Nest of Vipers

------

The laws of Britain changed with each new ruler. Voldemort created many new laws, including labor and sedition laws. Lucius Malfoy was noted for completely eliminating the forced labor laws and even doing away with indenture contracts outside of national emergencies. Draco Malfoy was known for many other things, including returning to a more democratic process in his laws, though much power still remained with him. Most of the laws he imposed had to do with freedom of speech.

--- The New History of Britain, Book III

------

Draco and Granger had been taken to Diagon Alley, where they had crossed over to the Muggle world unnoticed. It was the first time they had ever been alone together, and under normal circumstances, it would be unacceptable, but in Muggle London, he was forced to acknowledge that he needed Granger to get him through - though her penchant for dramatic Gryffindorish statements annoyed him considerably.

It had irked him to no end when he discovered that he could not enter the United States through magical immigration. All people, whether Muggle or magical, had to enter the country in the same way. That way, should they ever be apprehended, they would not be in the country illegally.

"It is difficult to be a wizard there," his father had pointed out. "You will be undercover. In fact, you will be using very little magic at all."

"But why? If we are going to be dealing with American wizards?"

"It is the stipulation of the American Council of Magical Peoples," said Lucius helplessly. "They work very hard to maintain their secrecy, and the best way for them to do so is for them to blend in seamlessly."

What Lucius had left unsaid was that the Americans had done more the blend - they had become. And it made sense that a girl who had lived a Muggle life would bring him here now. Draco had promised himself to be on his best behavior - to her and to the Americans.

They needed American investments and trade. Fudge and the previous ministers before him and disregarded the capitalist Americans, and though Lucius had no wish to become involved with them either, money was a driving factor.

The treasury was nearly depleted from the war, and though they could expect revenue to come from British exports, it was not enough. What Lucius needed immediately was cold hard capital, and in this Draco would not fail his father.

Thus he kept his behavior subdued as Granger led him to the Muggle airport, and from there, a large vessel called an airplane. He had heard of them, of course, but he had never seen one so close in person. It was a good thing too, or else he never would have boarded it.

"How do you know it won't crash?" he asked.

Granger sighed. "I don't know that it won't," she admitted. "But they've taken many precautions. The plane has passed through rigorous safety instructions, the passengers and crew are carefully screened for illegal items, and in case something does go wrong up in the air, there are devices to help us survive."

"I would rather floo," he said almost petulantly.

Currently they were seated near the boarding gate of their flight. The terminal was crowded on this busy Saturday morning, and Draco founded his seat to be uncomfortable. He was also hungry, but he had no wish to go through the chaos of ordering food in a Muggle restaurant.

To everyone else, they looked like a pair of people on a business trip. He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, and Granger had opted for a blouse in a soft pink color and a gray skirt. She had secured that impossible hair in a low bun, and she had even deigned to wear earrings. All in all, she was dressed better than usual.

Across from them sat a trio of girls, perhaps in their late teens. All three of them were rather good-looking, and they were eyeing Draco with undisguised interest. He, on the other hand, was alternately looking down at the file in his hands and the Boeing 787 outside the window. At least he could comfort himself with the presence of his wand.

He had almost had to discard it at customs. When it passed through the scanner meant for carry-on items, the technician behind the x-ray screen flagged it as one that needed closer examination.

"Sir, can you identify this object?" A burly man in a security uniform had asked.

"My wand," he had replied unthinkingly. Beside him, Granger had groaned audibly.

The security officer had not been amused. "I think this'll have to go with the luggage."

Draco had panicked. He would not get on the plane without his wand. He needed to feel safe in this unfamiliar world, and the wand was his link to sanity.

Thankfully, Granger had intervened. "But sir, you'll note that it's made of wood. It's just a trinket my cousin picked up as a souvenir. He didn't put it in luggage to protect it from damage." She leaned forward and dropped her voice, as if she were confiding in the burly man. "And you know how boys are with their toys. He even made me buy one."

The man had relented at the sight of Granger's charming smile. "I suppose it's harmless enough."

"Just clutter, if you ask me," she said, nodding in agreement. And that was the end of that.

