Chapter 9 : Chapter nine
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A strange dream had awoken him from his sleep; a woman had entered his house and then removed her face to reveal another woman underneath.
Then he remembered Granger who was probably still sleeping in the room next door.
He dressed in silence, carefully making sure that he looked immaculate; ending two cases in one go meant that he needed to look somewhat respectable. This could mean that the respect that he had lost in his youth could be regained.
After all it wasn’t every day that you saved a member of the ‘Golden Trio’ from a dark wizard.
Following one last check in the mirror and the removal of a stray hair from his lapel, Draco left his room to take a stroll.
The air was crisp and the sky was licked with the bright colours of the rising sun, he walked through the faultless rose garden and out onto the large expanse of lawn. The dew was glinting in the morning light and it seemed that the very grass was frosted with diamonds. Taking in the vista Draco walked on through the damp grass and towards a line of dense trees.
Once on the other side of the trees he stopped to observe the scene. The family mausoleum was covered in ivy; the tombs of his forebears were littered around the small plot.
The mausoleum had been built by his grandfather for the event of his death and then for his son and his daughter in-law. It was a grim idea and his grandfather had even his is wife exhumed so that she could be place in the crypt next to his waiting tomb.
Placing his hand on the hard stone door Draco waited for it to open for him. It was much like the magic the goblins of Gringots used for the vault security, except this magic only allowed those of the Malfoy family to enter.
“If I die childless then I will not be able to be buried here.” Draco muttered as the door opened.
The building was domed and had ionic columns which were entwined with snakes. Marble covered every surface and it seemed that a family of pigeons had made a home high up on a ledge.
His grandparents lay in marble form on a ledge to his left. Their marble figures had been created in their image and laid to rest much in the manor of Royalty.
Draco looked at them, lying next to each other, with a look of noninterest. It was rumour that only twice in their life had his grandparents laid next to each other. Once to consummate their marriage and conceived his father and the other as corpses. He was glad that he had never met his grandmother and barely knew his grandfather; if they could produce such a child like his father it was better for him that way.
Then Draco turned away from his grandparents and walked towards his parents.
His mother had been first to die, after spending two years in Azkaban she was greatly weakened and released on parole. Draco had seen that she had the best care available and she recovered and spent the next two years happily avoiding the dining room and the drawing room. Then one day he returned home to find that one of the nurses he had employed had killed his mother. Initially he was numb with pain; it was like his body had gone into lock down. Then he became very very very angry. There was a trial and the nurse was sent down for life.
It had turned out that the nurse blamed his mother for the death of her family; all eleven of them. Draco understood this kind of violence, he had seen it, but yet there was a voice in his head which for the first time he was listening too. Revenge was wrong and never solved problems.
His mother was laying there, here carved hair draped over the stone pillow and her haughty looks captured precisely. His mother was exactly how he had remembered her when he had first gone to school. She had chosen to be carved in that image to comfort Draco; in reality it made him feel lonely.
Then Draco turned to his father’s form.
Draco’s father had not gone quietly. His father had spent the remainder of his years in a cell in Azkaban with chatty House Elf for company (under the new Equality act, elves had equal rights in the eyes of the law as wizards). After going slightly mad from the elf Draco’s father had been moved to the high security ward in St Mungo’s where he made a new will which meant that in order for Draco to inherit the Malfoy wealth he had to marry a pure blood.
This didn’t take long for the Goyle’s to get involved and soon Draco married Ms Goyle. He hadn’t objected as it was a simple deal and she would soon be out of his life.
His father’s form had been created to be of a similar age to his mothers, in his right hand was his cane and this with held up to his chest. Draco had placed his father’s actual wand and cane in the stone hand. This was Draco’s spare wand in case of an emergency as he had, before his father had died, taken the wand from Lucius.
Then he turned to the final shelf, which was empty, above it though was inscribed his name and date of birth. Ever since he was a little boy, Draco, had know that this was where he would end his days. But he could not be sure if he was to lie alone for the rest of eternity. One thing he was certain of was that no Goyle, past or present or by previous marriage, would ever lie in his family mausoleum.
