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Daylight	By : pepperdoc Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13120 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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In the shady interior of the mission, Hermione could almost believe she had been overreacting to the heat outside. The walls inside the building blocked out most of the sunlight from outside, but the open windows still let in the warm breezes. Primrose led the way to some stairs to one side of what appeared to be an ancient- but well maintained- altar. The building was filled with what might be described as pews, oiled faithfully over the years, their wood shining in the muted light.

“Some kids are Christians, so a priest comes weekly to preach for them. He’s blind, so he just thinks he’s in any normal church. He’s a kind man, but he always tries to convert anyone who is not of his religion.” Primrose explained as they descended the cloth covered steps.

Hermione asked, “So you’re not one, I take it?”

Primrose scoffed, turning to face Hermione in the stairwell, she said, “Of course not. The Bible says… well, look I make a rule not to talk about it. I’m aware that lots of people believe in it, but I am not one. Let’s leave it at that, ok?”

Hermione smiled and nodded. Primrose turned and continued down the circular stairs. Primrose came to the bottom first and smiled at someone around the corner Hermione couldn’t see. “Ah, Father Hauser. Guten tag.”

“Guten Morgen, Señora Hernandez.” An old and tired sounding voice answered. Hermione came around the corner and saw an old man stooped over a cane, wearing all black. When he turned she saw the notched collar and his sightless eyes.

“Hermione, this is Father Hauser.” Primrose introduced them politely. The old man shifted his weight and reached out a hand in Rose’s direction.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Hermione said stepping in front of Rose to shake his hand.

“Sorry to rush off, Father, but Hermione must meet with the Headmaster. Good day to you.” Primrose said, gently. She motioned to Hermione to follow and Hermione told the priest goodbye. As they began descending the stairs, Primrose told her, “The first floor is all student housing. We’ll have to go down a few more flights before we get to the Headmaster’s office. Got questions? Ask away.”

“You speak German?” Hermione asked.

“Yep and Spanish, Latin, French, and obviously English,” Primrose answered. “I studied Philosophy in a Muggle school while getting my teaching degree for the Magical side. I could never decide which one is more interesting.”

They came to another stairwell, this one also had covered stairs and now Hermione could see the familiar moving paintings along the walls. Some of the paintings began whispering behind them, gossiping about her, probably. “You don’t need to learn that many languages for Philosophy,” Hermione remarked.

“No, but I find it more interesting to read the ideas in the philosopher’s native tongue than to depend on a translator who might be… misunderstanding the premises.” Primrose answered stiffly.

Hermione wondered why Primrose acted so strangely about her comment, but dismissed it for the time being. “My French and German are rusty, but Latin is used in a lot of potion making. The Spanish is probably very helpful down here, right?”

Primrose seemed more relaxed as she said, “It is. It’s very hard on the children of immigrants who don’t know enough English to get by. So myself and a few other teachers who speak both offer tutoring to those students who need it. We also will teach anyone who wants to learn Spanish. Then we pair them together to try and get them used to their non-native language. Oh, hello, Anthony.” She said to a tall man going the other direction.

“Mornin’, Rose,” He answered in a deep timbre with an accent Hermione associated with Texas. He touched his forehead, making a small salute gesture to Hermione as he passed without a word to her. He looked like a cowboy to Hermione, and even was carrying a cowboy hat under his arm. He was wearing jeans and a plaid long-sleeved shirt.

“Teacher of Magical Creatures,” Rose answered Hermione’s unvoiced question. “He’s got to wrangle the horses for the student’s class tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Hermione said. They both continued downward. There was noise coming from the bottom of the stairs, a dull roar of many people talking. Hermione began to smell eggs and bacon mixed with pancakes and maple syrup, and some other scents she did not recognize. They reached the bottom and crossed a hallway leading to a dining hall, Hermione noticed. There was yet another stairwell they followed, further down. The air was becoming cooler the further they descended, but Hermione would still be more comfortable in shorts in the temperature.

Rose was taking the stairs slowly, and Hermione realized she was probably giving her time to ask questions. “So what is the Headmaster like?” She asked, and then added, “And what is his name?”

