Chapters 101-110

Fair and Foul

Andromeda Tonks-Black sat at the desk in her study and stared morosely at the pile of parchments in front of her. Little Teddy had finally fallen asleep, and Draco was still at Grimmauld Place. She had permitted him to stay out as long as necessary, and she doubted that his interpretation of ‘necessary’would bring him back before she had to leave for work again in the morning.

She didn’t know what bothered her more about the day’s events: That Harry Potter, the hero of the wizarding world, had not trusted her to pass a fair judgement in the case of Severus Snape and Hermione Sn—Hermione Granger, that the damn boy had likely been right in his fear concerning her fairness…or the heartbroken expression in the young woman’s eyes after the guards had taken her—had taken him away.

Damn.

Hermione had looked as if the guards had taken her husband to Azkaban. A husband she could and did love deeply.

But if that was the case, if the woman truly loved Snape—never mind that he was an ex-Death Eater, ex-spy, ex-traitor and possibly a murderer, never mind that he probably deserved to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his miserable existence—then how could the Chalice of Neith have reached the verdict it did? Supposedly it was impossible to manipulate the Chalice.

But of course it had also been supposedly impossible for Voldemort to come back and reclaim a corporeal existence.

oooOooo

‘Percy, I need the Chalice of Neith in my office. Along with the complete documentation of its properties and treatments.’

‘Now?’ Percy gaped as his boss glared up at him from the dying embers of the Burrow’s kitchen-fire.

‘Yes,’ was the terse reply. ‘Now. And someone needs to come over and watch Teddy. Draco’s still at Grimmauld Place.’

oooOooo

‘Andromeda’s really examining it?’

Draco nodded. ‘She has the Chalice in her private office now, along with the complete documentation and every single scrap of parchment that mentions the Chalice even in passing. She’s put in a request for a curse breaker and an Unspeakable. ’ He swirled the firewhisky contemplatively in his glass. ‘She had to magically expand her office to accommodate the files. So yes, she is really examining the Chalice. Which means two things: one, she thinks the verdict is wrong. And two, we need more time.’

‘The only thing we don’t have,’ Hermione said bitterly. Harry had been true to his word. He had arranged an appointment with Shacklebolt and wrangled an audience for her on the day after the trial. ‘Shacklebolt has agreed to see me—in three weeks.’

She curled her fingers around her own glass of firewhisky, but its flickering liquid fire did nothing to drive the chill from her hands. ‘I’m scared that will be too late. Or too soon.’

‘You talked to Healer Mugwort, didn’t you?’

‘She—’ Hermione swallowed hard. ‘The worst case scenario she gave me was a week. Not two. Certainly not three.’

‘He’s a skilled Occlumens, maybe the best alive. That will help. And the castle at least hasn’t given up hope yet. It put me into some very nice guest quarters. But it’s very obvious that they are only that—guest quarters.’

Draco gave Hermione an encouraging smile. He had arrived at Hogwarts in the morning. As far as the wizarding world and the press were concerned, he was about to take up his apprenticeship in transfiguration with Alberic Switch along with the position as Head of Slytherin House. Only a few people in the Order and at the Ministry knew that he had only asked for temporary leave until Christmas.

‘Have you tried summoning a Patronus and sending it to him?’

Hermione lowered her gaze to her glass again. ‘I’m afraid at the moment I’m running rather low on happy memories. Or at least I can’t concentrate enough to summon more than a silvery blur or blob or something. Whatever it is, it’s not my otter.’

‘Hmm.’ Draco raised his glass towards the fire, suddenly very interested in the shades of the flames in his glass. After a while he sighed. ‘I’ve never been able to conjure up a Patronus.’

‘You’ve changed a lot,’ Hermione said abruptly. It was true. Even a year ago, she wouldn’t have believed that Draco Malfoy would ever be something like a friend to her or Harry. And now he was…both, or as close to an ally that the difference was negligible. ‘Why?’

He raised his eyebrows at her sudden change of topic, but did not reply with one of the insults that had been his trade-mark retort to unpleasant questions in past years. Instead he shrugged and stretched his long legs towards the fireplace. ‘The War, of course. Living with Aunt Andromeda. But most of all…’ He sighed contemplatively over his whisky. ‘Teddy.’

‘Teddy?’

‘Yes. I’m an only child, I never had anything to do with babies before. Go ahead and laugh—Draco Malfoy having his epiphany over a dirty diaper should be worth at least a grin.’

When she didn’t react at all, he continued. ‘Teddy’s already showing amazing control of his metamorph-magical talents, did you know that? Just a few days ago I was looking at some old photographs with him. Pictures of his father and his mother. And the next thing I know, Teddy’s transformed himself to look exactly like his father. Down to that ratty moustache.’

He glanced over at Hermione. ‘Peoplecan change, you know. Thankfully. Harry’s changed as well. He’s better about not being perfect Potter nowadays. Easier on my nerves.’

‘Do you actually enjoy politics?’

Draco shook his head. ‘Not really. But it’s something I’m good at, something I understand. Allegiances and keeping up appearances. Harry’s a quick learner, though. He won’t need my help much longer.’

‘And then what?’

He shrugged. ‘Trying to prove to the world that I’m not the foulest git alive? I really don’t know. Time will tell, I suppose.’