Chapter 13

Unpredictably Changeable

August had started out very hot, which was not all together unusual, but then the weather turned rather cold at night and unpredictable during the day. There were frequent thunderstorms and heavy downpours in places with dry and warm intervals, generally cool and cloudy in the evenings. Because of the intermittent weather, Hermione had started taking a light jacket with her, carrying a magically enhanced umbrella that didn't turn inside-out in the wind, and wore heavy boots to work, keeping her nice, black work shoes in her desk drawer. Her coat rack had a warm coat, a thick cloak, a hooded jacket, and two spare robes. She even kept a spare dress, nice moderate-heeled pumps, and sheer stockings for unexpected meetings.

Harry teased her about having moved into her office; however, considering that she didn't own a lot of clothes, it wasn't too far from the truth. In less than a month and a half, Ernest had come to rely on Hermione for a myriad of things, mostly as a second opinion on anything that recently crossed his desk, and included her in all his department meetings. She had even gone out in the field for him because, as it turned out, Ernest was allergic to practically everything: dust, pollen, mould, grasses, fur, feathers, eggs, nuts, berries, wheat, and shellfish to name a few.

Hermione and Samantha Susseckle, a witty Irish brunette from the Mermish Liaison office, had gone out to Bala Lake in Gwynedd, North Wales to follow up on a commotion regarding a kelpie sighting, or as the Muggles called her...a loch monster sighting, on the lake. Bala Lake was unique in that the River Dee ran through it, and it had been the largest natural body of water in Wales prior to the level being raised by Thomas Telford to help support the flow of the Ellesmere Canal. Because of the canal and the unique geography of River Dee, Bala Lake was subject to sudden and dangerous floods. The waters of the lake were also famously deep and clear and home to three magical species: the home of a clan of merpeople, the very rare mollusk, Myxas glutinosa, otherwise known as the Glutinous snail...a rare and highly prized potion ingredient...and since the late spring of 1920, it was also the home of a kelpie affectionately named Teggie by the locals. Unfortunately, the Ministry struggled to maintain the secrecy of the merpeople and the kelpie, but the Muggle authorities and local residents continually strived to perpetuate the fame of their lake monster for the sake of tourism. And, of course, Teggie loved the attention.

However, after a very wet June, and several dangerous floodings of the River Dee, the merpeople were more active than usual, and Teggie had decided to show herself again – several times. Hermione and Samantha had met up with Alan Phinney and Peter Fish from the Ministry's Water Wildlife Protection Unit to assess if there was any breach of secrecy and to handle any unwanted publicity. Thankfully, Teggie hadn't been properly photographed, only a few, rather blurry vacation photos of a few dark shadows and some ripples on the lake. However, one of them looked like a capsized boat with a wake that was causing quite a stir, even after Peter Fish had proven that it was, in fact, a capsized boat; one he'd magically put in the lake for the authorities to pull out after the picture had been taken.

Hermione and Samantha entered the Ministry atrium and walked to the lifts as they headed to the office to give Ernest their report. As the girls approached the open office door, Hermione heard the voice of Aaron Barthelemy from the Werewolf Liaison office, giving his report on a problem he had with two registered werewolves.

"... had been caught cheating at the Cork County games in Armagh. Something called Road Bowls, or I think the local blokes called it Long Bullets. Anyway, it's each player throws an eight-hundred gram bowl, or bullet...I think that's what the locals call it...along a country road course, up to four kilometers long, and the fewest throws to traverse the distance wins the contest. One werewolf, Reginald Blane, he had apparently been using the Repelling Charm to make his iron bullet bowl hurl around the designated country lanes while his mate, Thomas Spent, made an exuberant amount of wagers on Bowl Odds, thus making a reasonable fortune."

"What?" Ernest asked. "Those two haven't caused trouble before."

"They made at least nine hundred Muggle pounds."

