Ficlet: Let Freedom Ring
Title: Let Freedom Ring
Word count and Rating: 851, PG-13
Summary: When Hermione and Lucius are on opposite sides of an issue, Draco is caught in the middle.
Notes: Written for the Halloween 2008 Day 5 challenge at dramionedrabble prompt: "We may not enjoy living together, but dying together isn't going to solve anything."--Night of the Living Dead. Also for prompt #023 Freedom at 100quills.
He would never completely rid himself of the fears he learned in the war, especially the fear that he would lose his family. So when Draco arrived home and found the manor eerily silent-no parents to greet him, no warm and beautiful wife to kiss and compare days with, not even the clink of cocktail glasses or the scent of dinner in the air-he dropped his dropped his cloak to the floor and ran from room to room in a panic.
“Hermione! Mother, Father where are--” In the doorway to the dining room, Draco grabbed the lintel and brought himself to an abrupt halt. Wide-eyed and suddenly anxious in a whole new way, he stared at his family in bewilderment.
Looking angrier than Draco had seen him in years, Lucius sat at the head of the table, slowly drumming his fingers on the polished tabletop and giving Hermione his best glare of death. Unimpressed, Hermione sat at the far end, arms crossed over her chest, eyes snapping, and face scarlet with rage. Midway down the long table, Narcissa set her teacup down and said wearily, “Hello, dear. Welcome home.”
“Um,” he faltered, “What's wrong--”
“Ah, yes, Draco,” Lucius interrupted in a cold, imperious manner Draco had not seen his father adopt since his last stint in Azkaban, before the war. “Welcome home. Did you perhaps notice the conspicuous lack of servants when you arrived?”
Hermione's nostrils flared slightly. “Lack of slaves, you mean.”
Draco remembered his cloak hitting the marble floor with no elf rushing to pick it up and had a sinking feeling. “Okay, what happened?”
“Your wife,” his father ground out through gritted teeth, “tricked all the elves into taking clothes.”
“I gave the elves their freedom,” Hermione said simultaneously.
Narcissa just sighed and nodded when Draco stared at her.
“They didn't want freedom!” Lucius barked.
“Of course they did, they just didn't realize it.”
Lucius slammed his fist down on the table. “Have you been down to the kitchen since you sprang your little surprise? The elves are all drunk and sobbing! Elves enjoy serving wizards.”
“The fact that many elves have internalized the attitudes of their oppressors does not in any way justify this perverse and unethical system.” Hermione pointed an accusatory finger at her father-in-law. “You'd understand that if you had read my manifesto.”
“That drivel you left in my office? I used it to line a bird cage. Draco, do something; she understands nothing of our world.” Lucius glared down at his son who, like Narcissa, had been silently watching the two of them volley back and forth.
“Yes, Draco, do something,” Hermione snapped, placing both hands on table and launching herself to her feet. “Your father is a fascist who doesn't understand that all intelligent beings are inherently equal.”
“My son thinks you're an idiot!”
“I do not!” Draco said hotly.
“My husband supports elf rights! Don't you, Draco?”
“Well...kind of. I guess.”
“Self-righteous cow!”
“Death Eater!” Hermione's wand was suddenly in her hand.
“Pious Mudblood!” Lucius leveled his own wand at Hermione's throat.
“That's quite enough.” Narcissa's quiet voice drew the room's attention. “We're family. Lower your wands at once.”
“Listen to her,” Draco pleaded. As Hermione and Lucius slowly obeyed, he continued, “Father don't ever call Hermione that name again. Not ever.” Lucius looked slightly embarrassed. “And no argument is worth pulling wands on each other.”
“Indeed,” Narcissa agreed. “We may not always like everything about living together, but dying together in mutual annihilation isn't going to solve anything. Also,” she frowned at both Hermione and Lucius, “shame on you both for putting Draco in the middle like that.”
Mortified, Hermione tucked her wand away and sat down. “I'm sorry, Draco.”
“I'm sorry, too,” muttered his father.
“Very good. Now,” Narcissa took her seat again, “Lucius, we will hire the elves back at a mutually acceptable rate and include acting servile as part of their job descriptions.” Hermione sputtered in protest, but Narcissa ignored her. “Hermione and Draco, it's time for you to leave.”
Hermione closed her mouth and sat back, looking thoughtful. Draco looked confused.
“Leave the room, you mean?”
“No, dear,” Narcissa reached across the table to pat her son's hand. “Hermione needs a house of her own, and so do you.”
He shook his head. “We're fine here.”
Lucius sighed. “Your mother's right. The two of us aren't going to disappear if we're out of your sight for too long. The war's long done. A married couple should have their own space. That means both you and us.”
“You should be able to do the things your father and I did when we were newly married,” Narcissa smiled. “Things like staying all day in bed with no one else in the house to disturb you, or walking around the living room naked.”
“Mother, I don't want to hear that,” Draco said, and Hermione giggled.
“It was all right, dear, because we were alone.”
“Not completely alone,” Lucius said sourly. “That was back in the good old days when we had elves around.”
