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He studied the street on both sides, it should be… Yes, there it was. Solid construction, two floors, well maintained in a respectable neighbourhood of comparably terraced houses. Room enough for a young, upwardly mobile couple.
She hadn’t been hard to find. Muggle newspapers were excellent resources, as were those huge books that listed everyone’s names and addresses. And computers, linked together to share knowledge. Their versions of magic continued to fascinate him after all this time.
Three swift knocks to the door, then he stepped back. As was polite. Also cautious; his reception might not be favourable. It had only been roughly a decade, after all.
“Honestly, Paul! Did you forget your keys again?” She’d probably been upstairs, given the tromping footsteps that accompanied the words. Far greater affection than in the speeches on news programmes. Yet still the same as that pedantically arguing classroom voice, if less strident. “One sec! No, Crooks, those aren’t for you!”
The footsteps reached the door, and with a click of the bolt it opened. “Here, try not to…”
And there she was. Older, of course, but healthier and that shaved most of the years away. The person he’d glimpsed that last day at Hogworts looked as if she’d been running on Pepperups for a week, and poorly brewed at that. Running but dead on her feet. Better that than dead on the ground, of course. Or worse; there’d been boasts of what was in store for captured Undesirables. Her, in particular.
He was fairly sure she’d not spotted him then. Probably why he was alive today.
“Nott…?” Her left hand held a set of keys. The right moved to behind the door, and he quickly raised both of his.
“Theodore Nott, yes.” He lowered his hands slightly and slowly, very slowly, opened his topcoat to show the wand tucked securely within. “It’s staying there. I come in peace, Granger. I just want to talk, nothing else.”
He wore what he knew was what a sharp dressed Muggle gentleman would wear to work. Years of living in London taught him how to dress correctly. That had to help his case.
Merlin’s Saggy Shorts, let it help his case. A life might depend on it.
Granger could be ready to slam the door in his face, when a large orange blur ran between her legs and into his. With an ungraceful leap, it was in his arms and he reflexively caught the furry mass.
“Crookshanks!”
The creature didn’t want to listen to its mistress. Nott decided to use the distraction. “Granger, there’s no way I’m drawing with this… Kneazle, is it? It must weigh two stone!”
“Half. He’s half-Kneazle.” She turned her attention to the cat-thing with a scowl. “And he’s a bad boy!”
The beast’s response showed who was in charge, and it wasn’t her. Anytime else, Nott would be giggling.
Granger inspected him, and there was a clunking noise from behind the door. Something heavy and metallic was being put away, and he didn’t want to guess what it was. “And he’s an excellent judge of character. Get inside before I regret this, Nott.”
~~~~~~
The interior of her home… no, their home, she was married to a Squib and he won’t comment on that. It was tasteful, yet comfortable. A staged element to it, and Nott wondered if she’d had it arranged for the magazine article. It’s what he would do.
Comfortable sofa too. Granger was pouring tea and arranging a service. And they’d always said Gryffs had no manners. Or was it no manors? It had been funny, back then. Before things stopped being funny.
The orange beast had departed once Granger had waved them in. Not before he’d gotten a pat on the head from the visitor. Word had gotten down to the dungeons of Weasley going spare, there was a cat after his pet rat, and who has a bloody rat as a pet? Nott was sure this was the animal.
Granger carried out a tray. “I don’t have strong memories of you.” Muggle tea, of course. Nott had grown to enjoy several blends. “That’s a notch in your favour, by the way.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I did my best to stay as unmemorable as possible. All while doing the minimum necessary to not stand out in my House.” He took a sip, and Merlin it was bloody hot. Granger didn’t appear to mind.
Nott put it aside to cool. “As opposed to you. Quite visible at your new schools, graduating top at both. A streak of winning cases. And now the Honourable Hermione J. Granger, MP. One of the youngest ever. Pictures in the papers, getting her image out in the national public so the nation will be ready for her next move.”