Ernest looked up, saw Hermione and waved her in. "That's enough to provide new clothes and food for several months," she replied sitting down. Hermione knew Reginald and Thomas and felt sorry for the men. These two were normally residents in Draperstown, near the Sperrin Mountains in Armagh, and were quiet, withdrawn men, relying on fishing and foraging for food.

"They agreed to relinquish the small trophy and agreed to do community service for nine months to atone for their misdeeds," Aaron stated, looking at Hermione with a sideways glance. "I tried to make them return the monies, but they claimed to no longer have it. Supposedly they bought food and new clothes."

"But isn't that reasonable?" Hermione asked. "I don't mean cheating at the games...that's wrong, but they were only obviously trying to find a way to feed and clothe themselves. The only other solution would be to help the men find jobs."

Aaron was incensed. "You can't be serious! I can't find them jobs! They're werewolves for crying out loud!"

Hermione rounded on him. "These laws are so unfair! First, they can't work to make an honest wage so they are condemned to a life of vagabonds, forced to steal or scavenge for food and clothes, or to find any means necessary to survive. Then the Ministry comes and levies fines on them...which they can't pay...so we are forced to have the Werewolf Hit Squad go and arrest them." She took a deep breath to calm herself. "I am trying to help these men! I know them. They are nice guys who lock themselves up in a self-dug basement during the full moon. Did you see how they live? In a one-room shack with clothes so old I wouldn't use them as rags. And, they are starving. So making them pay a fine is a joke, and I'm tired of having werewolves arrested for trying to find ways to eat!"

"But they're breaking the law!" Aaron argued.

"Neither one of these men have bitten anyone...ever!"

"Quiet you two!" Ernest shouted to gain their attention and held up his hand to keep Hermione from speaking. "I know you were friends with Remus Lupin. Fine, Hermione, write me a proposal...a viable proposal...that would enable them to give up gambling as a way to earn money for bread and new shoes, and I'll sign it. Aaron, find them a job...any job. Let them grow potatoes, carrots, or something. Let them breed...I dunno...rabbits or those dwarf Abraxans the wizarding families love so much."

"You agree with her?" Aaron asked, falling back in his chair in shock.

"I agree with Hermione that if you pass laws that take away a man's ability to provide for himself, you then force him to take matters into his hands to find a way to eat and survive," Ernest stated, looking warily at Aaron. "I have tried for years to change the law to allow them to have jobs and own homes in remote areas so they can be viable, productive members of the community and not thieving outcasts. Hermione is right, these two werewolves have built a basement that they can lock themselves into each month. That shows a desire to keep themselves away from others when they are dangerous so they don't attack anyone."

"Yes, that's true. There hasn't been a single case of werewolf attack in Draperstown or anywhere in Armagh in years...well since when Blane and Spent had been attacked." Aaron lowered his gaze to his hands. "I'll see what I can do."

"And, Hermione," Ernest said with a sigh, "you cannot single handedly take on every cause in the office."

Hermione blushed, saying, "Yes, sir, I know."

While Aaron muttered, "No, only half of them."

Hermione gave him a sharp look, adding, "But it's just so unfair..."

"Enough," Ernest said, holding up his hand. "What happened in Bala with the Tegid Kelpie?"

Ginny was trying so hard not to laugh as she read the letter that had arrived by owl that morning. "Harry, I don't think Draco has ever written an apology before in his life," she managed to say in a calm rational, laugh free voice. "So I'm sure writing this one was quite a challenge for him."

Harry scrunched his face and rested his chin on his fists at the table in the kitchen. "This is his response to my letter asking the git where he ever got the idea I'd want to have dinner with him...in his house!"

"What did you tell him?" Ginny asked, looking at him warily.

"Pretty much that," he answered her, then looked abashed at her angry glare. "I didn't put in the git part, only that we were hardly friends."

"How many times has he written you?" she asked.

Harry looked away. "For a month now...I dunno, six, maybe seven letters."

