By the time Hermione was escorted to her room – a lush suite outfitted in creams and lilacs with a four poster so big she could have fit all her friends in it, a shining golden vanity with a lilac stool, and an ensuite bathroom bigger than her entire bedroom at home – she was so exhausted by the day’s events she would have fallen asleep with her clothes on had a small female elf by the name of Fimsy not forced her into her pajamas.

The following few days she fell in to a comfortable routine. Every morning Fimsy would wake Hermione, force her to get ready for the day and dress, then Hermione would go down to the “sun room” as Fimsy called it to see Draco, Theo, and Narcissa.

Narcissa insisted on guiding them through a morning meditation, which Hermione didn’t quite understand. But after the first session Theo said softly to her as they walked to breakfast:

“She’s been doing it with us since we were little. Says it will help us to focus our minds or… something.” He’d shrugged noncommittally and that had been that.

So every morning they sat in their designated spots – Draco at a large emerald wingback chair, Theo in the matching one beside him, and Hermione on the plush window seat overlooking the rose gardens.

Picture a lake at twilight.

See a large chest that only you can open.

Imagine a library, all your own, filled with secrets only you can read.

After meditation and breakfast, the boys would convince Hermione to go on some adventure with them, her favorite being when Draco finally invited her into the maze.

“Ready?” He’d said with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

“Ready,” Hermione and Theo answered together.

Draco stepped through first, then turned to them.

“Theo, Hermione, come into the maze,” Draco said clearly, extending a hand towards them.

As they stepped through all the sounds that had swirled around them a moment ago – the tinkling of water through a fountain, the loud squawks of the peacocks, the rustle of the wind through the leaves of the hedges – all disappeared. The hedge sealed itself behind them with a shiver, leaving no way out but through.

“If you get too lost, just touch the hedge and say domus and the hedge will make a way out.” Draco gestured to the gnarled green leaves behind him.

Theo, appearing to already know this, was already heading off in one direction while Hermione nodded.

Draco grinned at her, reaching to stroke his fingertips down her forearm.

“See you in the middle, Granger.” He winked.

She grinned back.

“See you,” she answered, then set off.

She loved being in the maze. Loved having to use the tiny landmarks she could see overhead – mainly the spires of the manor – to find her way.

As she turned around a corner that she was sure would lead her to the center of the maze she collided with Draco.

“Hey!” she squealed as he pulled her behind him.

Scrambling, she sidestepped and broke out into a run.

“Oh no you don’t!” He called after her.

She could hear his footsteps close behind, just out of reach. Her hair streamed behind her as she ran, their peals of laughter swallowed by the hedge.

As the center came into view, Draco tackled her from behind. Turning at the last moment he broke their impact and she squealed again.

“You cheat!” She pushed at his chest.

“I think you mean, you winner .” He grinned at her.

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other, chests heaving. Draco’s fingertips hesitantly traced the line of her jaw and Hermione’s heart stuttered.

They hadn’t kissed since that night in the library before they had left school and though so much had happened since then – including breaking a mass murder out of Hogwarts on the back of a condemned hippogriff – it had been the one thing she couldn’t get off her mind.

Now, here in his arms, his grey eyes turning dark, she thought she understood what Lavender and Parvati always giggled about late at night.

But it was more than that, more than a crush. A crush had been what she’d felt for Draco before the holidays. But now? After he’d welcomed her into his friend group – into his home ? This was… something else entirely.

Draco seemed to hesitate, his face only inches away, as his eyes flicked back and forth between hers. So instead of waiting, Hermione leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.

He sighed, his fingers tangling in her curls as he tilted her head back. This kiss was different from their first. A little less careful and a little less quiet. There were words in this kiss in a language Hermione didn’t quite understand but desperately wanted to learn.

“Oi! No snogging in the maze!” Theo yelled.

They broke apart quickly, Draco helping Hermione to her feet. They turned to see Theo smugly leaning against the ivory statue of Circe.

“I win,” he said with a toss of his curls.

“No, I got here first!” Hermione said, her competitive nature getting the better of her.

“The winner has to touch the statue,” Theo replied innocently.

Hermione turned on Draco, her heel grinding into the dirt beneath her feet.

“You didn’t say that!”

Draco shrugged, dusting himself off.

“Must have slipped my mind.” He gave her a roguish grin.

Walking to the furthest wall of hedge, he pressed his palm to the tangled green leaves.