For a moment her eyebrows furrowed. Then she took a second, longer sip. “Right. You’ve got about a half hour until my husband returns, and we have plans for tonight. He knows about me, about school, about the war. Everything,” and she grabbed a shortbread biscuit. “We were hoping that was all in the past.” It was dunked, a bit aggressively he thought and thankfully there wasn’t much tea within to spill out.
A bite, then she gestured the uneaten part at him. “You wanted to talk. So talk. Tell me exactly why you are here, Mister Nott?” Merlin, she didn’t only learn potions from Snape. It was uncanny.
Be direct. Granger was a Gryffindor. “Draco wants to return.”
She cocked an eyebrow. Amused, he believed. “I’m listening.”
“He wants to return home.”
“Five years in Azkaban, a year’s probation, then France.” Granger was getting the Prophet, that’s certain. “And now he’s returning. Why come to me about that?”
She wasn’t puzzled. Or curious; Granger wanted him to play this out. Fine.
“Because that wouldn’t be safe,” Nott answered. “So he’s not going back home; he’s going to come out here instead.”
“And Malfoy approves of this?” Yes, definitely amused.
“Of course not,” and she nodded at the confirmation. “Not yet. Myself and others are to persuade him.” Nott tried to sound more assured of this than he felt.
“That’s assuming he’s not hexed to death before he can leave,” he continued. “There were already numerous attempts in Azkaban.” She looked surprised at that.
“It’s unsafe for him back there, Granger. And frankly, we needed to first ensure it would be safe for him out there.” The tea was finally at a proper temperature. He’d not automatically reached for his wand to speed that up; being around Muggles had paid off. “Safe,” he repeated, “as in breathing. Ambulatory. To be clear.”
Granger finished off the biscuit and relaxed into her chair, fingers steepled. “Nott. I’m a barrister and a newly elected MP. I’m not Scotland Yard. Or the Order. I don’t need to assault people anymore, Nott; I take them to court.” Her eyes twinkled. “Is Malfoy still rich?”
“Not as such. Reparations, harsher than the rest of us. And don’t be disingenuous.” Nott let his tone become stronger. “You’re still Hermione Granger. We aren’t stupid. Well, not as stupid we’d been at Hogwarts, but we were also desperate to not get killed.”
She had the decency not to pretend bashfulness or modesty over his words. Nott could see how law school and running for office had sharpened Granger. Or pulled away a mask.
Direct honesty. “We know he’s on lists, and we can handle those. But you’re you, Granger. If you want Draco dead, he’ll die. A method no wand could detect, and neither would Muggle investigators. Probably a novel concoction of chemistry and potions. Or just arrange to have him struck by an automobile; that happens far too often here.”
“‘You might very well think that; I couldn't possibly comment.’” She had a thin grin at the phrase. “Finished watching the series last month; completely missed it whilst at school. Husband recommended. An excellent primer in acquiring power and what you would do to keep it.”
“I found it a bit heavy-handed, but we can trade Muggle media reviews later, perhaps?” Hmmm, she perked up at the idea. For later, and he pressed on. “You’re still not answering, Granger.”
“Oh, he’s safe,” she replied easily. Honestly too, he thought. “From me, promise. Unfortunately, I’ve mentioned that name to Paul and the parents. I’ll vouch for them after we have a lengthy shouting match.” The hard glare returned. “Safe, so long as Malfoy plays nice while he’s living ‘out here.’ I discover anything to the contrary, and all bets are off.”
Nott put his tea back down. “Agreed. And thank you. Sincerely, Granger.” His turn to sigh, in relief. “Now we just need to convince him of that, or at least that he’ll be safer in Muggle London.”
“Valid point, Nott; I never said he’d be completely safe. The city might do him in all on its own.” Granger didn’t sound completely unhappy over that outcome.
~~~~~~
She poured a refill for her cup, then topped off his own. “He’ll be staying with you lot, I assume? Until he’s functionally adapted to life in the real world?”
