Apart from Hermione, no one knew what Draco had written in that letter.
But over the past few days, the Grangers had noticed something off about their daughter.
"Off" might not be quite the right word. She smiled more than usual, yet from time to time she would slip into a vacant, faraway daze. It was enough to make the Grangers uneasy.
Whenever they asked, Hermione would wave her hands in a fluster and insist that nothing was wrong. The Grangers instinctively took this as her trying not to worry them.
After all, they knew very little about magic. Even when she talked about school or the wizarding world, they could hardly follow what Hermione was saying, much less help her sort through her troubles or offer any real comfort...
...
One morning, several weeks into the holiday.
Mr. Granger folded his newspaper at the breakfast table and looked up as his wife came downstairs.
"So? Still not up yet?"
"Mmm. She's been going to bed very late lately. I can tell she's hiding something."
"Do you have any idea what it is?"
"No. It's the same answer every time I ask. Honestly, dear, I'm starting to worry about Hermione."
"Sigh… Maybe we shouldn't have sent her to a Wizarding School in the first place. Now when something's wrong, we don't even know who to ask. What, are we really supposed to go buy an owl?"
"Hmph. And who was it that said we should trust our daughter? Now you're saying this."
"I… I just never imagined how out of place we'd feel among those wizards."
At that, Mr. Granger let out a quiet sigh.
Both accomplished dentists who had managed to open a practice in central London, the Grangers were neither foolish nor naïve.
After their brief interactions with wizards, they had naturally noticed the strong sense of superiority wizards held toward ordinary people, the ones they called "muggles."
That attitude was anything but equal.
Even with the Weasleys, they could still sense an unerasable distance in every word and gesture.
Their ability to get along existed only because of Hermione, and that kind of friendship was fragile at best...
From small details, one could see the bigger picture.
The perceptive Grangers could easily imagine the kind of treatment Hermione might face at school.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so blatant within the school walls, but situations like that were bound to arise sooner or later. And that was exactly what they feared...
Would she be able to make friends at school?
Would she be bullied by others?
Could she adapt to life there?
These were no longer topics the Grangers brought up at the dinner table.
And in truth, every one of their worries had come true, if Hermione hadn't met Draco...
Well. In every sense of the word.
Just as the Grangers were sighing in quiet resignation, it seemed that someone had come to visit that morning.
The doorbell rang, accompanied by a knock.
They paused, exchanging a glance.
If they had been paying a little more attention, they would have realized this wasn't a normal way to call on someone.
Strictly speaking, no one rang the doorbell and knocked at the same time.
Unless they were someone unfamiliar with the place...
...
The noise at the front door made the Grangers pause as they waited for Hermione to come downstairs for breakfast.
They exchanged a look.
"Are we… expecting anyone today?"
"No, I haven't heard anything about that."
"Could it be a patient from the clinic?"
"Probably just another newspaper salesman. I'll go turn them away. Dear, when Hermione comes down later, remember to have her finish the glass of milk on the table."
Shaking her head, Mrs. Granger, who looked more like Hermione's older sister than her mother, reminded him once more before striding to the door and pulling it open.
Such a completely unguarded action was something that would never happen in today's British wizarding world…
"We don't need a newspa—"
"Good morning, ma'am."
"Eh? Good morning… and you are?"
They had assumed the person at the door would be an early-morning salesman.
After all, the neighborhood was filled with people who were either wealthy or well-connected, prime territory for sales pitches. Someone coming by so early wasn't unusual at all.
But… this clearly wasn't what they had expected.
After all, what kind of salesman looked like this? And somehow, he seemed oddly familiar…
"Draco Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger's classmate and friend. Perhaps you've heard my name mentioned by Hermione?"
Mrs. Granger, still holding the doorknob, wore a slightly strange expression. The way she looked Draco up and down made it hard to tell whether it was the word "friend" that caught her attention, or whether Hermione really had mentioned Draco before.
In any case.
Her expression became layered and complicated, as if she were pleased that her daughter was growing up, yet mildly irritated that Hermione had begun keeping little secrets of her own.
As though completely unaware of the subtle change in her expression, Draco performed a polite gesture he had learned from Muggle etiquette books before continuing.
"I'm very sorry. I'm not quite sure how this thing works, so I knocked a few times just to be safe. I hope I didn't cause any inconvenience."
His words reminded Mrs. Granger where her daughter was studying now, and the kind of people she associated with.
So this well-mannered boy in front of her was a wizard as well…
Naturally, although she could guess Draco's identity, Mrs. Granger was still a Muggle who hadn't delved deeply into the wizarding world. She couldn't understand the weight carried by the name Malfoy, nor could she know that the magical ability of the boy standing before her was no less than that of a fully grown wizard.
Perhaps that was precisely why she could maintain such an easy, natural attitude toward Draco…
"You had an appointment? Really, Hermione didn't even tell me her friend was coming. Anyway, come in quickly. We were just about to have breakfast."
"Then, excuse me for intruding."
Although Mrs. Granger's experience allowed her to sense that the boy before her was anything but ordinary, she was still easily won over by Draco's handsome appearance and his impeccable manners from beginning to end.
The trace of hesitation on her face quickly turned into warmth.
Of course, more than anything else, the reason she let her guard down so quickly was the name her daughter mentioned from time to time.
That name belonged to the seemingly flawless young man standing before her.
Draco Malfoy.