Epiphany by phlox – Chapter 5

After that, things returned to a strange sort of normal. Like the feeling after a summer storm, it was as though a pressure, a weight had been lifted from the air, and the mood at Hogwarts was lighter for it. It wasn't just the steady rhythm of the clock or that the return of the spirit of competition between the Houses gave them purpose; the students seemed to be relaxed again, at home in a world that again made sense for all of them.

Balance had been restored.

Hermione saw Draco only briefly at breakfasts in the Great Hall over the next few days, and he nodded noncommittally each time to her open smiles. He hadn't seemed hostile, just avoidant, so she decided to give him his space, no matter how much she wanted to run after him, to shake him, to make him talk to her. She tried just making herself available, waiting for him to come to her, but she was quickly losing patience.

Then Headmistress McGonagall called her into her office, offering thanks and announcing that Hermione would be receiving a commendation from the Board of Governors for Special Service to the school.

Before Hermione could even ask, McGonagall said, "I spoke with Professor Malfoy and he refused it. He insisted he'd been more hindrance than help in the matter." Holding her hand up to forestall Hermione's objection, she went on. "I know all about his spell to silence Slytherin's portrait, and I know well why he did it. It seems there are more than a few people who think he got a raw deal after the war, and a good number of them are parents of current students. When he arrived in the fall, a handful of those who subscribe to pure-blood superiority sought to make him their cause célèbre. They met with him on the first Hogsmeade weekend, but Mr Malfoy was unwilling to carry their banner."

Hermione was a little too stunned to respond.

McGonagall smiled gently and continued. "While no one will ever hold a candle to Albus Dumbledore, each headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has had their ways of knowing more than anyone else what's going on," she said with an uncharacteristic smirk. "There have always been students – not all Slytherins, mind you – who rally and scheme, and we, for the most part, succeed in keeping an eye on them. It was true in the time of Harry's parents, in the generations before them, true for your time, and it's still the case today. Though there will always be discontent and factions will always form amongst the students, that's all a part of the experience of different points of view. That will never change."

"You're not concerned about the incidents of the past year?" Hermione asked.

"Of course I'm concerned. I always am, and I'm saddened, but I suspect that a lot of it had to do with Mr Malfoy starting last fall and was then escalated by the portrait and the breakdown of the Founders' magic. Naturally, hearing what he's been going through did come as a shock... but then he's been known to suffer in silence, not quite trusting the help that was to be had," she said sadly. "He's gotten even better at hiding his troubles through the years. It will take a patient heart to draw him out."

That last part was said rather pointedly, and Hermione's cheeks heated. She didn't know how these old meddlers kept guessing her feelings, since she never thought she was being particularly obvious about them. This particular embarrassment annoyed her, though; she didn't even know if there was anything to be mortified about, after all.

Suddenly, she was through with giving Draco his space and ready to get to the bottom of whatever this was between them. Hermione left the headmistress' office with purpose, determined to seek him out, ready or not.

She found him in the first place she looked, though there wasn't anything particularly impressive about her detective work. Draco didn't do much socializing outside of classes and meals, so it was an easy guess that he'd be in his classroom. Without knocking, she pushed inside to find him alone. In the fading light of sunset, the sight of him in his white shirtsleeves against the orange glow from the windows was nearly blinding. He was turned almost completely away from the door, and she could only see the faintest outline of his profile as he raised his wand in a confident swish and flick.

His incantation was silent, but the formless silvery mist that came from the end of the rod of hawthorn was unmistakable.

"That spell has always given me a bit of trouble too," she said quietly, though she startled him nonetheless. He whipped about to face her, wide-eyed until he recognized her. Once he lowered his wand, relaxed, Hermione continued, "When we were learning it in Dumbledore's Army, Harry made an example out of me to teach the rest and I froze up. I never got over it. I always stumble a little bit when I try."

"Granger, hearing that you were learning to wield this sort of magic as a fifth-year is not exactly helping me produce happy thoughts," he said sourly, but there was an ever-so-slight smile in his eyes.

Hermione couldn't help but smirk, enjoying in spite of herself that she had something over him. She did, however, hold back on adding that Harry had perfected the Patronus charm as a third-year. "Well, you should feel pleased that Defense Against the Dark Arts was my worst subject. I got a mere "Exceeds Expectations" for both my O. and my N.E. ." Hermione said this lightly, but it still rankled her. She had studied so hard for them, too.

"There are a great many things that please me, but I can't say that's ever been one of them. It does amuse me though."

She narrowed her eyes at him as he stood there, looking perfectly innocent. She had to look away to say, "Look, I wanted to—"

"I didn't know it was what I'd done to the portrait." he said lowly, and when she looked back to him, his face was flushed. "I mean, I considered the possibility, but I'd hoped it was something else. I thought for sure there had to be some other thing that would reactivate the catalyst, because it made no sense that—"

"It's fine, Draco."

