“Dumbledore knows…” Hermione said quietly, closing the book she’d had open, but wasn’t reading, on her lap.

They’d arrived at the Manor an hour or so prior. Theo and Draco were outside trying to enjoy the rare snowfall over the grounds while Pansy met with her father privately. With some spare time to kill, she’d naturally gravitated towards the library and had been pleased when the Malfoy patriarch had followed a few minutes later.

Lucius looked up from where he sat on the loveseat beside the roaring fire, pulling the silver framed reading glasses from his face and folding them before tucking the frames carefully in an inside pocket. After placing his book on the side table, he patted the cushion beside him in invitation.

Placing her book on top of the window seat where she had been perched, mostly watching the boys outside, she made her way over to Lucius and folded her feet beneath her on the green damask of the loveseat.

As always, Lucius looked impeccable. His long white-blonde hair was smooth and pulled away from his face with a thin black cord at the nape of his neck. His elegant robes were artfully arranged around him, even as he’d been reading by the fire. But she could see the tiny lines of stress around his eyes, the tension in his mouth.

“Tell me what happened,” he said in a kind but commanding tone.

She did, explaining to him in detail her run in with Dumbledore in his office. The attack on Mr. Weasley, her library shelves being ransacked, Dumbledore’s pointed questions, and finally his request as she’d left.

When he’d told her to say hello to Tom, she’d pulled her brows together in confusion and let her mind go black. Then, in an innocent voice, told him that she wasn’t planning on stopping by the Leaky Cauldron but that if she did, she would certainly give the barkeep his regards. This response had seemed to genuinely surprise Dumbledore and made Lucius chuckle deeply.

“Oh my dear, you are clever,” Lucius said, patting her hand affectionately.

Pride and warmth that bubbled up inside of her at the sound of his amusement. Lucius’ laughter was even rarer than his smiles and she knew Draco collected them even more fiercely than she did.

“Should we be concerned?” she asked, worry starting to claw its way through the warm feeling.

Lucius appeared to think for a long moment, his finger tapping against the top of her hand in a comforting rhythm. The firelight danced off his smooth pale skin, casting half of his face into shadow while illuminating the other with a warm glow.

“I don’t believe so. Despite Dumbledore’s… eccentricities, if he truly believed you were working with the Dark Lord he would not have been rummaging around your mind as he was. I think he has suspicions that he is trying to confirm.” He turned to her with a small, reassuring smile. “This is good information for us to know, as well as pass on to the Dark Lord.”

She nodded, the knot in her chest loosening slightly.

“Will you tell the Dark Lord tonight?”

Lucius gave her a small smile as the doors to the library burst open, bringing with it a swirl of cold air and a snow-covered Draco.

“I will allow you to give him this news if the situation tonight allows. If not, I would be happy to provide this information for you.”

Hermione smiled back as the elder Malfoy rose, depositing a swift kiss on her hair.

“Thank you, Lucius,” she said gratefully.

“Of course, dear,” he replied warmly before exiting the library, though not before patting his son affectionately on the shoulder as he passed him in the doorway.

Draco crossed the marble floors to her in three great strides to press his mouth firmly to hers. She shrieked as the snow from his hair and shoulders fell around her but he only laughed, holding her arms firmly as he shook out his hair against her. After a moment, an irate Humph appeared with a small pop .

“Young Master Draco, you is making a mess in the library,” the elf admonished and Draco had the presence of mind to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Humph,” Draco said quickly. “I won’t do it again.”

Humph merely snorted and snapped his fingers. In an instant Draco was dry and warm, all the snow and wet disappearing with the sound. Hermione, too, was rid of the little bits of winter and sighed appreciatively.

The house elf gave Draco one more glare before disappearing again with a pop that was hidden among the crackling flames of the large fire.

With a groan Draco dropped down beside her, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

“What did father say?” Draco asked after he’d gotten settled.

Hermione had told him, Theo, and Pansy about Dumbledore the moment they’d gotten on the train. As the Weasleys and Harry were gone she found it was easy to slip unnoticed into their compartment and spend an enjoyable train ride curled against Draco and filling in her friends on what had been said. When she’d finished, Draco had immediately told her she needed to speak with his father.

“He thinks Dumbledore suspects but has no proof yet,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Well… we will have to do our best to ensure the old man never gets confirmation.” Draco pulled his fingers slowly through her hair.

Hermione scoffed, shifting until her head rested against his thighs. One hand continued to stroke her hair while the other rested lightly on her upper arm.

“I can’t see how we can hide something like this from one of the most powerful wizards in history,” she muttered.

Draco couldn’t stop his own scoff.

“Dumbledore has his weaknesses just like everyone else. We’ll find them.”

Dumbledore’s weaknesses.

She thought about it for a long time, watching the crackling flames until they smoldered into embers. At some point Theo and Pansy had both silently made their way into the library and sat on the ground in front of the loveseat. Pansy rested her back against Draco’s legs while Theo sat beside her, leaning against the damask fabric, and Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder.

As she was surrounded by her friends – her family – she thought again of what Dumbledore’s weakness could be, then sat up with a jolt.

“He will always assume the best in people,” she said quickly.

“Who?” Pansy asked, startled.

“Dumbledore,” Draco answered for Hermione, not wanting her to have to get interrupted by answering questions when she was obviously mid-flow in an idea.

“It’s his downfall. He always wants to believe the best in others – it’s why he allowed Snape to work at Hogwarts. It’s how he let an imposter parade around as Moody for an entire year when he’s known the bloody guy for decades.”

Draco’s hand covered hers.

“So we find a way to make him believe the best in you,” Draco said.

“Shouldn’t be that hard,” Theo muttered, running a hand through his curls.

Hermione’s face fell.

“But how? How could I convince him? He already suspects.”

Pansy shifted until she was sitting back on her heels, reaching to cover one of Hermione’s knees.

“The Dark Lord will know, we just have to trust him,” she said softly.