robes off the hook. She could have pointed out that they were the same age as Rose when they had attended the Yule Ball and she had felt the first butterflies flutter, had her first inkling. She could have, but she didn't. Ron wasn't ready yet to have his heart broken.

...oOo...

[October 21, 2021]

[present day]

Hermione shook her head as her foot snagged on a root, and the only thing that kept her from face-planting was Malfoy's quick thinking and his grip on her arm. She was too distracted now, and that was dangerous, but she couldn't bring herself to dismiss the thoughts, either.

What if the boy Rose had been so confused over was a Malfoy? Would it matter? She had always prided herself on being reasonable and level-headed, ever fighting for justice and equality, but was that really the truth? Or was she just better at hiding her own prejudices?

"If," Hermione began, skirting the outside of what appeared to be a bog, "if you're right and they are...Well, what exactly do you want me to do about it?"

"Convincing your husband not to hex my son into oblivion would be a good place to start." Malfoy grimaced as he stepped too close to the edge and his shoes made a loud squick as he pulled them free. "The boy's terrified of him. I can't imagine why. Scorpius is a competent duelist—I made sure of that—and it's Weasley, after all. But he wants to make a good impression."

"I suppose I can do that much. They're just kids, after all."

It was a start, and Malfoy seemed content having come to that much of an agreement, and they lapsed back into silence. They passed tree after endless tree, all dressed the same in identical foliage and vines, all blending together. Creatures were rarer, though they came across the occasional animal. For the most part, it seemed like everything was in hiding, almost, and Hermione immediately regretted thinking it. She didn't like the idea that they knew something she didn't.

Even though they couldn't see the sky, and it was perpetually dark under the canopy, to some extent, it must have been getting close to morning. She was exhausted, both body and spirit, and even Draco was showing obvious signs of fatigue.

Hermione was just beginning to wonder if there was actually anything worth finding or if it had all been in her mind when distant rustling broke the silence.

"Something's up ahead," Malfoy whispered, dimming his wand.

Hermione nodded and adjusted her pace accordingly. More than one "somethings," judging by the sound. She crouched lower, careful of where she stepped, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. Sneaking wasn't exactly her forte, though, and certainly not in heels and not when her feet were killing her. What she wouldn't give for a good, old-fashioned pair of trainers.

Before they could get too close, a large, black creature erupted from the bushes, followed by another and then two more. At first, they were just looming, amorphous shadows, but Hermione quickly recognized the milky-white eyes and leathery wings.

"They're just thestrals."

As relieved as she was that it wasn't anything worse, Malfoy didn't seem to share the emotion. His grip on his cane remained firm, and he held the light in front of them as if it would keep the creatures at bay. It didn't work.

They shied closer, and Malfoy took a step back. Hermione wasn't concerned about it—at first. But there was something in the way they stamped their hooves and shifted their feet, something about how they flexed and relaxed their wings. They were nervous.

"There's something wrong," she said, shaking her head. "This isn't right. Why are they acting this way?"

"Now's not a good time to ask questions. We should go."

Malfoy gripped her arm and tugged her to the right, but the sudden movement was all it took. The closest thestral reared back and lunged. They broke apart, Malfoy on one side and her on the other, letting it pass between them with mere inches to spare. Thestrals weren't aggressive by nature, but there was a reason they had a XXXX rating, and she didn't want to be on the wrong side of a spooked one, that was for sure.

There was no time to react, though, as the other three followed the first. She dodged one, but couldn't get out of the way fast enough to avoid the next. It was like hitting a furry brick wall; the world spun, and she found herself on the ground with the air knocked out of her, struggling to make sense of what had happened. But there was no time. Another shadow loomed over her, and she saw it, but she couldn't move fast enough.

"Look out!"

Someone was over her. He cast a hasty shield, but it was rushed and too weak; it absorbed part of the blow, but he was still knocked back several feet and thrown onto his back. But that was all the time she needed. Hermione's senses kicked in, and she rolled out of the path of the last thestral's hooves.

She grabbed her wand out of the leaves where it had fallen from her robe and scrambled to her feet, but they had already disappeared into the forest, and she wasn't about to go after them.

Malfoy groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He had a few new cuts, and Hermione ventured a guess that he'd hate himself in the morning, if they made it that long, but he was in one piece, at least. They both were.

"Why would you do that?" she asked as she offered her hand to help him up. "Why would you try to protect me?"