"I didn't intend to waste your time."

"You didn't," she said simply.

He stared at her, surprised for a moment, then took a deep breath and released it slowly. Walking over to one of the few tables in the room, he leaned against it heavily. "It's just... the Founder's artifacts weren't the only important thing to me in all of this. I..."

He looked off out the nearest window, and a ray of the fading sunlight hit his eyes, making them bright silver. The beauty and frustration she saw there took her breath away.

"McGonagall told me about your meeting with the students," she said, forcing herself to keep her eyes on his, though they'd turned to her with such guilt shining through, it hurt to see it. "Draco, you're not responsible for what the students believe. You can't change the prejudices they arrive with, nor control the environment—"

"We should keep them from hearing more of it," he said sternly.

"Draco, if it's all they hear of such things, it won't have much effect. And if it's just reinforcing what they've already heard all their lives, silencing it won't matter."

"But you don't understand," he said, standing, moving toward her, his voice urgent. "You don't know the kinds of things he can say. He whispers... enticements... flattery."

"Yes."

"What he's saying to Gibbon now are the same things he said to me, the same things he said to my father and his father before that."

"Exactly."

"Granger, don't be purposefully obtuse," Draco snapped.

"Who's being obtuse? I'm standing here looking at you, Draco, the product of all of this flattery from Salazar Slytherin, and I can't bring myself to worry overly about it."

"Need I remind you who else was a product of Slytherin's encouragement?" he asked darkly.

"Tom Riddle is not the entirety of the House of Slytherin," she said fiercely, "and the only way to move forward is to stop acting as though he was." Draco was obviously taken aback at this pronouncement, and whatever retort he'd had prepared died as his mouth snapped shut in shock. Hermione took a deep breath and said, "Hogwarts is the whole of its history, the sum of its parts... and so are you. You're not a lesser man for the mistakes of your past; in many ways you're stronger for them. The Founders knew that. The imperfections of all of them and the foibles of the wizarding world are woven through the magic of this place."

Draco shook his head, his brow furrowed in utter disbelief at her words. "It's not so simple, Granger. A person can't just walk away and move on from your mistakes. The rest of the world doesn't let you."

Hermione's heart twisted, and she chose her next words carefully, not wanting to minimize something she'd never fully be able to understand about his experience. "You can only live your life, Draco, hoping the people you want to influence notice your example, and... ignoring the opinions of those who don't matter."

She shrugged, knowing it wasn't simple, but hoping against hope he could believe it was possible. Hermione knew if he'd let her, she'd never tire of reminding him of how she saw him, that he was so much more than what the world saw in him.

"Draco, no one is without fault or free from mistakes. It's the struggle to do what's right while still being imperfectly human that makes a good man."

His expression was still skeptical, but there was a brightness in his eyes that gave her hope. Hermione waited, though she wanted to throw her arms around him and snog any and all self-doubt away for good. Gradually, his spine straightened and his chest puffed back up. Seeing him like this, back to himself, she felt a wave of happiness take her, a faith in the future that filled her up, and it inspired her.

And so she concentrated, thinking of the crinkles that formed around Draco's eyes when he smiled... the rush she got when an unsure student finally mastered something they thought they could never do... the wonder in Harry's face when he looked at his wife and children... and she let this unbound joy fill her as she spoke the words: Expecto Patronum.

The silver otter shot from her wand, swimming and floating through the air, and it lit up Draco's face as it flew by. "See there?" she said, pointing at it as it flopped and swam about. "Everyone struggles. The point is to never stop trying to learn and grow."

Draco was watching her Patronus with what she thought was wonder until he side-eyed her with a smirk. "An otter? Where did that come from, Granger?"

Hermione frowned but refrained from turning it into a full-blown pout. "That's a perfectly respectable Patronus. It's chased off loads of Dementors and carried very important messages."

"I didn't say anything about it," he said innocently. "It's positively adorable."

Her frown turned into a scowl. "Right. Let's see then," she said, gesturing for him to reciprocate.

She might have imagined it in that light, but it looked like his ears turned red.

"No. I don't feel like—"

"Don't you have to practice for your class?"

He lowered his chin and said sternly, "Your concern is touching, but I don't have to prove anything."

"You scared, Draco?" she taunted, voice low.

But he didn't narrow his eyes at the challenge like she expected. Slowly, the largest smile she'd ever seen graced Draco's face, and a deep chuckle came from within him. Shaking his head, he turned abruptly and quickly cast the spell with a murmured incantation. As soon as the wiry, silver animal came flying from his wand, he glanced sharply over at Hermione, a warning in his eyes.