“ Domus ,” he said firmly.

A wide archway appeared leading them back to the rose garden. Draco turned, extending a hand towards Hermione with his brows raised. But before she could step forward, Theo grabbed it first.

“Oh Draco, darling !” Theo yelled dramatically, pulling them through the arch.

Hermione followed close behind, laughing the entire way.

…

Hermione absolutely adored Narcissa.

From the quiet way the woman asked her questions, to the unobtrusive observations or advice she provided, Hermione thought that this was what an attentive mother must be like.

She loved her own mother, of course, but Jean Granger was much more focused on her responsibilities at the dental practice than on gossip or talking about Hermione’s friendships. She had to admit though that there was so much that her mother couldn’t possibly understand about the magical world she couldn’t blame her for not being interested.

It had also been clear to Hermione from a very young age that it was best to become as independent as possible to not put an extra burden on her parents. It was why, before she had gotten her Hogwarts letter, she’d done so many after school activities.

The gap in their relationship had gotten wider after her letter. That gap was why she didn’t have an issue staying at the castle for the holidays. Why they didn’t have a problem with her spending the entire summer holiday away from them with another family who were practically strangers.

She loved her parents, cherished the time she had with them and missed them terribly but Hermione knew how to be self-sustaining. As lonely as it was.

But now she felt how wonderful it would be to have a focused, maternal presence in her life.

The afternoon before Daphne and Pansy arrived, while the boys were playing quidditch, Narcissa had found Hermione in the rose garden. It had become one of her favorite places to sit and read while Theo and Draco were off doing whatever didn’t interest her at the time.

For a while Narcissa left Hermione to her book while she quietly inspected her flowers, occasionally pruning a stray bud or leaf and vanishing it wordlessly. But after a while, she began to ask Hermione about school.

By the time the sun was dipping below the horizon, Hermione found herself in the woman’s arms, tears dripping on to expensive blue robes, and a soft hand sliding through her curls.

“Boys are difficult at this age, dear,” Narcissa said kindly.

“Draco and Theo and Blaise aren’t difficult.” Hermione sniffed.

She could feel Narcissa’s chuckle.

“They are difficult, but in a different way. It sounds to me that Harry and Ron are very much focused on being… well… boys. Especially Harry – and can you blame him? He spent his whole life under the thumb of those horrid…” Narcissa paused as if searching for the word. “Muggles. Lucius heard from the other governors what they’re like. Of course when he comes to school he doesn’t want to focus on responsibility or studying. He wants to belong .”

Hermione thought about that for a long moment before nodding.

“Ron though…” she started softly.

She was sure she heard the click of Narcissa’s teeth as she held herself back from her first response.

“Ron is a boy who has always been in the shadow of his brothers and now lives in the shadow of Harry Potter,” Narcissa said slowly. “The Weasleys, for all their boasting of being different, are purebloods. He is predisposed to prejudice the same as anyone else. He treats you as less than because that is what he’s taught to believe. But that does not mean it will always be that way.”

She stroked Hermione’s hair again.

“Why is it that way at all?” Hermione asked meekly.

Narcissa sighed, then pulled away to look at her fully. Hermione could see the tiny signs of stress around the older woman’s eyes and mouth. Her blonde hair caught for a moment in the breeze before settling once again around her face.

“Wizards and Witches were persecuted by muggles for centuries, Hermione. So many of us died at the hands of them – children included. When you think of the fact that most wizards live on average to about 150 to 200 years old, that is not so long ago in our lifetimes’.”

Biting the inside of her lip, Hermione had to agree Narcissa had a point.

“For so much life to be lost – it is a wound that festers and scars. That does not mean that it is right to hate or fear muggles – or to hurt them. I only provide you an explanation for why that hate and fear is there.”

Narcissa looked away from Hermione, her blue eyes trailing over the blazing sky painted with pinks and purples.

“I’m sorry though, for what you have experienced. For the pain it causes and undoubtedly will continue to cause,” Narcissa said, looking back to her.

Hermione smiled weakly.

Narcissa placed her hands around Hermione’s face, thumbs brushing the stray tears left behind. Narcissa’s eyes shone with a feeling so deep it almost shocked her.

“But remember Hermione, loyalty goes both ways.” She smiled affectionately, pressing a small kiss to her forehead murmuring, “and the Malfoys always protect their own.”