"And you wrote him back, didn't you?" she asked, looking at him incredulously.

"Once or twice. What?" He held his palms up, his elbows resting on the table. "We weren't fiends...ever! He was a right git to me all through school!"

"Harry James Potter! People change!" she snapped. "At least he's trying to make an effort now."

He wondered what had her wand in a knot. "What? He never really admitted to being in the wrong. He only said that after his stint in Azkaban and his memory-reviewing interrogation during his confession, he realized that he had been ignorant to many things."

"Show me his letters," she demanded with a stern expression that reminded him of her mum.

Harry knew better than to continue the argument when she was being so unreasonable. He asked Kreacher to get them for him and handed them to Ginny. She read each one, sighing or shaking her head, occasionally smiling and then biting her lip... He tried to read her expressions, wondering why she seemed interested in Draco's invitations.

"I dunno, he also states that having housed You-Know-Who and being in such close personal proximity to him, he saw firsthand how demented the wizard really was and fully regretted taking the Dark Mark. That has to account for something," Ginny argued, glancing at the neat penmanship of the letter. "It even looks like he took his time writing this."

"Do you really want to go have dinner at Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked, dropping his hands to the table. "The guy is a prejudiced git!"

"People can change! Don't you remember me telling you in my letters how different Draco was? Remember how in September, Hermione wrote to you that Draco stood up for her down in the dungeons, and all last year he was actually nice...working with us to fight against these ridiculous laws the S.H.R.M.C. was passing. He even took us to his house to search his library."

"Yeah, I'm sure that wasn't self-serving and... What?" he asked when Ginny scowled at him.

"Look, he was different this year; he even called me Ginny," she stated undeterred. "He befriended Hermione, was polite to Luna, Bernice, and Shelia... and many of the other Muggle-borns. He told me he'd realized that the old adages that he'd lived by, the old prejudices, were incredibly short sighted. Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy isn't the superficial git he was before the war...the war changed him...considerably!" She got up and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, reaching out a hand to try and stop her.

"To tell him we accept," she said as she left the room.

"YOU CANNOT REALLY MEAN TO EAT OVER THERE?" he shouted after her.

Ginny popped her head back around the doorframe. "Yes, I do, and so are you."

"But, Gin," he whined, rising up from the table to intercept her before she sent a reply by owl.

"Besides, like it or not, he's not a bad guy to know once you..."

"Get past his spoiled rotten git side, right?" he finished for her.

"Yeah, once you get past all that, he's actually rather charming when he wants to be," she replied as she drafted a quick acceptance to dinner.

"Fine, we'll have dinner with the ferret," he said as Ginny tied the letter to his Snowy owl.

"Whatever you say, scarhead," she replied with a warm satisfied smile.

Ginny Weasley had replied to his invitation to dinner. It was unexpected, having her attend, but a nice added bonus. Ginny was Hermione's closest friend beside Harry and Ron. Draco tried saying the names out loud to get used to using Potter's first name. It felt odd, after years of calling him Potter, or much worse.

His house-elves were under instructions to cook a meal similar to one from school, a good hearty meal and nothing too elaborate since Draco had no idea what Harry liked to eat. At present, Draco was deciding whether to use the dining room or set up dinner in one of the sitting rooms as he searched through his wardrobe. He didn't want to use the huge dining room table. Draco still had nightmares that involved that table. He definitely wanted to show Harry the Quidditch pitch on his grounds, but the nights were still too cold to fly comfortably.

He'd selected his dark red robes, trimmed with subtle silver threadwork, not quite Gryffindor red by any stretch of the imagination, but still red. He was searching through his drawer for that silver belt buckle that Pansy had given him... the one with turquoise on it from Sedona, and the turquoise and silver cloak clasp she'd given him at Christmas to complement it. The Muggle silver buckle would do well if he was supposed to be showing that he'd changed his mind about Muggles. Draco pulled them out and laid them on his robe. It was a bit off, but not totally unacceptable. With a lightweight black turtleneck and black trousers, he would look good, not that he didn't always look good.