Now he reached into the inner jacket pocket and felt the presence of his wand. He would never admit it, but Granger's presence, for the first time in his life, was welcome. He was more than content to follow her lead her because any misstep he made here could be fatal.

He felt rather than heard her shift. "Malfoy, those girls are staring at you."

"I know," he replied in a bored tone. "It's getting on my nerves."

"They're all quite pretty," she said in defense.

He turned to look at her in surprise. "Granger, are you trying to encourage me?" He shook his head. "Yes, they are pretty, but not attractive to my eyes."

"Because they are Muggles," she finished quietly. He nodded unapologetically but looked startled at her slight smile. "Oddly, that makes me feel better." She changed the subject. "Have you finished going over my notes?"

He nodded. "What else do you know about this Michael Tracy and the ACMP? Our information on them is scant." He lowered his voice so the girls nearby could not eavesdrop.

She stretched. "He is the head of the ACMP - the American Council of Magical Peoples - and he is a very successful doctor. The ACMP meets once a month, and they elect a new chairman very five years." She continued to recite the information as if she were still a student at Hogwarts. "The ACMP is comprised of one elected member from each of the ten different regions of the country. They set policy on magical usage in the United States - which is basically minimal. Several years ago, they banned flying on broomsticks anywhere in the country."

"They banned flying?" Draco looked decidedly unhappy. He was a flyboy, after all. "Perhaps we ought to look elsewhere for business."

Granger shook her head. "There is nowhere else to look. I would suggest Japan, but they have their own politic crises at the moment. No one else has the liquid capital your father needs." She looked thoughtful. "They used to allow flying in certain parts of the country, especially in the desert regions. But the military now occupies most uninhabited places, so people who wish to fly have to go to neighboring Canada."

Draco nodded. "People with sense."

Granger sighed. "Americans regulate everything. Floo network usage is monitored strictly and is only allowed in certain locations."

"At least they apparate." He looked up to see one of the girls send him an inviting smile. Giving her his best uninterested look, he continued, "For all the talk about every citizen's right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness-" and here Granger looked surprised at his knowledge. "You know, I am not as witless as you would think. I think everyone on this planet, both Muggle and Magical, has had the American Constitution shoved down his throat."

"Sorry," she said unapologetically.

"Yes, well, as I was saying, for all their big words, the United States seems very oppressive to me. Rather tyrannical, in fact."

"Since the American government doesn't know about the existence of witches and wizards, they can't oppress. Oppression is most often an act done on purpose," reminded Granger primly.

Draco ignored her. Granger could get so annoying at times. "Do you have to do that?"

She looked at him in confusion. "Do what?"

"Act like we're back at school again? You aren't in Hogwarts anymore, so no need to show off." He knew his words were cruel, but a lifetime of habit had not taught him temperance.

Granger looked away from him. "You don't have to worry, Malfoy. Every time I open my eyes and see you, I remember that Hogwarts is gone."

"I shall always endeavor to be in your line of sight." When she did not respond, he switched his gaze from Granger's angry profile to the time displayed on the wall. So much for our truce, he reflected, feeling unregretful. He knew that Granger was needed for this mission, but that did not mean she should forget her place in the grand scheme of things.

They sat silently until boarding was called. Though Granger was the resident Muggleborn, Madam Pince had made most of the travel arrangements. She had booked their airline tickets and had arranged the meeting between them and Michael Tracy. "Come on, Granger, we have to go."

She looked up. "They board first class at the beginning," she explained.

"Yes, and that is precisely what we are. Well, I am, at least," he amended arrogantly. Draco grabbed a hold of his briefcase, and feeling slightly charitable, grabbed hers as well.

She snatched her briefcase back from him and marched towards the line. He followed, smilingly charmingly at the people she displaced. At the head of the line, the stewardess took their tickets and wished them an enjoyable flight.

Draco managed to resist pointing out that enjoyable depended on aircraft safety. He followed a seething Granger to inside the aircraft. Immediately, he was struck by how small it was. His misgivings on the rise, he took the seat next to Granger and felt for his wand again.

He turned his eyes towards Granger to see if she had similar concerns, but her jaw was still clenched in anger. Draco sighed. After all, he had promised to be on his best behavior. "My words have caused you offense," he said haltingly.