“His name is Thom Greene. He’s nice. A little crazy, though. He’s about 70 or so would be my guess. He’s a Pureblood, but he’s not crazy about admitting it. He married a Muggleborn long before it was accepted widely, and outside of his ethnicity. He’s widely viewed as being ahead of his time, which I would mostly agree with. He’s been Headmaster for about fifteen years, and has definitely helped the students a lot. He’s very interested in getting to know all of his students and staff.”

“How should I address him? My Headmaster, we called Professor Dumbledore. Is that how you would?”

“Mr. Greene is fine, he’s not too big on being proper.” Rose answered. “Mr. Malfoy was really weird about it when he first met him, is that an English thing?”

Hermione laughed, “Yes, I think it must be. Even to have your students calling you by your first name is weird.”

Primrose smiled, “I hear Mrs. Hernandez and I just get all weirded out. I’m not that much older than them. I was young to hold my position, so it’s always been a thing to me.”

“How old were you when you got the job?”

“25. Been here for three years in August. Oh!” She turned and looked at Hermione with her hand covering her mouth and her eyes wide, “I just revealed my age, the shame I’ve brought on myself!”

Hermione laughed outright and answered, “I won’t tell.”

“Good,” Rose said with a smile. They reached the bottom of the stairs and Rose turned. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at whoever was around the corner. Primrose cleared her throat loudly and Hermione heard a female cry of surprise. “Having fun are we? Detention the both of you. You, Stuart will go upstairs and find Professor Drilb and give him this,” She waved her wand and a parchment appeared before her. Another wave and the parchment floated over and out of Hermione’s line of sight.

She was curious what Rose had found but the tall woman was standing right at the bottom of the narrow steps and Hermione didn’t have enough room to get around her onto the landing.

“And, Amelia, find Mr. Garcia in the kitchens and give him this,” She made another parchment and waved it over to the girl. Rose stepped further into the room and Hermione followed finally seeing a boy roughly 17 and a girl who looked about 14, both red-faced and looking at the floor. The girl’s hair was mussed and the boy’s shirt was untucked.

“Shame on the both of you. Amelia, stay here for a second, Stuart, go find Professor Drilb.” She pointed to the stairs. The boy ran up the stairs and Rose listened to his receding footsteps for a moment. “Amelia,” She began, her tone gentle but disappointed at the same time. “Why are you making out with a boy so much older than you?”

The girl sniffled and looked up at her teacher quickly before staring at the floor once more. “Because he told me he liked me.” She answered in a tight voice.

“Do you make out with every boy who says he likes you? Is that a rule of being a teenager?”

“No, ma’am.” The girl said wiping away a tear.

Primrose put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, “I’m not telling you that you did anything wrong, but you always have to remember that some boys will take advantage of you if you’re not careful. Especially the older boys. That boy is mean to you, you just told me that last week. And now he likes you? I don’t think he really does, Amelia. If he starts spreading nasty rumors, you come see me.”

“But if I didn’t do anything wrong, why did I get detention?” The girl asked looking up at her teacher.

Primrose smiled evilly, “You didn’t. When you look at your paper, you’ll see I’ve asked my husband’s assistant to give you an ice cream.” The girl looked at the paper and smiled. “You know you shouldn’t be making out in the corridors, right?” Amelia nodded. “Go for someone closer to your age next time. And don’t be afraid to ask a boy out. You don’t seem like a shy person to me.”

“Thank you, Rose.” Amelia whispered and turned to go. She spotted Hermione and blushed anew, then began walking down the corridor behind her.

Hermione looked at Primrose with respect. “So why did the boy get detention and the girl an ice cream?” She asked.

Rose sighed. “That boy did a nearly identical trick two weeks ago on another girl. He got caught making out with her and got detention, and rather than owning up to it, he started bragging about banging the girl to the entire school. I sent him to Anthony who will make sure the boy stinks enough that no one would believe him. Come on, one more flight of stairs and we’re where we need to be.” She turned to the stairwell.

Hermione laughed, remembering Blaise Zabini getting caught snogging some girl. He had tried the same trick. Teenagers really never change, she reflected with a grin.

This stairwell was carpeted as well, and as they descended, Hermione felt like it was much colder down here. “Is it always this cold down here?” She asked Primrose.

“Yeah, there’s Cooling Charms now. Mr. Greene and Mr. Malfoy like it cold. I could make a joke about how they are so cold-hearted, but it just wouldn’t be true.” Primrose said with a laugh.

