The Purist / DRAMIONE (COMPLETE)

News at Last

Draco met Hermione in the library as usual after Winter break. He was sullen, having had a thoroughly unspectacular Christmas, and was pleased, despite Umbridge, to be away from home.

"So, what did you get for Christmas?" Hermione asked carefully.

"New dress robes from Mother, and from Father: a gold watch, and a slap. What about you?" He asked gloomily.

"New Theory of Numerology from Harry, some really unusual perfume from Ron, and some books from my parents. I think Mrs Weasley got the perfume for me, otherwise I dread to think what it consists of." Hermione looked troubled.

"Hmm. I wouldn't advise you think of it. Slowly, over the course of the year, tip more down the drain. Don't wear it, or I'll only come near you with a gas mask," Draco eyed her. "Why are you wearing that look? Bin it with the perfume."

Hermione laughed reluctantly. "Why were you slapped?"

"Do you not remember what I said before Christmas? About losing Quidditch matches?" Hermione nodded. "I think, as soon as I've left home and are of age, the amount those Nimbus Two Thousand and One's cost will be taken from my Gringotts' account. I'll be bankrupted before I can even start working," he added in disgust.

"We were in St. Mungo's on Christmas Day," Hermione said absent-mindedly.

Draco's face became sharp and alert. "Due to Arthur Weasley?"

"Don't tell me Voldemort already knows about that?" Hermione was exasperated.

"'Course he does; it's his snake, isn't it? And anyway, don't say that name," he hissed. "It's..." he shivered, "... strange."

"We saw Gilderoy Lockhart in the Janus Thickey Ward."

"Spell Damage? Fourth floor?"

Hermione nodded. "That's right. He's still the same as ever. He gave us signed photos before we could say no."

"You had a crush on Lockhart," he reminded her, fiddling with the fragile binding of an ancient book. Hermione slapped his hand away and put the book gently back on its shelf.

"If you'd read his books, you would understand why!" Hermione exclaimed in defence.

"I read all his books." 

There was a strange look on his face. 

"Many times. He was my hero, from an early age. You know he 'defeated' all those creatures like Hags, Trolls, Ghouls, Werewolves..." he trailed off, "... I thought Father was a monster, and I hoped Lockhart would appear one day to vanquish him." He sighed. "As if," he muttered. "It was a stupid five year-old thought. Lockhart couldn't turn a match into a needle."

"It's perfectly understandable," Hermione reasoned. "For a five year-old," she added. "It's like those 'there's a monster under my bed' things. Children escape harsh situations by making up a fantasy creature that helps their fantastical brains explain what's happening."

"Hmm," was all Draco said in reply.

"We also saw Neville," she said quietly.

"Longbottom? Why was he there?"

"You know when you were saying Harry should be carted off to St. Mungo's?" Draco nodded. "And Neville tried to attack you? And you looked confused?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

"That's because Neville's parents," she forced back the urge to cry, "are in the Spell Damage Ward because Bellatrix Lestrange used the Cruciatus Curse on them until they lost their minds. That's why she's in Azkaban, and that's why Neville lives with his grandmother."

Draco looked faintly sick and stared at the floor. "Bellatrix Lestrange," he whispered. "Well, I guess you've met all the pleasant people in my family, now."

"What?" Hermione whispered too.

"She's my aunt. Bellatrix Lestrange is related to me."