The Right Thing Ch. 2

The Right Thing
A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter 2: In the meantime…

A gentle breeze blew through the trees and sent fallen leaves scattering along the sidewalk. Children chasing a shaggy black and white dog came running around the corner and nearly collided into Draco Malfoy, but at the last second dodged and continued chasing the dog who had a bright red scarf in his mouth. Draco chuckled and continued walking along the sidewalk, pulling his long coat tighter and readjusting his black leather gloves. His old shoes made a dull clicking sound on the hard pavement as he moved along.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Draco smiled. He loved autumn. The smells of the Earth as the seasons changed was something he was convinced should be bottled and sold. He would certainly purchase it. Of course, now that it was late fall, the weather was becoming colder and colder, and coats and gloves were no longer an option. This didn't bother Draco much though seeing as he preferred the colder months to the hot and steamy ones. There was just something about the beauty of the Earth as she slept.

He smiled as he turned the corner onto White Hall Street. His destination was on the right about four houses down. It was a squat, simple, mundane color of tan and looked to house only one person… two if you squeezed. He knocked on the door and waited. A scuffling sound could be heard inside as well as a low cursing and grumbling. After a moment, the door whipped open, revealing a short balding man in tan slacks and a dark blue sweater. "Draco!" he greeted with a large grin before pulling the blond man into a firm embrace.

"Don…" Draco greeted back with a similarly large grin and returning embrace. "It's been too long."

"That it has, that it has," Don pulled back. "Well, come on in! I just put on the tea. Watch out for Zoey though, she likes to weave around the ankles," he said in reference to a brown tabby who was indeed making her way towards Draco's ankles.

Draco stepped over the feline and made his way further into the small sparsely furnished sitting room. There was only two high-backed chairs, a small table, a long low bookshelf stuffed full of old tombs, and a small fireplace. A narrow doorway led from the sitting room to the kitchen and Draco could hear Don pulling together a tea tray to bring in once the water was hot enough. In the meantime, Draco slipped out of his coat and gloves, laying them over the arm of one chair, and sauntered over to the bookshelf to crouch down and take a look at the selection.

Don was an old client of his. The older wizard's family had played victim to the Death Eaters. Don's only child, a son, and his family had been killed for sport by the fiends and were currently buried in a small cemetery that Draco had visited often with his friend and client. A shuffling of feet announced Don's approach. "You've gotten some new ones I see?" Draco commented still looking at the tombs.

"Oh yes," Don replied proudly. "Found them at an estate sale and just couldn't resist!"

Don collected the works of Shakespeare and sought out early publications. His newest additions included a selection of sonnets published in the early seventeen hundreds and a stage version of Macbeth from the late eighteen hundreds. The prize of the collection, however, was a first edition of Much Ado About Nothing that was supposedly written in the Bard's own hand. Draco rose from his crouch and moved to sit across from Don in the chair he'd laid his coat and gloves in. "Earl Grey?" he asked.

"As always… lemon?"

"You know me too well," Draco smiled. He took the offered wedge and squeezed some of the juice in before simply dropping the bright yellow citrus into his cup. He leaned back in his chair, taking his tea with him, and sipped slowly at the hot drink. "Mmm… I have to say that you make some of the best Earl Grey I've ever tasted."

"Thank you," Don grinned, sipping at his own tea.

"So how've you been?"

"As well as can be expected what with the anniversary having just passed."

Draco glanced up to see a pained expression cross the man's face. "Don… what do I always tell you?"

The elder man held up a hand, "I know, I know… I couldn't have done anything."

"That's right. It's not your fault and there was nothing you could've done. Had you been there that night, you would most likely be buried next to them."

"I know… it's just always a bit difficult to think about, even seven years later."

"I expect it won't ever be easy to think about."

Don snorted mockingly into his tea. "No, I doubt it."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it for the actual day. You know I would have gone with you."

"I know, and I understand that you had other things going on. I'll need to get used to visiting them by myself some day, right?"