The ferret Patronus trotted about proudly on its short legs, back arched, head down, long fluffy tail dragging behind it. Stopping a moment, it turned, craning its long neck back toward them with curiosity, head up, sniffing.

"Not a word, Granger," Draco said softly.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Professor Malfoy."

With that, she again cast her Patronus, figuring she'd let the otter speak for itself. Bigger, more graceful in the air, it sped toward the waiting ferret, who did a half-sideways backward hop away before flopping on its back and mimicking the otter. Draco and Hermione watched and laughed as otter and ferret frolicked about and around each other in the air until they vanished into the fading sunlight.

~*:*~

Hermione leapt from the west staircase as it swung around to the main corridor, then turned and bounded down the grand staircase with a spring in her step that matched the warm, clear day outside. The castle was nearly empty, the entirety of the staff and student body out to watch the rescheduled match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin that would decide the Quidditch Cup.

Like McGonagall, Hermione was starting to be cautiously optimistic that Hogwarts had gotten over the worst of this particular rough patch. There would be more to come, but there was no storm the old school wasn't built to weather. One year was coming to an end, and a group of seventh-years would be leaving to forge their path in the world. But a new batch would come along, including a handful of Muggle-borns who would also be finding their way in a whole new world they'd never known was even possible.

She always got a little nostalgic and emotional around this time of year, but it always reminded her of the reason why she'd begun teaching; she wanted to give back some of the joy she'd found in this place. Though Hermione had always thought she'd make her mark on the world through big, sweeping changes to the Ministry or by changing the perceptions of society toward Magical Creatures, the law, or the absurdities of blood prejudice, she found her work was more satisfying here and her impact greater, one young mind at a time.

When she was nearly down to the Entrance Hall, she heard shouting. Her heart leapt into her throat as she recognized the frantic voice of Head Auror Harry Potter himself.

"Quick, or we're gonna have a real tragedy on our hands!"

"I can't do anything about it, Harry. I've got a mess of my own. If you hadn't been so sure about this, you might have taken some precautions to prevent—"

"Oh, bloody hell, Ron, just suck it up and follow my lead, alright?"

Hermione was about to rush to their aid when they came barreling through the double doors into the hall. Harry was in a T-shirt and jeans, looking rested but as rumpled as ever. He had a diaper bag over one shoulder and his youngest, six-month-old Lily, slung on his hip. His head was turned away and the expression on his face signaled what was sure to be an imminent diaper-change.

Ron was walking quickly with arms straight out in front of him, his baby niece, Roxanne, held as far away from himself as possible. Hermione was about to ask a half-dozen questions when Ron spotted her and shot in her direction.

"Auntie Hermione! Just the person we wanted to see, huh, Roxanne?" he said, blue eyes imploring as he tried to hand her off.

"Uh-unh," Hermione said, waving him away. "You're on your own, Uncle Ron. There's a changing table in the public toilet by the staff's lounge." She pointed to the right, trying not to laugh, figuring it was the least she could do.

"Harry..." Ron began, turning in desperation.

"Right behind you, mate," he said, pushing him from the back toward the loo. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he walked past. "Afternoon, Hermione."

She was still processing what they were doing here when she heard a faint, "Oi! Malfoy – out of the way!" from down the hall, proceeded by none other than the man himself. Glancing quizzically behind him as he made his way over to her, he gestured with a thumb over his shoulder and was probably about to ask any number of questions when she held up a hand.

"No idea," she said bluntly.

"They're not here in some official capacity?" he asked, looking sincerely suspicious.

"What, with babies as cover? You're being paranoid, Draco. There's nothing the Ministry wants with Hogwarts."

He nodded, a bit absently and with a crease in his brow, but he looked like he was going to let it go. She was trying to think what to say next when what must have been the last gaggle of kids in the castle bounded down the stairs, among them, Greta Carmichael and Mitchell Gibbon. Nearly a dozen of them rushed at their professors with enthusiasm, overwhelming them with questions about assignments, worries about exams, and pleas for reassurance and praise. Hermione was always energized by their eagerness. She couldn't imagine she'd matched it at their age.

Greta and Mitchell stood aside from the lot, talking quietly amongst themselves. But after several minutes, when the students all seemed to take their leave as quickly as they'd descended upon them, they moved to follow along. The two were almost past them when Greta turned and quietly said, "Afternoon, Professor Granger, Professor Malfoy." Gibbon was silent, though the girl seemed to have him tightly by the hand.

Hermione sighed, not in relief but in resignation. Things were going to be fine, not perfect, and that was good enough.

When the students were gone and it was again silent in the Entrance Hall, Draco reached out his hand and brushed the tips of his fingers down her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. Hermione turned to meet his gaze, and her shivers intensified at the look in them. Steel grey in the afternoon sun, they were full of purpose.