In the middle of the room there was a small column and a circular stand on the top of it. In this stand there were four wands each belonged to the four inhabitants of the room (one was a replacement). One day Draco’s wand would join those of his parents and grandparents that was if he reproduced and continued the family line.
Looking at his watch he realised that he had spent far too long in the house of his dead family, so he returned to the house to wake Granger.
There was a knock on the door.
“Granger are you ready?” it was Malfoy.
Hermione stood up from her seated position on the large bed. She had been up for about half an hour and had dressed herself in the clothes that had been provided.
Stepping to the door she opened it and waited for him to comment on her new face.
“Ah, well I see that you would rather walk into the Ministry. Wise choice, come on we will get breakfast on the way.” He said offering his arm to Hermione.
“So you want me to touch you?” she said sceptically
“Needs must and plus you might get me a pay rise.” He said smiling sarcastically at her,
After a moment’s hesitation Hermione took hold of his arm and they popped out of existence.
They landed back in existence only a few seconds later in the middle of Diagon Alley. No one paid the couple any attention as many other people were doing the same thing.
Malfoy hurried over to a street vendor who had only just opened up and bought two pastries.
“Here, eat it.” He said shoving the food into Hermione’s hands.
Begrudgingly she at it and then they were off again, this time Hermione was more inclined to go with him.
When they entered the Atrium Hermione was struck by how little had changed; the only change was the large statue that was in the middle of the fountain.
The fountain consisted of the same statues that were there pervious to Voldermorts reign, but they were all stood on and equal platform of gold. The water still spurted from the two wands, the arrow of the centaur’s bow and the other places. The gold light danced around the vast room, shimmering on the walls and reflecting in the water.
As Hermione and Malfoy walked through the Atrium a few heads started to turn, and then a slight whisper began to spread across that vast and bustling room.
“Is that Hermione Granger?” Hermione heard one very talk man distinctly whisper to his companion.
Draco and Hermione quickly made their way through the vast hall and towards one of the lifts.
“Here, hide in this.”
Granger placed the paper in front of her face white Draco exchanged pleasantries with several of his fellow employees.
When they reached the floor Draco took Granger by her arm and pulled her out of the crammed lift.
“Here we are, are you ready?” he asked folding the paper,
“I suppose.” She said her voice over calm.
They walked through the door together and briskly to the other end of the department.
Draco knocked on the door labelled Head.
“Hello Sir, I have someone who needs to speak to you.”
Draco opened the door to reveal Hermione Granger who was almost cowering in front of her friend.
She looked up from the ground, in front of Hermione sat a man. He was well dressed, well built and had a mop of half tamed black hair. He wore a set of round glasses and on his forehead he bore a scar. If you were to look on his left hand you would have found a scar reading: I must not tell lies. And as Hermione knew you would not find a large tattoo of a Phoenix across his chest. It was unmistakably Harry Potter.
“Hermione, is that you?” Harry asked, getting up quickly from behind his desk and coming to examine the woman in front of him.
“Why now?” he asked confused, “You have had so long to get in contact. We just left you to it, but we have missed you so much...why are you with him?”
“Harry, it’s a long story and you need to hear it so you can call off a man hunt.” Hermione said, sighing and sitting down in the chair opposite Harry’s desk.
“So let me get this straight, you have lived as this Anna Jane Waterson since the end of the war. What about your parents?” Harry asked, his brow furrowed.
“It was simple to plant fake memories in their heads, and it was only changing their surname, we moved and my dad set up a shop.” Hermione said simply.
“Where are they now?” Harry questioned.
“Dead, Dad five years ago and Mum last year.” She said with little emotion.
“I’m sorry,” there was an awkward pause where Malfoy shifted softly in his seat.
“Well I have to put it to you, you managed to slip away completely. A new wand, fake files at the ministry... how?” Harry said turning to look at her in a different way.
“I went to buy the new wand from the cheaper shop on Diagon Alley, I claimed that I had accidently incinerated my last one and needed a new one. Once I had purchased said item I then registered it under my new name. That is one of the biggest loopholes in the system.” Hermione said calmly,
“That’s actually quite cleaver.” Malfoy butted in,
Hermione rolled her eyes but chose not to make any comments.
“But why, why did you leave?” Harry asked, returning to the subject at hand.
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