"Perhaps, but you can always send me an owl if you need to."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Both men sipped at their tea then, content to sit and listen to the crackling fire and the gentle purring coming from Zoey who was curled up on the rug before the mantle. Draco always tried to visit Don around the time of year that his family died, but this year he'd had an appointment with another client that could not be postponed. "Did you put flowers out?" Draco asked.

Don nodded. "Pink zinnias… they were the girls' favorites," he replied referring to his two granddaughters who'd been killed in the attack.

Draco smiled. "I'm sure they would have liked that."

Don smiled as well. "I'd like so think too."

More silence filled the room. "Have you had any luck with work?" Draco asked.

"No, Henry just won't listen. He says that my columns are perfectly fine as they are, nothing more is needed." Don was a columnist for the Daily Prophet; he wrote a column on potions.

"And you've pitched the idea to expand how many times?"

"At least a dozen," Don groaned.

"Hmm… perhaps you could write a sample column? Henry would have to see the potential if he had an example before him."

"That's actually a great idea. Thank you, Draco."

Draco nodded. "You're welcome." He set his cup and saucer down on the table.

"More tea?"

"I really shouldn't. I've already had two cups this morning. Healer Trenton says I need to cut down on the caffeine."

Don chuckled. "You're getting older, boy."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not that old yet. I'm only twenty-four! I'm still in my prime, old man."

"Ah, I may be old, but I have experience!"

"Is that what you call it?"

"You doubt me? Let's pull out the backgammon board and see which wins, experience or young impulsiveness?"

Draco laughed. "Alright, you're on, old man."

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing backgammon, a game that called on all of Draco's conniving and strategy. As it turned out though, experience did win out over young impulsiveness… if only by one game. Shortly after five o' clock, Draco bade Don farewell and promised to visit soon. He walked a couple blocks away from the house before apparating back to the Leaky Cauldron. It was still a little early for dinner, so he returned to his room to write about his visit with Don. While Don was no longer a client, Draco still liked to keep tabs on him and make sure things were on a progressive incline.

It was then that his thoughts turned to Granger. That morning had gone better than he'd thought. While it had been obvious that she hadn't wanted him there, she hadn't thrown a fit or snapped at him. She'd even allowed him to fix her tea. That had shown she was starting to trust him… even if only a little. Even when she'd been asking him to leave at the end, she didn't yell or scream. She merely stated her points in a calm, if somewhat frustrated, tone. It was promising. Hopefully she would realize that she needed his help before she snapped at someone.

o O o O o O o

"Oh, honey, are you sure you're gonna be okay? You know you can always come home, right?" Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother, asked, a comforting tone in her voice.

"Yes, mum, I know. But staying in London is actually better anyway. I'm closer to my job at any rate."

"But can't you just do that poofy thing?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow critically. "It's called apparation, mum."

"Whatever it's called," she waved a hand nonchalantly. "Can't you do that if you stay with us?"

"Yes, I could, but things are just easier if I stay here," Hermione muttered not wanting to say that she felt that if she moved back in with her parents that Ron would win somehow. Moving back in with the parents was a last ditch move that desperate people made and Hermione was not that desperate… yet. "I'll tell you what, mum, I'll visit soon okay?"

Mrs. Granger seemed to think this over then finally let out a sigh and nodded. "Alright, but you call if you need anything at all!"

"I will, mum."

"Oh, and one last thing, Hermione dear. Do you think you could actually call next time? Or visit? You know how unnerved your father is by these fire chats."

Hermione chuckled and nodded. "I will."

"Thank you, honey. You know he'd like to see you as well."

"I know. I'll talk to you later mum."

"Love you, darling."

"Love you too."