"Don't flatter yourself." He took her hand and hoisted himself up, brushing rotted leaves off his robes and picking a few from his hair. "I just reacted."

He was lying, and poorly, given that it was painfully obvious. For the first time, she realized that he really was trying, and as hard as it was for her, Hermione couldn't imagine he had an easier time with it.

Hermione had always thought of him as a weed whose presence was choking the life out of those around him. He wasn't exactly a flower now, goodness no, but he had potential, at least. Besides which, she was much less tempted to poison him.

Maybe, just maybe, if they tried hard enough, they could change the things between them. Maybe it had been in them all along.

...oOo...

[September 1, 2019]

[2 years ago]

"Let's go, Hugo. If you don't pick up the pace, you'll be late." Hermione twirled her hand in a circle, bidding him to move faster. Ron and Rose had already disappeared through the brick wall and onto the platform. Despite the warning—for the hundredth time that morning—Hugo continued to drag his feet. If that wasn't a clear sign, she didn't know what was. Merlin, the boy was as transparent as his father.

"What's wrong, dear?" Hermione asked, glancing at the large clock on the station wall. They had time still. No need to rush quite yet.

"Nothing," Hugo mumbled, the word nearly lost amid the din of the train station.

"First-year jitters?"

Hugo seemed surprised as he looked up at her.

"Is...is that a real thing?"

"Sure, why not? I thought I was going to puke as I waited for the train my first year, I was so nervous."

"Gross, Mum." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Rosie didn't seem to have a problem."

"Well, that's Rosie. We're talking about you. It's perfectly normal to feel nervous."

Hugo shrugged and looked away. He was clearly unconvinced.

"It's just...Rosie's so smart, you know? She's good at just about everything. But...what if I'm no good at anything?"

"You're good at plenty of things."

"No, I'm not. Not like Rosie. What if I fail out of Hogwarts?"

Oh, where to even start? With the fact that no one had ever failed out of Hogwarts that she knew of, and if Crabbe and Goyle hadn't managed, it was a safe bet that Hugo wouldn't either? Or with the fact that Rose herself had rather disappointing marks in Potions last year and managed her grades not because she was perfect but because she worked at it and sacrificed social time to study? Hermione was no stranger to that herself. No, an eleven-year-old didn't want to hear any of it.

"Do you remember that book I used to read to you when you were little? Beedle the Bard?"

Hugo looked at her sideways, nodding as he scrunched up his face, skeptical of where the conversation was heading. She had all she could do not to laugh at his cuteness.

"There was one story, 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune.' Do you remember? Four people were competing for the chance to bathe in the fountain, since only one of them would be allowed to do so and get their heart's desire."

"Yeah, but that story was stupid. The fountain didn't even do anything."

"That's right, but I think you missed the point. The power was in them all along. They were the ones who could make their dreams happen, if they just put in the effort. Everyone has the power to change their future if that's really what they want. So the secret to it all is if you find something that you enjoy, put in the effort until you're great at it."

"You think...I mean, you really think that'll work?"

"Of course, dear." Much to his horror, she pulled him into a hug—yes, right there in front of everyone in the station. She made sure it was brief, patting his back reassuringly. "Besides, between you and me, your father couldn't even do a simple Levitation Charm when he started, and look at him now. Never would have guessed, would you?"

"Really? He told me he took out a troll his first year."

"Erm, well, sort of. Harry did most of the work, I think, though Ron did shove his wand up its nose."

"That's not how Dad tells it."

"No, I imagine not."

Hermione glanced again at the clock. They were running out of time, and no doubt Ron and Rose thought the worst by now. It was time they get moving again.

"Let's go now. You'll be late."

The hundredth and first time. It must have been a magic number, though, because this one took, and Hugo crossed the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾ without further reservations.

...oOo...

[October 20, 2021]

[present day]

Hugo had done it, not without some effort. Quidditch had come as naturally to him as it had Hermione, which was to say not at all, but he had dedicated the time and effort to make it work. What kind of hypocrite would she be if she didn't at least try herself?

It wasn't like there was suddenly going to be some big Malfoy/Weasley unification going on, but maybe if they invited Scorpius for dinner, just once to start with...

"Shouldn't we be moving along?"

"Hm?" Hermione didn't realize she had stopped, but Malfoy was now in front of her, wearing his annoyance clearly enough. "Yes, of course."

