Slow Grenade

Chapter Sixty-One

Two weeks passed in a flurry of excitement and, as Hermione walked into the Great Hall on the morning of the inter-House Quidditch match, she was struck by the scene in front of her. The pale blue, cloudless sky was projected across the enchanted ceiling, casting an ethereal glow over the gold and silver clad students. Whilst the House tables remained in place, no one took any notice of them as they raced animatedly from one person to another.

Professor McGonagall sat at the head of the staff table, smiling contentedly, and eventually stood to address the room. "We have already had the pleasure of watching six fantastic matches to determine our finalists." There was a roar of cheers and the Headmistress couldn't help the upward twitch of her lips. "Yes, thank you. Now I would advise that you all begin to finish your meals and get ready to head towards the pitch."

Hermione smiled, recalling the games already played and the sense of camaraderie that followed. Matches had been held between consecutive years and the winners of each round then faced the next year closest to them. Today was the final between the eighth and, to everyone's surprise, third year.

Leaving the Great Hall, Hermione glimpsed a flash of platinum blonde hair and couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped her lips as she took in Draco's Quidditch attire.

The uniform was designed with speed and agility in mind, which meant that it had the bonus feature of being especially tight. Every angle of his lithe body was on display and framed perfectly by leather pads across his broad shoulders. Her gaze began trailing down towards the shin guards hugging his muscular calves, but caught instead on one particular area a little higher up.

He spotted her staring and, noticing her flushed cheeks, gave a glorious smirk. "See something you like, Granger?"

Hermione glanced up and down the corridor. "How long do you have until the match starts?"

"The match itself isn't for a while yet, but – "

"Perfect," she interrupted and, grabbing his arm, pulled him into a nearby empty classroom.

"Granger, what are you – " Draco was cut off for a second time as the door clicked shut and Hermione moved towards him, shrugging off her robe whilst murmuring various locking and silencing charms.

Some time later, having established that the corridor was, again, empty, they slipped surreptitiously out of the classroom; Hermione making a valiant attempt to smooth her hair.

Draco sighed languidly as they walked towards the Entrance Hall and down the stone steps. "I ought to wear this uniform more often," he drawled. "In fact, I might never take it off."

"Then we'd never make it anywhere on time," she laughed, shaking her head.

He cocked an eyebrow to indicate his complete lack of concern and received an eye roll in response.

"They won't mind that you're a bit late to the practice, will they?"

Draco began to reply and then stopped abruptly, staring wide-eyed into the distance. As he turned, the enraptured look on his face made her breath catch.

"It's – it's my mother," he said and, suddenly grasping her hand, pulled them towards a tall, dark haired woman.

"Draco, maybe you should see her without me."

He kept a firm grip on her. "She's going to love you."

Hermione's heart pounded erratically as they approached Narcissa Malfoy and stopped before her. The older woman beamed and pulled her son into her arms. "Draco," she breathed.

"Mother, how are you here?"

"I believe we have Miss Granger to thank for my ability to attend today," Narcissa said, nodding politely in Hermione's direction.

Draco gaped at Hermione, his eyes were almost comically wide, and her cheeks flamed. She had assumed that her name wouldn't be brought into any discussions held.

Flustered, she struggled to put words into coherent sentences. "Oh, yes, well – well, that's fine, of course."

"Headmistress McGonagall came to tell me the Minister's decision herself," Narcissa clarified, acknowledging Hermione's discomfort. "It was very kind of you to think of me, thank you."

Her heart almost entirely stopped as Draco pulled her into a tight hug. She wiggled to get free whilst staring apologetically at Narcissa, who seemed to be pursing her lips in an attempt not to laugh at the look of anguish on Hermione's face.

"Miss Granger – "

"Please, call me Hermione."

Narcissa smiled. "I have known about your relationship with my son for quite some time now. And, whilst he ought to know better than to accost a young woman in public," she gave Draco a chastising glance, "I have no reservations about the two of you being together."

Hermione dipped her head slightly, trying to hide the surprise etched across her face. Although Draco had told her this was the case, she hadn't quite believed him. "Thank you," she said after a moment's pause.

There was a sudden burst of noise from the Quidditch pitch and the sound of cheering students filled the air. Draco glanced between Hermione and his mother, unsure whether it was acceptable for him to leave them alone together.

"Don't worry, my darling," Narcissa said, feigning innocence, "I shall only share a couple of stories about you growing up."

His expression contorted into one of panic and Hermione beamed when Narcissa began her anecdote.

As the crowd grew louder, Draco had no choice but to race towards the pitch. Turning back only once, he prayed his mother wouldn't talk about the time she caught him with a folder full of parchment he had siphoned from Hermione during their library sessions; her handwriting being the only thing he had of hers during the long summer holidays.

Following slowly along the path Draco had taken, Narcissa came to a halt and looked around pensively before gently touching Hermione's shoulder. "I'm afraid I am about to spring a difficult topic on you," she said quietly. "Ideally I would discuss such matters in a more private location, however, I felt it was important for you to hear this straight away."

There was a pause and Hermione looked at Narcissa in confusion. The older woman gently cleared her throat before continuing, "Hermione, I am deeply sorry for the horrors you were forced to endure in my home. The fact that I not only stood by, but actively prevented Draco from assisting you is something that will haunt me forever."

Hermione's mouth was dry and she swallowed, nervously licking her lips. She had not been expecting this. "I – I appreciate you saying that," she murmured. "I'm glad you protected him though, he needed that."

"You were all just children," she whispered and, from the glazed look she now wore, Hermione could sense the memories were threatening to overwhelm her.

Attempting to bring Narcissa back into the present, she gestured to the stands. "Shall we choose some seats?"

Narcissa blinked, grounding herself. "Yes, good idea, where are your parents sat?"

Their emotionally charged conversation had left Hermione feeling drained and she was horrified to feel the familiar burn of tears develop behind her eyes. "Oh, um, they're not here," was all she could manage to say.

Narcissa gave her an astute look. "What has happened, Hermione?"

She wasn't entirely sure what it was that compelled her, but found herself telling Draco's mother everything.