Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain.

"Miss Granger?"

Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.

"Excuse me, Miss Granger!"

Her caramel eyes adjusted to the beaming light that passed through the library windows and into the bookshelves where Hermione sat. The woman in front of her smiled down at the young witch who had a classic novel placed in her hands.

"Oh my, I must apologise," Hermione smiled, getting up from the floor and placing the book into its rightful spot. "Once you begin reading about Mister Darcy, you can never put it down."

"It's quite alright, dear," The lady clucked, "However, I have a book on hold."

Hermione had her back to the woman, adjusting the books that were misplaced by the Hogwarts students who had come to retrieve their book orders for the start of a new year.

"Of course, under what name?"

"Malfoy," Hermione's eyes widened as she turned around abruptly.

The woman in front of her smiled as her emerald green dress robes shined as the sun light bounced off it. Hermione was sure that her cheeks had turned a vibrant shade of pink, but she continued as if she didn't notice.

"I-uh, it must be at the front counter, do come," Hermione said, walking toward the counter which had dozens of books piled on top of another. She walked behind the counter and searched for the book that was reserved under the Malfoy name.

"When did you start working here, dear?" Mrs. Malfoy called.

"Right after I finished seventh year," Hermione stated, as she raked through all the books placed on reserve. "I wanted to do something different. I, um, didn't particularly want to follow what everyone else was doing - you know, becoming Aurors or working at the Ministry."

"Weren't you offered a rather lovely job at the Ministry?" Hermione turned around, her eyebrows shot up in confusion.

"How di–

"It was all over the Daily Prophet, I apologise if it seemed as though I was intruding," Narcissa smiled, "Is my book back there, or did the kind young lady I spoke to over the post forget to add it to the reserve list?" The elder witch checked her watch.

"No, it's right here!" Hermione smiled as she checked off Mrs. Malfoy's name off the list with the book she was borrowing. "Mrs. Malfoy, if you could sign next to the book you borrowed," she smiled, "Adoption in the Wizarding World–" Hermione looked up at the Malfoy, her eyebrows curved upwards as Mrs. Malfoy signed off on the paper.

Adoption? In the Wizarding World? Is it possible that The Malfoy's – pureblood aristocrats, heir to millions of galleons, prejudicial pieces of shit – has a secret child in which, they gave up for adoption? Perha–

"Miss Granger?" Narcissa called. Hermione's daze wore off as she looked back at the lady in front of her. She placed the book in a bag and then handed it to the Malfoy.

"Happy reading!" Hermione smiled and watched as the Malfoy heiress began walking toward the door.

Hermione didn't know she was holding in a large sigh until the door opened. Her shoulders fell and threw her head back.

"Oh," Hermione jumped at the voice, "Please call me Narcissa, dear,"

And she was out of the door, leaving Hermione to overthink about Mrs. Mal– Narcissa's borrowed book.

0o0o0o

There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.

A knock at the door made Hermione jump from her chair, making the blanket fall off her. It was the second time today she had been interrupted from reading Austen's classic. With a sigh, she placed the book and her blanket on the chair and walked to the door.

She anticipated it wasn't anyone important - she was in a spaghetti-strap and a pair of baggy pants that made her look twice her normal size.

Opening the door, her eyes widened and a gasp left her mouth.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa smiled, "I apologise for not owling beforehand, but this is rather urgent." Hermione nodded as she looked around the woman and into the crystal blue eyes of Theodore Nott.

"What does this have to do with?" Hermione asked, looking at the Nott heir as she spoke.

"Like I said, Miss Granger, it's rather urgent and we would like to speak about this... matter in private. Away from some wondering ears." Narcissa said, as she looked around the hallway.

Hermione opened the door wider, as she let them in. Nott eyed his surrounding as he entered, making Hermione grit her teeth in annoyance.

She shut the door and walked toward the pair as they took a seat on her couch.

"Would you two care for some tea?" Hermione asked, unknowing of what to do, "I just put a fresh pot on not half an hour ago."

"Perhaps later, dear," Narcissa smiled, "Please sit down, Miss Granger, there are a few things we must discuss."

Hermione eyed the pair warily, Theodore Nott's once prejudiced and arrogant composure looked as if it crumbled, and was replaced by a sorrowful and fearful man. Narcissa had a rather large envelope clutched in between her pale fingers as she eyed the muggle-born.

Hermione took a seat in her chair where her Pride and Prejudice book lay.

"I'm sure you know about the Nott's?" Narcissa asked.

"Can't say I do, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione crossed her arms, "What do the Nott's have to do with anything?"

"Cordelia and Quinton Nott wedded at the age of sixteen, which was forced upon the two as they conceived a child at the age of fifteen," Narcissa began, "Cordelia never finished her education due to the child, thus leaving Quinton to make the decisions for the both." Nott coughed, "The child was a girl, thus ruining Quinton's pride – most Pureblood men prefer to have boys, so their inheritance can go directly to them. Quinton and Cordelia then conceived once again, a month after their firstborn."

Hermione gasped, her eyes widened.

"When the Dark Lord first rose to power, Quinton Nott did everything in his uttermost power to impress him, whether it was from volunteering himself to be the lead of missions, or to throw a feast at his home. So, when he then realised that having a daughter could possibly tarnish his reputation, and pride, he had someone get rid of his… issue."

"The baby?" Hermione gasped, as a tear streamed down her cheek. "He killed her?" Theodore was staring at her with wide, teary eyes.

"He didn't." Narcissa stated, "He sent her off to a Muggle family, in hopes that she would live a magic-less life, and that she would no longer be an heiress to the Nott fortune."

"But she didn't. She became a witch, didn't she?" Hermione asked.

"She did." Narcissa stated, as she looked over at Nott.

"Do I know her? What's her name?" Hermione asked as she looked between the pair. "I must know her. She would be our age," She looked over at Theodore, "What's her name?"

The silence that followed was deafening. The air began to chill as the two Pureblood's looked at the Muggle-born as tears ran down her coloured cheeks. Theo looked over at Narcissa and back at the Muggle-born.

"Hermione," He whispered, only loud enough for Hermione to hear. "That's her name."