Hermione pondered this for a few minutes, Malfoy was definitely cold-hearted, from what she could remember. His sneer, bullying words and how he was always trying to get Harry killed proved that enough. Primrose had a high opinion of him though, or so it seemed. “Primrose, what do you think of Malfoy?” She asked quietly, near the bottom of the steps.

Primrose stopped walking and Hermione nearly walked into her. She looked over her shoulder at Hermione, with a raised eyebrow. “Well, that’s an interesting question,” She answered in a low voice. She leaned casually against the wall, deep in thought. “He’s brilliant, quiet, he’s kind when he wants to be, keeps to himself, and does his job. We’ve had him over for dinner a few times, and he’s a wonderful conversationalist.” She looked at Hermione and in response to her astonished face asked her, “I take it he was not like that in school?”

“No. Not at all. He was a bully and tried like hell to always be the center of attention. Are you sure he’s really Draco Malfoy?”

Primrose smiled, “Yes. He’s had a hard life since you knew him. Do you honestly think you would be described the same now as you may have been described in school?”

Hermione thought about it for a minute. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t be.”

“And do you really think he would be the same?”

“Well, yes. He’s a rich boy. They don’t change their stripes.”

Primrose raised an eyebrow, “Well, maybe he was never really a rich boy, then,” She turned and continued down the steps, apparently considering the matter closed.

Hermione absently followed suit, considering what Primrose had meant. Could it be that Lucius was not as influential as he acted? She remembered Buckbeak and Lucius’ involvement in his trial. She thought about how easily Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss. She had always thought their trial had gone too easily and had chalked it up to Lucius’ frozen assets. Maybe that wasn’t so true. She made a mental vow to think about it later.

However, given that Primrose was the only person offering a differing opinion from her own, she decided that it would be too hasty of a decision to simply believe the tall witch. If she didn’t hear it from multiple sources, she reasoned, then it’s only one opinion which holds no merit in light of the massive amounts of evidence she could bring up to the contrary. She nodded to herself in satisfaction at her decision.

She saw that Primrose, a few steps ahead of her, had reached the bottom and was smiling at whoever was around the corner. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Malfoy.” Primrose said at the bottom of the steps. “We were just talking about you.” Again Rose stood at the bottom of the steps, blocking Hermione from entering the room. She was nervous to see Malfoy again, unsure of what to think about the strange situation she found herself.

“That’s never a good thing, in my experience,” Came Malfoy’s familiar drawling response. “Who, pray tell is ‘we’, Mrs. Hernandez?”

“If you can believe it, an old schoolmate of yours. May I re-introduce you to Hermione Granger?”

Hermione stepped off the stair as Primrose said her name, trying not to laugh at Primrose’s absurd introduction. She watched Malfoy stand, towering over his desk. His hair had an air of being brushed back over his ear recently. Hermione noted it was still as blonde as she remembered it. His face was hard, unreadable, but his eyebrows were raised in what was probably shock. He was wearing a long sleeved silky looking button-up shirt and still had a quill in his hand as he stared at her for a few seconds.

She stared back, trying to keep her face blank and resisting the urge to flatten her hair down with her hand. She was self-conscious about her hair because of all the snide comments he had always made about her unruly mane. She had long ago chopped it to be just touching her shoulders and invested in potions to make it silky and wavy. She styled it now so it was elegantly framing her face.

She was still holding her jumper over her arm, she had meant to put it on before reaching the bottom of the stairs, but the conversation she just finished with Primrose had driven the thought out of her mind. Now she wished she had, she felt uncomfortable at being so bare in front of him. Her camisole showed her curves, but his intense stare made her feel all but naked before him.

“Well, this is unexpected. Ms. Granger.” He nodded while saying her surname.

“For the both of us, I assure you, Mr. Malfoy.” She said, nodding to him in return.

Primrose seemed to notice the uncomfortable greeting and broke in, “Is Mr. Greene in? We need to discuss Miss Granger’s… situation.” She emphasized the ‘Miss” slightly, probably trying to correct Malfoy, Hermione thought.

“He is,” Malfoy said, still looking at Hermione. “Let me show you in.”

He stood straight and put his quill down, looking at it like it was foreign to him. Turning toward the hallway, he led them down to a pair of large oak doors. He knocked once and then opened both doors before him.