Draco leaned in – and she was just sure he was about to kiss her – when they were again interrupted by Harry and Ron's return. The latter had an absolutely comical look of disgust on his face, but Harry was as nonplussed as ever, kissing Lily's head with loud smacks that were making her giggle wildly. Draco stepped back, leaving Hermione's arm feeling a little bit colder, but he didn't leave, and she took that as a good sign.

"What are you two doing here, anyway? Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"She and Angelina are off shopping." Ron grumbled. "This was Harry's bright idea."

"I wanted to see the game. It was either take Lily or stay home with all the kids." Harry shrugged. "Samson's nephew plays for Ravenclaw. It seemed like a fair trade to get to come to the game."

Just then, Roxanne started fussing, looking as though she was just winding up for a full-blown cry. Ron moaned and started bouncing her, muttering as he walked briskly back outside. "Uninterrupted Quidditch. That's all I ask..."

"Harry," Hermione began, concerned, "do you think—"

"He'll be fine," Harry said with a wave. "Luna came with us. You should seethe hat she's got this time. She's got a way with Roxanne, but she doesn't do diapers."

Then Harry looked from her to Draco and suddenly seemed to register that he might be interrupting something. He froze on an inhale, as though he wasn't quite sure what to do about it. Draco was standing rather stiffly beside her, and she simply refused to abide any tension to intrude.

"So. How are you, Harry?"

He looked grateful as he let out that breath in a rush and answered. "Oh, the same. Ginny's decided to repaint, so the house looks like a tornado hit, I've been working on our liaison with the Vampire population in Eastern Europe, but that's been slow going, Albus is having troubles with another kid at daycare - apparently his name is difficult for kids to say and it's making him sad, which is making James taunt him endlessly, and Lily here seems to cut a new tooth every bloody day now, and—"

"Harry," Hermione said, softly chiding, "I asked how you are."

He looked startled for only a moment before his face broke into a grin. "Oh. Brilliant!" At that, Lily squealed and slapped him in the neck, and his smile doubled.

Then the crowd roared outside, and Harry's attention snapped toward what was surely the releasing of the Bludgers and Snitch, signaling the opening of the match. Nearly nothing trumped Quidditch, and powerless against its draw, he mechanically made to leave. But when he reached the door, he turned back and called out, "Malfoy. Five Galleons on Ravenclaw."

Draco scoffed, "Easy money, Potter."

Then with another great noise from the pitch, Harry was out the door with no goodbye to Hermione. Draco was about to follow, also seemingly helpless against the lure of the game, when she reached out to grab his arm, deciding on impulse to do something bold to the point of stupid.

"Draco, how about we skip the game?"

He turned to look at her, and it was as though what she was saying just did not compute at first. "What?"

"There's no one here... we could just get away and—"

"Granger, everyone's seen us together," Draco said, sounding almost scandalized.

"Well, yeah," she said, blushing. "That's sort of the point, isn't it?"

His smirk was slow and his look was wicked. "You do have a kink for that sort of thing, don't you? I would never have suspected, Granger, but I can't say I'm disap—"

"What I meant," she said with a huff and a toss of her hair, "was that there's nothing wrong with people knowing we're together. But if you think we should try to find somewhere no one will find us..."

She blushed, well aware that she was exhibiting all the sophistication of a teenage girl. She really was rubbish at this sort of thing. Though she did know what she wanted, she was just a little inarticulate about getting it. Her hand tightened in his, pulling him closer, willing him to understand.

Draco was good at this though, so she needn't have worried.

"Professor Granger. Are you asking me to escort you to the nearest broom cupboard for unspeakable acts and general defilement?" He played it up comically, but she was still getting weak in the knees at the look in his eyes.

"I wasn't necessarily suggesting that, but—"

"Hang on," he said, eyes wide. "Does your history at Hogwarts also lack trips to broom cupboards, great or small?"

Hermione suddenly felt the need to defend her teenage-self. "You know, some of us were a little busy when we were students here, and didn't have time to go gallivanting around," she said sourly.

Draco tightened his grip on her hand and turned abruptly, heading back up the stairs two at a time and yanking her with him. Hermione held tight with both hands, allowing him to pull her along and using his arm as leverage to scale at the rigorous pace he was setting. They had climbed a whole flight before he spoke back at her over his shoulder.

"Had I known you were being so sorely neglected, Granger, I assure you that even in those days, I would have done something about it."

She snorted, partly from the absurdity of his claim, but mostly from the fact she was already breathless from their journey. "I rather doubt that. But I assure you, I would have hexed you in a most pertinent place, had you even tried in those days."

"Well, as they say," he said as he stopped abruptly, swept her against him, and kissed her swiftly, "timing is everything."

And with that, he turned and fairly flew them up the next flight of stairs. As they sped off, a great cheer rose from the crowd outside, and Hermione's heart soared with it.

~*:the end:*~