Hermione pulled her head out of the small fireplace in her room at the Leaky cauldron and stood on stiff knees. She sighed as she thought of the troubles she'd gone through to protect her parents from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It had taken nearly a year to rehabilitate them from the memory charm she'd put on them. They'd been furious once they'd remembered her and there had been many discussions on trust afterwards. Now the memory was just a bad thought. Hermione's mother had forgiven her without too much hassle, but her father's trust had taken a bit longer to regain. As a result, her father was always a bit nervous around magical things… and regular things such as teapot whistles sometimes.

Heaving a sigh, she moved toward the small closet and pulled out her cloak, scarf, and pair of gloves. She needed to visit Gringotts and get some more money if she were to have enough to pay for a few days' rent and food. Hopefully she could find an apartment within the next few days. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't a bad place to stay, but it was a bit costly to live there for an extended period of time.

Ten minutes later found Hermione walking down a crowded Diagon Alley. It was one of the last semi-pleasant days of autumn and many a witch and wizard were taking advantage of it to get some shopping done. Her destination, a large white marble building, lay just ahead and she picked up her step to get out of the chill. Upon entering the prestigious bank, Hermione was drawn to the gleaming marble architecture, the same as every other time she walked in. The fantastic soaring heights were amazing to look upon, but she didn't get long to gaze until she was before a goblin clerk. "I'd like to make a withdrawal," she said pulling her vault key out from a small handbag.

The goblin examined the key momentarily before calling for a vault goblin to lead her. "Please take Mrs. Weasley to her vault, Brisbing," he ordered the other goblin.

Brisbing nodded and took the offered key before turning to lead Hermione away. She cringed a little at her married name and sighed. The hole threatened to open back up, but she forcefully shoved it back. Wordlessly, she followed the small goblin into the underground vault. In order to access her vault, Hermione had had to make several compromises with the goblins of Gringotts. None of them had been very happy about her breaking in to a vault during her Horcrux hunt with Harry and Ron. However the fact that the break-in did help to bring down Voldemort and the fact that she was now head of the Department for the Rights of Sentient Creatures and could pass laws in favor of the goblins more easily helped her to gain back some trust with the short, but fearsome creatures. Brisbing ushered her into a cart and soon they were speeding along a track that led to her vault. It wasn't very far, but in the short distance, the sharp turns and ups and downs made Hermione slightly nauseous. Usually she didn't have a problem with the roller coaster ride, but for some reason it didn't agree with her this afternoon. Wobbling slightly, she exited the cart once they'd stopped and followed Brisbing as he opened her vault for her. Gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts gleamed from inside, and she quickly pulled out her handbag and scooped a small fortune inside. She wasn't sure how long she'd be staying at the Leaky Cauldron, or how much she'd need for a down payment on an apartment, so she took a bit extra to be on the safe side.

Another ten minutes later she was walking back through the main entrance to Gringotts and out into the brisk November air. Her head swirled a bit more than before and she had to swallow forcefully to keep her stomach down. Perhaps this sudden illness was partially because of the fact she'd only had tea and a croissant today? That must be it, she decided. She just needed something to eat. However when she neared a café, the smell of the coffees, teas, and baked goods sent her head reeling and she quickly walked past. She needed to get back to the Leaky Cauldron, and now. At that moment she really didn't care about proper wizard protocol. She didn't care that it was rude to simply apparate in the middle of the street, but she did it anyway and was glad when she did because not five minutes later, she was kneeling in front of the loo tasting the croissant for the second time. She shook and shivered as she emptied her stomach and heaved until there was nothing left to come up. What was wrong with her? Maybe Malfoy had poisoned her tea that morning? It would be just like the little pratt… gain her trust then poison her. So much for trust…

She rose from her position on the tile floor and moved to the sink to washout her mouth. The cool water felt nice, and she ended up washing her face with the cool sweet liquid. A wave of lethargy stole over her and she swayed again, her vision honey combing slightly. She staggered out of the bathroom and somehow managed to make it to the bed before collapsing onto it in a heap. Sleep consumed her within seconds and it was difficult to tell whether it was from exhaustion or if she was losing consciousness to dizziness swirling about her head.