She pushed the thoughts aside and kept walking. There was plenty of time to worry about all these things. They had a task at hand that required her attention first and foremost. Though, if she were honest, she didn't want to focus on that, either.

"Have you thought about what we'll do if we actually come across a werewolf between here and Hogwarts?" Draco asked several minutes later. The ground had evened out, and the going was a bit easier.

"All this time we've been at it, and you're just thinking," she whisked a mess of hair out of her face as she stumbled along, "to ask of it now?"

"Yes, well, I didn't think anything of it until you reacted so poorly to the acromantulas..."

Hermione didn't understand at first, but when the realization dawned on her, she exhaled with a hiss.

"Those are people, Mr. Malfoy. You can't just set them on fire."

"No, of course not."

The light from his wand wiggled as he waved his hand to dismiss the thought. Hermione held a branch for him to pass, though it did occur to her how easy it would have been just to let it go.

"Fire was a special case for the acromantulas. I wouldn't expect to use it on werewolves, but I can't say there would be no injuries, either."

Hermione couldn't argue with that. She would have liked to, but the reality of it was that a wild werewolf was a challenge to subdue and a danger to everyone involved—including themselves.

"Just...do what you need to short of killing them."

"Fair enough."

They only made it a few more steps before Malfoy stuck his cane in front of her and motioned for her to be silent. He touched his finger to his ear lightly, the sign for her to listen, and she did—to silence. After a few seconds, she realized there was something else, a steady drumbeat that she hadn't noticed. They were hooves. She was almost sure of it.

"Centaurs?" she whispered, and Malfoy shrugged. Hermione focused on the hoof-beats, trying to count them as they fell. No, just one centaur, by the sound of it. It slowed to an occasional clop as it drew closer. Must have seen the light. Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her as if asking, What now?, but she just shook her head. No use in hiding. Not over one centaur. Besides, it was their best shot at getting information.

Hermione held her breath as a pale shape peeled from the shadows, one arm in front of his face as he stepped into the light.

"Ms. Granger?"

That voice! Thank Merlin! So their luck wasn't all bad after all.

"Firenze?" she asked, struggling to see his features to be sure.

Draco lowered his cane, pointing it towards the ground so the light that surrounded them was softer and their eyes could adjust. The centaur lowered his arm and blinked his large, round eyes as he took them in.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" His tone was as intentional and melodic as always. If there was anything stressing him, he was good at hiding it.

"We have reason to believe Hogwarts may be in danger. If you've seen anything..."

"Seen, no. But the stars," Firenze motioned skyward as he looked up, "they've been warning of danger for days now."

He lowered his gaze, and the wand-light reflected off them in an eerie way as he knit his eyebrows.

"You should leave this forest, Ms. Granger, before it's too late. There are horrible things in these trees lately, Dark things that put everyone ill at ease. I'm sorry I can't say more, but I, too, must go."

Hermione didn't even have time to object before Firenze bowed his torso and vaulted past them, heading deeper into the woods where they had come from. So much for being able to get help. This just wasn't her evening. Merlin, what an understatement that was.

Before she could decide how to react, Malfoy had a grip on her shoulder, pushing her forward into the trees. Hermione dug in her heels, but he was insistent and the pressure never wavered.

"We need to go," he whispered in her ear, and she didn't understand, at first, the sudden urge.

From somewhere in the depths of the trees, a lone wolf howled. All around them, one at a time, other wolves took up the lament. In the distance, the sky was starting to gray.

Author's Note: It's been a while since I updated this! I've gone back and edited chapter 5 so that hopefully it makes more sense and isn't so...full of plot holes?

Prompts:

Quidditch Through the Ages:

Pitch: There should be visible improvements on something, and they should work more effectively as a team by the end of the chapter.

(Quote) "Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them." ~ A. A. Milne

Multi-Chapter List Challenge:

(Plot & Character) Show a change in your protagonist's mindset/actions/morals/etc in this chapter

(Devices & Structure) Use an extended metaphor.

(Devices & Structure) Use a simile.

(Devices & Structure) Use metonymy in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Include a flashback in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Use foreshadowing in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Use third person limited narration in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Include a cliffhanger at the end of this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Use more than three settings in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) This chapter includes humor.

(Devices & Structure) In this chapter, someone does something that would, under normal circumstances, be considered out of character for them.

(Devices & Structure) This chapter features a character letting go of a long-held grudge.

(Story-Wide Prompts) Your story includes a morally gray character in the main cast.