“Mr. Greene, Mrs. Hernandez and Miss Granger are here to see you.” He stood to the side, respectfully. Hermione followed Primrose into the room which was covered in books and artifacts on shelves built into the wall.

There was a large painting of a Wizard behind the desk with the chair facing it. The painting watched them enter and looked down at the chair, “We shall continue this discussion later, I hope, Thom?” The wizard in the painting said. At the chair’s occupant’s response, he stood from his chair and walked out of the frame.

The chair turned to reveal a very short old man with small tufts of hair poking straight out from under his hat. He was dressed in canary yellow robes with a matching pointed hat. “Rosie!” He said with a grin. His voice was very high pitched.

Through her answering grin, she whispered to Hermione, “I hate being called Rosie.”

Thom was getting up from his chair with some difficulty. Hermione wanted to ask if he needed help, but thought it might be rude. He managed it and said to Malfoy, “Come in, young man, sit in on the meeting, please. I have a feeling you might have some input.”

Malfoy nodded and closed the doors. Mr. Green walked around the table and stood before the two women, barely reaching Hermione’s navel. He held out his hand to Hermione and told her with a grin, “Miss Granger it’s nice to meet you. What brings you to my door? Here have a seat.” He motioned to the chairs behind him.

Malfoy came around and pulled out the chair for Rose and Hermione in turn. Hermione tried not to think about it. Rose had said several times that he was very proper, and in Britain, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. She gave Malfoy a brief smile before sitting, his expression was the same, hard and unreadable.

Mr. Greene walked around the desk again and got back on the chair with the aid of a step stool, Hermione noticed. Malfoy waved his wand and a tray with water and some candies in a bowl appeared on the desk. Then he sat down in a chair next to the Headmaster’s desk. He seemed tense, or maybe he was just naturally stiff, Hermione thought, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

Hermione watched all of this and then when everyone was settled, she told the Headmaster about the circumstances of her arrival in America.

Both Mr. Green and Malfoy were frowning by the end of her short tale, Mr. Green said, “Well, it’s fortunate indeed that you found your wand, of course. But you have no memory of how you transported between here and Edinburgh?”

“None at all, sir. I heard a strange voice and then I woke up next to the campfire.”

“You said there was no charring on the trees?” Malfoy asked.

“None at all.” Hermione answered, expecting him to challenge her on it.

“Well, this does seem all too familiar, doesn’t it, Draco?” The Headmaster asked bemusedly.

“What do you mean, sir?” Hermione asked.

“These are very similar circumstances to how Draco here arrived in Texas, also. Even going to Edinburgh and the memory loss.” Mr. Greene told her nodding sadly.

“But, are you saying I can’t go back?” She asked, shocked.

“Oh, you can go back. We just have to get a clearance for apparition from the Director’s office. That will take about a week.” Malfoy answered.

Hermione sighed in relief.

“But if someone attacked you, and the Aurors think it best for you to stay, of course you are welcome to,” Mr. Greene told her.

“Thank you,” Hermione said in a confused voice.

“So, we’ll send out an owl to the Director’s office and another to the Aurors. They have faster means of communication with their British counterparts than we do,” Malfoy explained. “Do you need to get a hold of your boss or anything like that?”

She looked at him, “Well, I was on vacation from work, so I’ll just need to get a hold of them tomorrow and let them know I may have to extend it. I should probably try to get in touch with the people I had planned to visit this week and cancel…” She said, the last mostly to herself.

“I… Have a number to get in contact with Zabini, he can send out owls for you in Britain, if that helps.” Malfoy offered uncertainly, glancing at his boss.

Hermione gathered this was some information he did not want to discuss in depth, so she nodded and told him, “Thank you,” quietly.

“Well, we will have to make sure your stay is comfortable. Of course we have rooms available on the second floor. I’ll call an elf. Someone can probably take you into town if you need anything. I do hope that you will come dine at my table this evening, so I might get to know you a bit.” Thom said kindly. “Oh, and you can call me Thom, since I’m not your boss,” He added with a laugh.

She accepted the offer for dinner and Thom called an elf that showed her to the second floor. Primrose told her she would see her later in the day and Hermione settled into the room she had been given.