Word count and Rating: 851, PG-13
Summary: When Hermione and Lucius are on opposite sides of an issue, Draco is caught in the middle.
Notes: Written for the Halloween 2008 Day 5 challenge at dramionedrabble prompt: "We may not enjoy living together, but dying together isn't going to solve anything."--Night of the Living Dead. Also for prompt #023 Freedom at 100quills.
He would never completely rid himself of the fears he learned in the war, especially the fear that he would lose his family. So when Draco arrived home and found the manor eerily silent-no parents to greet him, no warm and beautiful wife to kiss and compare days with, not even the clink of cocktail glasses or the scent of dinner in the air-he dropped his dropped his cloak to the floor and ran from room to room in a panic.
“Hermione! Mother, Father where are--” In the doorway to the dining room, Draco grabbed the lintel and brought himself to an abrupt halt. Wide-eyed and suddenly anxious in a whole new way, he stared at his family in bewilderment.
Looking angrier than Draco had seen him in years, Lucius sat at the head of the table, slowly drumming his fingers on the polished tabletop and giving Hermione his best glare of death. Unimpressed, Hermione sat at the far end, arms crossed over her chest, eyes snapping, and face scarlet with rage. Midway down the long table, Narcissa set her teacup down and said wearily, “Hello, dear. Welcome home.”
“Um,” he faltered, “What's wrong--”
“Ah, yes, Draco,” Lucius interrupted in a cold, imperious manner Draco had not seen his father adopt since his last stint in Azkaban, before the war. “Welcome home. Did you perhaps notice the conspicuous lack of servants when you arrived?”
Hermione's nostrils flared slightly. “Lack of slaves, you mean.”
Draco remembered his cloak hitting the marble floor with no elf rushing to pick it up and had a sinking feeling. “Okay, what happened?”
“Your wife,” his father ground out through gritted teeth, “tricked all the elves into taking clothes.”
“I gave the elves their freedom,” Hermione said simultaneously.
Narcissa just sighed and nodded when Draco stared at her.
“They didn't want freedom!” Lucius barked.
“Of course they did, they just didn't realize it.”
Lucius slammed his fist down on the table. “Have you been down to the kitchen since you sprang your little surprise? The elves are all drunk and sobbing! Elves enjoy serving wizards.”
“The fact that many elves have internalized the attitudes of their oppressors does not in any way justify this perverse and unethical system.” Hermione pointed an accusatory finger at her father-in-law. “You'd understand that if you had read my manifesto.”
“That drivel you left in my office? I used it to line a bird cage. Draco, do something; she understands nothing of our world.” Lucius glared down at his son who, like Narcissa, had been silently watching the two of them volley back and forth.
“Yes, Draco, do something,” Hermione snapped, placing both hands on table and launching herself to her feet. “Your father is a fascist who doesn't understand that all intelligent beings are inherently equal.”
“My son thinks you're an idiot!”
“I do not!” Draco said hotly.
“My husband supports elf rights! Don't you, Draco?”
“Well...kind of. I guess.”
“Self-righteous cow!”
“Death Eater!” Hermione's wand was suddenly in her hand.
“Pious Mudblood!” Lucius leveled his own wand at Hermione's throat.
“That's quite enough.” Narcissa's quiet voice drew the room's attention. “We're family. Lower your wands at once.”
“Listen to her,” Draco pleaded. As Hermione and Lucius slowly obeyed, he continued, “Father don't ever call Hermione that name again. Not ever.” Lucius looked slightly embarrassed. “And no argument is worth pulling wands on each other.”
“Indeed,” Narcissa agreed. “We may not always like everything about living together, but dying together in mutual annihilation isn't going to solve anything. Also,” she frowned at both Hermione and Lucius, “shame on you both for putting Draco in the middle like that.”
Mortified, Hermione tucked her wand away and sat down. “I'm sorry, Draco.”
“I'm sorry, too,” muttered his father.
“Very good. Now,” Narcissa took her seat again, “Lucius, we will hire the elves back at a mutually acceptable rate and include acting servile as part of their job descriptions.” Hermione sputtered in protest, but Narcissa ignored her. “Hermione and Draco, it's time for you to leave.”
Hermione closed her mouth and sat back, looking thoughtful. Draco looked confused.
“Leave the room, you mean?”
“No, dear,” Narcissa reached across the table to pat her son's hand. “Hermione needs a house of her own, and so do you.”
He shook his head. “We're fine here.”
Lucius sighed. “Your mother's right. The two of us aren't going to disappear if we're out of your sight for too long. The war's long done. A married couple should have their own space. That means both you and us.”
“You should be able to do the things your father and I did when we were newly married,” Narcissa smiled. “Things like staying all day in bed with no one else in the house to disturb you, or walking around the living room naked.”
“Mother, I don't want to hear that,” Draco said, and Hermione giggled.
“It was all right, dear, because we were alone.”
“Not completely alone,” Lucius said sourly. “That was back in the good old days when we had elves around.”