Lovely choice of words, Granger. “Yes, that’s the plan. I have a modest home in Epping. He’ll be there until we’ve convinced him not to be a dunderhead.”
“Best of luck on that,” Granger snorted. “Goyle and Bulstrode won’t be part of this.” Not a question. “Who is?”
“No, they won’t,” he replied. “Greg was too obvious and enjoyed it too much. He won’t get out for another ten. Millie the same, for eight. Just as well.”
“Quite.”
Nott went on. Granger had to be aware, except… Again, he had the feeling she wanted to hear it from him. Personally.
“Pansy left directly after her courtroom summons. No direct charges set against her; it was more to permit official venting at her… faux pas in the Great Hall.” All to let the victorious masses feel righteous, he privately suspected.
“Now you’ve made me wish I’d stayed a few more weeks,” Granger huffed, “bought tomatoes too. ‘Faux pas’ my arse.”
“No need; I believe they were handing them out in the Ministry lobby.” That got a short laugh. “She had reasons, Granger,” he added earnestly. “Slytherin reasons. I think it would be good for you to hear them from her.”
Granger’s hair was doing that thing it did in class, whenever she raced six steps ahead of the lesson. She would probably figure out the why long before any reunion.
“Blaise wasn’t an angel in Seventh Year, even if he talked more than he cursed. There were charges. He got two years’ probation.” Granger hummed noncommittedly. “Let’s see who else. Myself, Greengrass, and Greengrass Junior, all escaped official enquiries. I lost track of Davis and Roper after I left.” Odd. She suddenly got attentive over those last names.
“Most of us were escorted away before it started,” he concluded. As she knew. “The safest option to stay alive,” even if it would make post-battle life uncertain.
“But some stayed, didn’t they.” Again, not a question. “Snuck away, or snuck back in.” She tapped a finger to her cheek. “I might have seen a person that day. Possibly helping people who were gravely injured, regardless of which colours they wore. Terribly not in keeping with self-preservation, surely.”
She wasn’t going to let it go, judging by the smirk. “That sounds very farfetched, Granger,” he calmly retorted. “Is that famous memory going already?”
“Possibly. That was so long ago, and I’m growing old. Also somebody,” as the feline monster bounded onto her lap, “who keeps crying for food all night isn’t helping, are you?” The beast meowed plaintively, and she broke off a piece of biscuit for it.
Cute, especially when compared what he was about to tell her. “There’s also a matter I’ve heard that hasn’t been in the papers.” Granger brought out that attentive stare again. “Consider this a gift to honour of our successful tête-à-tête.”
He’d almost forgotten. He wished he could, to be honest.
~~~~~~
Her reaction was much the same as his had been on putting together the pieces. “That’s… grotesque.” Granger looked ready to become violently ill. Understandable, given the parentage involved.
Nott let her absorb it for a minute.
“It’s possible these are base rumours, created to frighten, well, anyone sane.” She didn’t seem to believe that any more than he did.
“Information,” she muttered. “Dammit, I really hoped I was done with all that, with magic and wands and Dark Lords and Death Eaters.” Granger waved her hands about in exasperation. “I need to know what’s happening beyond just what’s in their papers.”
Of course she did. Granger must have really believed that she’d escaped if it took her this long to realise this.
“They’ve had multiple Dark Lords through the ages. They will have them again.” She stood, the cat jumping away with an angry complaint. “This time, they will not reach beyond the bricks at the Cauldron. That means I need to know what’s happening in there, Nott.”
“Humint.”
Both eyebrows raised. “Spy movies too. Nott, I’m impressed, honestly. Not really espionage, though. More like…” Her hair was doing that thing again. “Passing notes in class. Which way is the wind blowing, and who’s paying for it to blow that way.” Granger began to pace. “Whatever ridiculous scheming is going on outside Wizengamot sessions. What pubgoers are silently moaning about. What’s not being printed in the Prophet.”