It was a stone lined room which had brightly colored blankets on the bed. The weave of the blanket was rough and there were reds, yellows, greens and blues in wide stripes. The wooden bedframe was plainly carved pine, and unvarnished, matching the dresser and nightstand. There were some decorations on the walls, mostly wrought iron worked in shapes like horses and one was of a rose. The rug on the floor was similar to the blanket but with more muted colors. It was plainly furnished, but still nice. Hermione debated changing the furniture to the kind like she was used to, but decided that she liked it the way it was. A glance at the clock and a quick calculation, her body clock was still insisting it was nearly time for her supper. The clock on the wall said it was only eleven in the morning.

She put her jumper on the dresser and glanced at her face in the mirror. In the reflection, she noticed a Muggle style lamp on the nightstand. Looking around, she was pleased to find electric lights rather than candles in all the lighting fixtures around the room. It made her able to imagine she was just in a hotel, and on vacation again. Not that there was an obvious enemy after her and that she could not leave until she had permission.

She lay down on top of the blanket and thought again to the strange situation she was in. No one seemed too concerned about what was going on. She reasoned that it was to keep her from worrying about it. That was not part of her personality, though. She was a worrier by nature.

She wondered who would want her out of England. Malfoy was transported the same way. In the same place. To the same place… she wondered about that. Why did he stay, though? Was he even wanted for crimes? She couldn’t remember. She allowed her mind to wander as her eyes slipped shut.

After the war she had gone into hiding with Ron for a while. She just did not want the attention. She stayed away from the papers, since all they reported on was the hearings of the Death Eaters and the efforts of Harry to do the right thing for as many people as he could. In hiding, she could never find peace, though. She and Ron were different people. He wanted to go back to his family and ride on their wave of victory, to put it in simplest terms. There was a lot more to it, but Hermione rarely thought about it anymore. Their relationship had only lasted a year after the Final Battle, and they remained distant friends.

Now, she had no boyfriend and was glad for it. She didn’t have to answer to anyone other than herself. Even her boss allowed her to do as she pleased. Cho Chang had hired her as an aide to her law practice in Ireland, so Hermione was mostly researching for the beautiful girl who had once been Harry’s crush.

She led a quiet life with few friends. She didn’t really need to work, financially. Her role in the war had granted her millions of Galleons from several huge outpourings of thanks from the Wizarding community. The frozen assets of the Purebloods who were incarcerated also had been divided among the entire Hogwarts body, with the largest portions of the shares going to her, Ron and Harry.

She had tried to refuse the money, thinking she didn’t really deserve anything like that, but the look on Ron’s face had stopped her words. She learned later that the gifts and money she received were expected in the Wizarding community. So she was fairly wealthy. But all of her wealth was in England. She had no access to it in America.

She floated into a deep slumber without intending to.

A quick knocking sound broke through the silence of her mind and her consciousness swam upwards to the light shining through her closed lids. The door opened before she opened her eyes and Malfoy was saying, “I’ve been sent to, oh, sorry.”

She opened her eyes as he apologized for his intrusion, “Its ok, I must have dozed off. What were you saying?” She yawned once she finished her question.

“I’ve been sent to make sure you didn’t want lunch. Service started about 45 minutes ago, and nearly everyone is done already,” He was standing at the door still, awkwardly holding the doorknob. His eyes were diverted from looking directly at her. Recognizing his discomfort, and suddenly realizing the improper position she was in, she forced herself into a sitting position.

Running her fingers through her hair, she answered, “Thank you, yes, I should get something to eat.” She stood. She glanced at herself in the mirror over the dresser, shrugged on her sweater again and turned back to him. He was watching her with an eyebrow raised. She gave him a thin smile and asked, “What is it?”

“Your hair is so different,” He answered without changing his expression.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “It is,” She answered blandly, preparing for a backhanded compliment.

He cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Follow me, I’ll show you to the cafeteria.”

She felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but didn’t comment. He turned and led her to the cafeteria without saying another word.

A/N: Ok, there, got some background out of the way. Draco’s sorta awkward… but he will give us some information soon. A run-in with an old friend might be coming in the next chapter, or the one after that. Who's old friend? Which old friend? I'm keeping that a secret for now!

Thank you very much to all of my reviewers, your compliments really do mean a lot to me. I’m debating starting a discussion thread in the forum, if you review let me know if you think it’s needed…

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