He picked up the Daily Prophet he'd tossed on the bed and stared at the headlines on the front page.

Lucius Malfoy, Confirmed Death Eater, To Be Released Monday

The first picture showed his father after his initial questioning: mud streaked hair, cut lip, black eye, bruised cheek, with a neck brace, and a Muggle cast on his left hand, holding his prisoner ID card...an image of his once proud father, beaten and broken by the Azkaban guards. The second article was of Lucius, emaciated thin from poor food, pale from lack of light and dirty from lack of proper grooming, sitting in the interrogation chair with the Pensieve in front of him, a long silver memory strand being pulled from his temple.

Lucius Malfoy: Remorseful Death Eater or Skillfully Acted Charade?

Lucius Malfoy claims that he'd known what You-Know-Who was like, and he would have never rejoined him except for the fear he had for the safety of his wife and son. He regretted ever getting involved with You-Know-Who in the first place, but he hadn't had any choice. "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, there was no recanting. Those who tried were killed..."

Draco couldn't stomach reading the article; he remembered all too well the punishments for betrayal, disloyalty, or abandonment. That and the image his father withdrawing the memory strand and the Pensieve was enough to make Draco's skin crawl and get prickly with goose-flesh and make his palms sweaty... even his lips sweated at the memory.

Money Can Buy Anything – Even An Acquittal

The last article made him grind his teeth. It insinuated that Draco had bribed Harry, Hermione, and their friends to lie on his father's behalf. He'd wanted to write a rebuttal, but his solicitor had warned him against it. Anything he said would be misconstrued and would only darken the name of Malfoy further. Besides, the Prophet was known for getting things wrong anyway.

Draco dressed, combed out his hair and checked his appearance before heading down to greet his guests. He passed by the dining room and called for a house-elf. "Set up dinner here, but at one end. I want this to be informal and personal. Also, serve the meal family style like they did at Hogwarts and use the glass goblets from Spain." That will be casual enough.

"Yes, master," the elf replied and vanished.

He surveyed the room and walked over to the nearest portrait. He'd replaced Abraxas Malfoy for his great-great-grandmother, Clarisse Mignonette Malfoy, and his great-grandfather, Nicholas Deveran Malfoy, and a family portrait of his mum, dad, and himself. "Now, please don't scowl or frown at my guests. This is a very important night to reclaim the Malfoy name. The Dark Lo...he fell and this is the bloke who vanquished him. Great-great-grandmother Clarisse, you set the standard of Malfoy hospitality for generations, and I need your example of charm and graciousness tonight," he implored her.

The elegantly coifed woman smiled at him and nodded serenely.

He turned to face his own family. "And, Mum, I really need you to show that same hospitality. Please, this is for all our sakes."

Narcissa sat up straighter and Lucius squared his shoulders. "We know how to address a guest, Draco," Lucius said from his frame.

"And, a guest in this house will be afforded every courtesy and respect that our position and social standing demands of us as hosts, and we will honor the name of Malfoy by our example," Clarisse said loftily from her frame to Lucius. "You'll smile, young man, and be serene and proud, but you will not embarrass me. Is that clear?"

Lucius's image nodded politely to the one-time Malfoy matriarch.

An elf appeared next to Draco and bowed deeply. "Master, the guests is arrives at the gate, sir."

He turned and walked into the foyer to greet them. Harry followed Ginny in and helped her to remove her cloak. "Harry, Ginny, thank you for coming," Draco said and indicated a bench on the side of the room. "You may place your cloaks on there, and the house-elves will tend to them.

Ginny was looking around, but Harry didn't take his eyes off Draco.

"Dinner will be a while, but if you like I can show you around?" Draco offered to break the ice.

"I'd love that, Draco," Ginny said. "I read that your great-grandmother bred exotic orchidaceae and bromeliads."

