Obiter Dictum

5

Why?

Because he needed to be able to spend time with his family. And he knew that Hermione would pick things up quickly, allowing him the opportunity to do that. Draco was smart, though he wasn't as quick as the young Gryffindor witch. And once she was qualified as a Master... Well. The training of apprentices would fall to her, freeing him of the responsibility.

He knew his selection would cost him, however. Draco had raved and ranted on how the Muggleborn had been chosen over his own family. That the girl must have made him an offer he couldn't refuse. That he would not have possibly chosen her for purely academic purposes. Having Granger around was sure to leave him with a perpetual headache with all her questioning and insisting.

She'd already caused quite the stir in his home. Briar had not at all taken a liking to the new witch. The house, however... Yes, the house liked her very much. His wife's magic approved of the young woman. He couldn't help but smirk at the thought, hidden behind his teacup. He was certain Emmeline would have adored Hermione. He was aware that they had briefly met on more than one occasion, though to what extent, he wasn't certain. They couldn't have known each other very well.

Extremely aware of the growing jealousy radiating off of his former Slytherin pupil, he allowed himself to slip into her thoughts, his curiosity getting the better of him. Indeed, it did appear Miss Greengrass was envious with which the ease Hermione had introduced herself into their lives. The notion entertained him greatly.

It was true, Daphne had had a hell of a time getting accustomed to their way of life, though she had known upon being hired that his children were not the easiest to wrangle into shape. That too very much entertained the dark wizard. It appeared that even despite the lack of House rivalry, the two of them would still be on uneven footing.

Emmeline would have brushed a strand of hair from his face and smiled. "You've no less than two young ladies fighting for your attention, keresik," She would have said with a laugh. The thought of her made his chest feel tight, his breathing faltering for a moment as his heart skipped a beat. Gods, he'd have to get a handle on that.

It wouldn't do to stop breathing every time he thought of his wife. Late wife.

Unfortunately, Hermione seemed to have noticed, as she eyed him worriedly. She said nothing, though, a fact he was grateful for. Instead, true to her person, she asked a question. "I beg your pardon, Professor, I just wanted to ask about the song you were singing to your children,"

He looked down into his cup, swirling it about, watching the bits of leaves move about. "Heard that, did you?" he asked, his eyes sliding up slowly to meet hers. Satisfied with the shiver that ran up her spine as he did so, he smirked. "I should remember to charm the walls. They are so very thin. Wouldn't want anyone to hear anything that wasn't meant to be heard," he all but purred. He raised an imperious brow as Hermione reddened considerably, the rush of colour running down her throat. Interesting.

Amused by Daphne's blanching as well, he jerked his head in her direction. "Miss Greengrass can answer your questions on lullabies, Miss Granger," he said coolly, setting the cup in the sink. "I am off to bed. Goodnight,"

Hermione waved feebly, waiting until his footsteps receded down the corridor before speaking. "What the bloody hell was that?"

The blonde giggled nervously. "He tends to do that when he doesn't want to talk. Most efficient way of getting a girl to shut up, I suppose,"

The Gryffindor stared at the spot he had occupied only a moment earlier, her brow furrowed. "He flirts to get people to shut up? What kind of logic is that?"

Daphne giggled again and shrugged. "Not sure, but it works, doesn't it? That's all that matters,"

Shaking away the thought of the encounter, Hermione focused on her question. "Can you answer my question? I just wanted to know the origin of the song, is all,"

The governess nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, of course, it's Cornish. Medhel an gwyns. It's an old lullaby. The children also like some old Gaelic ones. I think the Madam had Scottish family? Not sure. He never speaks of her. All I know is from the children and their memories aren't the most reliable. Linden remembers the most, seeing as he's the eldest," she paused. "I should get to bed, as well,"

Hermione nodded, processing the information. "Of course, thanks. Goodnight,"

She watched her go up the stairs before wandering back down the hall to her own bedroom. It had been a very bizarre evening. First, she was attacked by a child, then she'd nearly accused her new employer of murdering his own wife, only to be outwardly flirted with by said employer to get her to shut her gab.

Would every day be like that?

She could only wait and see.