“The word on the street,” Nott said when she slowed.
“Precisely.” Granger stopped, then sat back down. Bit of a collapse, actually. “We all knew what was happening, even if our government wouldn’t admit it. I will not allow that to happen again.”
It was like she was reciting facts, reading from a textbook. Not subject to argument. Mind you, not that he was going to. “You won’t, Granger. That’s also why I’m here, solo. It’s about where you’re going.”
“Do tell.” She settled into the chair, and it felt like an exam had started.
“I’ve been watching. You’ve started running for office years ago, didn’t you? Unofficial campaign actions between your Cambridge years,” and that startled her a bit. “Chatting up neighbours, local businesses, fellow professionals. Making connections with the press. Visibly supporting charity and volunteer efforts.”
“Simply doing my civic duty, Nott. You should try it sometime.”
He ignored the barb. “I watched you win trials, Granger, absolutely crush them. Win this election by a wide margin for a novice politician. I watched you at Hogwarts, firsts each year. Outmanoeuvre Umbridge that night. Salazar knows what you did that last year, but it let Potter kill that bastard for good, didn’t it?”
“No comment,” she drawled. Very Parliamentary of her.
He wasn’t expecting a response, to be fair. “So yes, I know where’re going, and so do you. A simple linear progression; no need for fancy Arithmancy charts, is there?”
“No,” she said. Then, almost to herself, “I’m going to be Prime Minister.”
“Ambition, cunning, leadership,” Nott said with admiration, not a trace of mockery. “Granger, I think someone’s been re-sorted.”
She shook her head. “I think… I was what I had to be, at school.” Granger took a sip and he wondered if she had been thinking similarly over the years. “I needed to be brave, sure. But Harry needed someone who was smart and loyal as well. And honestly, he needed someone who cared about self-preservation less than he did. Even if he’d argue that to his last breath,” Granger added, shaking her head fondly.
“That was then,” a declaration that matched her hardening expression. “We’re not doing that anymore.”
Nott could see how she won the election and would win more of them. Granger’d never been like this at school, always in Potter’s shadow or buried behind books. Never out in front, had never owned a room.
“No more Houses, not out here,” she said directly to him. “I refuse to have the rest of my life defined by a talking hat from when I was eleven. I’m not a Gryffindor. Or a Slytherin, either. I’m British. We are British, no matter where we came from. We can be better than the generations before us, Nott,” her voice softening. “We have to be. Honestly, look where following them got us.”
“Point taken, Granger.”
“Hermione.”
“Theodore.” He paused. “I think this went well.”
“So do I. Not at all what I imaged this day would bring. I’ve a few notes for the future, before we close.”
Ah, the old Granger was still inside.
“You’ve clearly managed to live in London without ostentatious wand usage, Theodore.” Not quite bossy swot Granger speaking; political maven Granger, instead. “Congratulations. Also to your cohorts. Let’s encourage that, if you please. I don’t want my constituents to be Obliviated because somebody decided to Apparate to a show instead of taking the Tube. It’s always seemed a horribly inexact process, anyhow.”
She peered out the living room window, at the world outside. “My constituency will later include all of Britain. So I’d prefer this went into effect immediately. Please spread the word.”
“So noted, future PM.” He put out his own smirk, tested the waters. “Nonetheless, you must admit that green suits you.”
She smiled, and a few more years vanished. “That spread in did come out well, didn’t it? Paul looked smashing.”
“You both did.” The husband… Despite being a Squib, he must be easily as smart as she was. Granger would never have gone for anything less.
“Cheers. Let’s arrange for a second discussion meeting, shall we? Bring your friends, Malfoy if he’s up for it. Even Parkinson.” She jokingly mimicked her cat spitting up a hairball. “Consider this the start of an ongoing information exchange for mutual benefit.”
Nott raised his cup to her. “Here’s to the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Hmmm. Let’s not go that far.”