February 2004

At the time, Hermione remembered being able to manage a forced... something like a smile. There she was: posed for a picture with Parvati Patil and Myrtle Holton for the Prophet. She'd even sounded sincere when she thanked Madam Holton for the generous donation of her family's rare book collection.

If someone had dared tell her the future when she stormed out of Professor Trelawney's classroom years ago, she was convinced she would have cursed them. She should have been thrilled, her library had received international acclamation only five years after its conception. It held the dubious honour of welcoming divination scholars from around the world, as they eagerly worked on their (mostly) bogus research. The concept of any kind of public library was revolutionary in Wizarding England.

Looking back on it now, it was all Ronald's fault. Most things were Ronald's fault, so it was hardly surprising.

She'd never forget the first Weasley family dinner she went to that included Parvati Patil. It was just a few months after she opened her shop, during the Christmas holiday a couple days after Ginny got home.

Hermione remembered swallowing hard at the sight of Parvati's immaculate dress, perfectly done hair and face, and the horror she'd felt when she realized Ron had invited her as his date. She'd looked down at her own clothes, cursing her running shoes and faded jumper. Why hadn't she changed before coming to dinner? Suddenly no answer seemed acceptable.

"Hermione!" the girl said, smiling and moving to hug her. The reciprocation was as awkward as they came, and she was sure she actually patted the taller girl's back, "I can't believe you didn't come to Hogwarts this year."

"No one can," Hermione muttered. Just when she was about to move from resenting to outright disliking Ron's new girlfriend, she saw her eyes tear up.

"It's been really lonely," Parvati said, quietly. Still at a distance from the rest of the family, no one seemed privy to the rapid one eighty in conversation. That is, not until Hermione burst into tears, giving the girl a real hug. It was shocking after that how an entire school career of mild to severe annoyance and dislike evaporated while the former roommates cried.

"Girls are barmy," Ronald muttered in the background to Harry.

"You'll need the patience of Flamel to deal with him," Hermione said between sobs. For a second, she worried she'd ruined it. A moment later, and to her relief, Parvati laughed. Whatever the elusive formula for best friendship is, it was met. To the extent, even, that Hermione found herself reluctantly supportive of Parvati's pursuit of a Mastery in Divination.

She cringed when she thought of the rare books she'd tracked down for her, and some of the barely legal ways she'd managed to gain ownership of them. Worse still: the divination books started attracting people to her library for the sole purpose of reading them. Hermione knew it was doomed when a noted Seer died, and she discovered the woman's collection was bequeathed to her library. She'd actually gone home and cried.

By the time she adequately stocked the shelves with other subjects, it was too late - they were merely used as enrichment to the only academic subject - magical or muggle - that she actively loathed.

Days like this one, when she caught sight of the framed article and picture on the wall, she fantasized about throwing darts at it. Otherwise the hum of noise coming from the coffee shop tables and from the shelves in the shop below were just the thing to keep her working hard on her newest projects. Combined with the people studying in the now carefully warded and silent portion of the library, they were a testament to success, even if not in the way she initially intended.

It was startling then, and caused her to look up when she heard a gradual hush fall through the building. It seemed to ripple from the bottom floor, traveling up to the coffee shop as curious onlookers peered down over the railing at whatever spectacle occurred below. She hoped no one had tried to steal one of her books again. A modified version of Ginny's Bat Bogey would have taken them by surprise.

It was strange though, there was usually more laughter in response to that one.

She stood up, walking over to the stairs to deal with whatever it was. Eyes seemed to follow her as well, and moments later she understood why, a little too perfectly. While people were hesitantly accepting of Draco's occasional presence in her shop, newly released Lucius Malfoy would still cause a stir.

In fact, she'd heard nothing about him coming to the Alley since his release from Azkaban six months prior. Considering the shockingly reliable gossip chain she had access to via Madam Malkin, there was little chance that she'd simply missed him. This was his first venture back into Diagon Alley.

"Mr Malfoy," she acknowledged, when she got close enough that she didn't need to shout. She glared around the shop, and people pretended to go back to their business while they actively eavesdropped. She didn't tolerate disrespect to anyone, even if she'd happily argue that they'd earned it.

"Miss Granger," he nodded, he opened his mouth for an instant, then closed it.

Hermione wrestled with a few things to say, sincere friendly words mostly overwhelmed with some less friendly ones in her brain. She raised her coffee cup in a toast, "we survived," she said, bringing it back to take a sip.

For an instant, his mouth twitched into the barest hint of a smile, "I'd say some of us with more success than others," his eyes fell on the article she detested, "I never suspected you would pick divination."

"Merlin," she huffed, "I would never. Divination picked me."

"I came to tell you that Madam Rowle is dead."

Hermione blinked a couple times, "Oh," she said, then nodded, "I'm sorry."

Her last interaction with her was fresh despite the four years that went by since. She could still picture the haughty woman, barely able to walk, dragging herself into her shop simply to tell her that she would never step foot in the store again. Hermione wondered if she should be ashamed over the things she let the old woman bait her into saying, and occasionally blushed when she remembered particularly vile parts of the conversation. If it was any defence, she was in a pretty bad mental state at the time.