Draco smiled. This is perfect. The solarium where the orchids and bromeliads grew had a wonderful view of the grounds and from the top of the enclosure where the high-canopy bromeliads were, one could see the Quidditch pitch. "Yes, she was famous for them," he said and held up his hand for her to follow him. "Mother was also quite fond of Lady's slipper orchids and Cymbidiums. Her sunroom has a selection of her favorites, many that are in bloom now."

He and Ginny talked about cultivating orchids, although she knew far more about it than he did. She was pleased by the sunroom that led to the solarium. The solarium was an enormous room with a huge magical tree in the center. The trunk had crevasses, twists, knots, and even supported shelves that were home to many of the varieties of his family's orchid and bromeliad collection. Two-thirds of the walls surrounding the room were glass with a multi-tiered waterfall on the wall, creating a mist, many small pools, and a pleasing sound. Small exotic birds fluttered about and sang as they walked up the curving staircase. The staircase even passed behind the waterfalls and along small pools containing tiny fish and exotic water plants as they climbed.

At the top, Ginny turned to survey the scenic view. "Oh, Draco, this is amazing!"

"That's the Abraxan stables over there, the magical herbal garden you see in Magical Home and Garden occasionally. Tildon Toots and Mum are friendly. The swan pond... witches like having their wedding pictures taken there, and in the back in this direction," he said, turning slightly, "you can make out the Quidditch pitch."

"Very impressive, Malfoy," Harry said, watching some fairies frolicking in the water or resting on lily pads at the top of the waterfall. Ginny gave him a stern look. "Is it a full regulation or a half pitch?" he added to sound more conversational.

Draco chose to ignore Harry's tone. "Full regulation. The Tornados used the pitch when they had that fire that burned down theirs," he said, crossing his arms.

"Bet you loved flying with them, didn't you?" Harry asked, turning to look out the window.

Draco chuckled softly. "Yeah, I did. What seven-year-old wouldn't want to fly on the broom with a famous Beater?" Harry turned to look at him. "I snuck down against my mum's wishes and sat on the stands to watch."

"That's dangerous!" Ginny said in awe. "Didn't one of the team managers or the captain send you off?" Harry looked at her, a deep furrow between his brows. "Bludgers. They're charmed to seek out warm bodies, preferably moving ones... That's why kids cannot be in the stands without an adult witch or wizard. Kids make good targets for the iron balls."

"That's what I found out. I nearly got bludgered and had to be rescued. Dad really yelled at me for that one," Draco said with a smile as he recalled how red his father's face had gotten. "I had to ask permission after that, and one of the managers did sit with me from then on." The sound of a small bell rang out. "Oh, good, dinner's ready to be served. Shall we?"

"So, you're a Tornado fan then?" Harry asked as he followed Draco down the stairs.

"I have always liked the Magpies, actually. Goyle likes the Harpies, and we go to all the games," Draco said over his shoulder. "How about you? Do you have a favorite team now?"

Harry shrugged. "Ron supports the Cannons, and Wood now flies for Puddlemere United."

"Puddlemere is playing against Ballycastle next week, I think. I could get us tickets if you'd like to go," Draco suggested.

Harry looked torn between wanting to accept and annoyed by the suggestions. "We'd love to go," Ginny said, butting Harry in the side with her elbow.

"Yeah, sure, why not? You can ask your mate, Goyle, to come. Be like old times," Harry replied, moving a step to his right away from Ginny.

Draco suppressed his smirk. "You know I read that they might introduce a net for the goal hoops."

Harry perked up. "Yeah, I heard about that. What's up with that? I mean, I know that there was a problem of standardizing baskets in 1883. Couldn't regulate the size or something..."

"Some wizards would like to see a revival of the old baskets. Nets are supposed to replace the baskets to make it so the Quaffles don't get lost," Ginny stated. "But I don't see that happening."

"There is a guy in the wizarding town, Port Muldoon, just north of Port Isaac near Wadebridge that has put in a patent request for goal nets. If he gets his patent, his family of net makers will be supplying a standardized net for all the teams," Draco explained.

"Ron's bummed about it. He got his first Quaffle at the Cannons game when he was nine. He found it in the marshes when we were walking to the Portkey site."

Draco smiled. If he could keep the topic on Quidditch through dinner, maybe Harry would loosen up and enjoy himself enough to come back.

Hermione was sitting at the desk in the library, parchments and books spread out before her, when Harry and Ginny came home. "So, how did dinner go?" she asked not even looking up.

Harry plopped down on the sofa. "Well, enough, I suppose."

"Liar, you enjoyed it, and you know it," Ginny stated as she walked across the room. "I think he was trying hard to be a normal bloke. We had lamb chops, bubble and squeak, and trifle blancmange with a bickie for afters. He had some of the trifle boxed for you." She set a box on the desk and turned away.

Hermione eyed the box suspiciously. "Shouldn't you have given this to Winky to put on a plate?"

"Just untie the ribbon and it opens, silly," Ginny said as she sat down and curled up next to Harry. "There's a fork inside. Oh, and before I forget, you are invited to the Puddlemere game next week. You can't say no, I've already accepted for you."

Hermione looked at her in outrage that she had been roped into going. "Gin, I can't. I have..."

"If I have to go with Malfoy..." he started to say, and Ginny nudged him in the ribs, making him jerk, "and Goyle, so do you." He looked at Ginny with a confused scowl. "What?"

"Be nice. Greg and Francine will be invited, and I am going," Ginny said and turned back to Hermione. "Harry is going to owl Oliver Wood, and maybe we'll get to go to the after party."

Hermione sighed. "Fine, I'll go. I'd be more comfortable if Ron came, too, but I'll go."

Harry moved his arm from around Ginny and shifted so he could get up. "I think I'll write a letter to Wood. Cho can see he gets it, rather than going through his team publicist."

After he left, Hermione got up to sit next to Ginny. "So, how did it really go? What did Draco want?"

Ginny shrugged. "I think he wants to remain friends, but really, Draco was downright nice. Why are you so suspicious of him?"

"I wanted to just let this...Gin, Draco petitioned for me. He asked me to marry him before we left school. I refused him, but I don't think he's going to let it go."

Ginny sat bolt upright. "He petitioned for you? After everything we did to fight this law? When? I heard that he was considering one of the Greengrass girls... Astoria, I think?"

Hermione shook her head. "He did and was turned down...the S.R.H.M.C. didn't approve the match and told him he'd have to pick a Muggle-born. So he picked me."

"Well, I think he made a great choice!" Ginny laughed at her scowl. "Don't, really. Who else would he have chosen? First Ron, then Draco Malfoy...Draco did say that you were going to become pretty popular," she said, shaking her head. "I know that Bernice received an inquiry from Roger Holman, a Gary Scarborough, and Mr. Harper. I think Charles Harper has changed his mind about Muggle-borns, but Bernice said she'll snap her wand before consenting to him."

"She's sterile," Hermione stated offhandedly.

"And Charles Harper knows about the potion. His family is well off, connected in the right circles, and his dad was in Azkaban, accused of being a supporter. Also, Charles is the only boy in the family...the heir," Ginny pointed out. "If the Harpers don't get what they want...a bride to produce the next heir...they can make things difficult."

Hermione brushed her hair back with her hand. "This just keeps getting more and more frustrating. The longer this goes on...the more desperate things seem to get. Bernice is in Healer training, isn't she? That's a good three years before she's eligible anyway."

"Except the Harpers can show right to labor or continued education and establish funds for children, including Au Pairs and governesses," Ginny stated. "So if they can prove there is a way around the sterility..."

"Bernice...and the rest of us are sunk!"

"Exactly."