"I hoped you would consider being present at the funeral," at Hermione's visible revulsion, Malfoy grimaced.

"She was a hateful old hag," Hermione said, snapping her mouth shut the moment she spoke the words. The woman was dead, there was surely no need to speak unkindly about her now. A 'no' would suffice.

"Angry and bitter until her last days," Mr Malfoy agreed, "but she spoke of you often."

Hermione didn't have much of a response to that, "All good things, I'm sure," Malfoy studiously examined her bookshelves.

"Some less than good, but she bequeathed most of her personal library to your project despite it."

"I suppose I'll be there," she said, walking away to process why she'd agreed. The books were probably cursed.

"My owl will deliver the details," Malfoy said to her back, taking the bobbing of her head as an acknowledgement.

After he left, Hermione walked into the restricted portion of the library, finding the transfiguration book that she'd bought to spite the woman. She pulled it from the shelf, tucking it into her bag before heading out. Her stomach twisted into knots over the idea that Madam Rowle left the books to her project despite the woman's deep and abject hatred of her. She wasn't sure if it made the old bat a better person, but she felt a guilt she couldn't quite pinpoint over the situation.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, letting out a strangled cry when she felt things crawl from her nose, then watched with horror as they flapped around her head, diving down at her hair. It took a few long moments for people around her to understand what was happening, and longer still for someone to do something about it.

"Thanks," she said, her shoulders still tense, and her eyes darting in search of more of the cursed creatures. She rushed out of the store, after diligently removing the anti-theft spell on her book.

It was too easy to pick something to wear to the funeral. Hermione found a black muggle pant suit, and left her hair down. She hoped that if the woman's ghost stuck around, it would be suitably scandalized.

She slipped into her muggle pumps to complete the outfit, and headed to the fireplace.

"Hermione…" George said, intercepting her on the way out.

"Please don't try to talk me out of this again," she snapped, a little prematurely she realized when she noticed he was wearing dress robes.

"I wouldn't dream of it… just wondering how much trouble I'd be in if I released Bewitched Bards in the manor?"

"Since when do you care?" she smiled a little, "Astoria would find it funny, for what that's worth."

Her voice shook a little when she dropped the floo powder, deluding herself that George wouldn't actually… at least probably… maybe release his most annoying (recent) invention at a funeral. Behind the green flames engulfing her she saw him smirk and let the alarm she felt over his plan take over the alarm she felt over her destination.

"Malfoy Manor," she said, relieved that when she stepped through the room was unrecognizable. She glanced around, watching a handful of people dressed in elaborate robes speaking to each other in hushed tones. No one seemed to take notice of her arrival but she still felt a wash of gratitude at George's warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze of support.

"The hell are you doing here, Granger?" Draco asked. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice.

She shrugged, "saying goodbye, I suppose, like everyone else here."

Draco rolled his eyes, "most people are just hoping they'll find out she left them her fortune and here to pretend they cared enough to warrant it," he scrunched his nose at the wine he'd just taken a large gulp of, apparently finding something wrong with it.

"Good to see you, Weasley," he added, with some sincerity, though he continued to make a face at his glass, "Father certainly didn't splurge."

"Who did she actually leave it to?" Hermione asked, ignoring both Draco's pettiness and George's silent laughter. She felt just a touch slimy that she was also there for that reason. A fortune of knowledge? She tried that out in her head, but it just sounded corny.

"Probably all to father," Draco shrugged, "he's one of the only people who could stand to speak to her before she got sick at the end. Must have been playing the long con..."

"There's no need to be so crass about it," Astoria said, glaring at the pointy blonde as she joined the group. He looped an arm around her, raising his eyebrows.

"Even you admitted that she was 'one of the least pleasant individuals you'd met', she was a cow. No need to say different cause she's dead."

All three of them cringed, but Astoria didn't jump to deny the claim. After a moment's silence, she spoke again, "Madam Rowle was an excellent teacher, and she loved to share her knowledge."

Draco looked at her with the strangest expression of fondness and amusement. A few more people trickled in, then they proceeded to the grounds.

"Watching Malfoy fall in love reminds me of seeing Filch smile," George muttered into her hair, "not right, I'll tell you." She was proud of how well she concealed her laughter with a cough. It was almost believable.

People place flowers they transfigured into the casket, sobbing their goodbyes. When it was her turn to view the deceased, Hermione hauled the book out from her bag, placing it with the witch.

"You'd have liked to think the knowledge should be with everyone… but we could both be quite petty. Thanks, I guess, for the books," she didn't say anything else. It felt strange to talk to the dead woman, whose peaceful expression she hadn't seen since she was twelve and learning transfiguration from her. Feeling self conscious, and utterly ridiculous, she walked back to her spot. Leaning her head against George's shoulder, she listened to the wizard presiding over the ceremony despite herself.

I keep thinking its done, but I couldn't get this out of my head... I had fun writing, so I hope you enjoyed too :)

Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear what you thought!