Her brown eyes flicked towards him in irritation. "Malfoy, I'm not the only one still acting like we're back at Hogwarts." When he did not comprehend immediately, she continued. "Every day, I hear slurs about being Muggleborn. I'm not ashamed of it, and people like you who call me Mudblood don't bother me anymore." Her eyes glowed brightly. "So fine, I can take that from you. But you don't have to bring money into this. I've never flown first class before - so what? Take a few steps further into the plane, and you'll see lots of people who haven't the means too either." She pressed a hand into her eyes, and when she removed them, Draco was surprised to see how tired she looked. "You have no right to be proud of your circumstances. You were born into privilege, Malfoy. You did nothing to earn it."

A thousand retorts came to his mind. Yet he felt that Granger had won this round. "You are right. I apologize." And he was contrite. He did not feel sorry for despising her Muggle origins, but perhaps repeated jabs at her previous economic situation was unwarranted. "But from now on, you will be traveling first class everywhere," he said with some cheer.

"How do you figure that?"

Draco leaned back into his chair, thankful that these were more comfortable than the ones in the airport lounges. "You are Malfoy property now."

Granger was silent for a moment, and then, "I am not anyone's property."

He understood what she was saying, and he understood what she was not. "Just don't become Voldemort's." He looked down at his right forearm, where he knew the Dark Mark was etched into his flesh. "So how long until we get there?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

------

"- of course, my wife just loves it, and so do the kids, but personally, the dogs and I'd rather live here in Virginia."

Draco nodded politely as Michael Tracy blathered on about his current lodgings. The portly American had surprised them by greeting them personally at the airport. He had then taken them to a remote estate in the Virginia woods where nine other somber faced people at been waiting for them. They were the other chairs of the ACMP, and like the nation itself, a melting pot of ethnicities and magical origins. Granger had privately informed Draco that all council members were in some way related to Muggles, and that it would be in his best interests not to mention anything about being a pureblood.

The meeting itself had been relatively short. Draco had given his presentation, which had been followed by a brief period of questions from the Americans. It seemed to have gone well, but then again, one could never be quite sure.

The meeting had been recessed for lunch. The other Americans had disappeared, but Dr. Tracy had led them to one of the dining rooms in the mansion, where food of all kinds had been set out for them. His wife was British, he had explained, and thus he was required to abstain from the voting process.

Right now, Granger and Dr. Tracy were finishing up their lunch and animatedly speaking about Muggle architecture. Irritated because it was a subject that he had no interest in - and one that he also knew nothing about - he decided a change of subject was in order.

"Dr. Tracy, I am sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could tell us what to expect when the meeting commences again."

Across from him, Granger flushed at his tacit reminder that she had been neglecting her duties.

"The others are discussing your proposal right now. We should have a decision for you shortly." Tracy looked up to see his aide beckoning him. "There's Adam. He probably has a message for me." He stood and smiled at them. "Please, help yourself to more food, take a look around. I'll only be few moments."

After Tracy left, Draco turned to his companion. "Well, what do you think? I know my presentation was good - it would have convinced even Goblins to part with their money..."

Granger looked amused. "It was good," she admitted, "but they seemed a little...well, not as curious as I would expect. I thought they'd have more questions for us." She bit her lip. "It was as if they had already come to a decision before we even got here."

Draco nodded. "I know what you mean. But I sincerely hope their decision is in our favor. We need their investments - or our government is doomed from the start."

She frowned slightly. "Four years ago, Dumbledore asked the ACMP for help in the war with Voldemort. The Americans refused. And yet, I don't think that fact is in our favor."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her use of the word our but refrained from commenting. Instead, "The Americans have a history of non-interference, especially when it could backfire in their faces. A good thing too - if the Americans had gotten involved when Dumbledore had asked, Voldemort would have retaliated, and it would have triggered a world war with involvement from other magical governments."

Granger stood up and stretched. "I'm going to walk about for a bit." She hesitated, and then, "Would you like to join me?"

He shrugged. "I might as well." He rose and indicated the brightly lit hallway behind them. "I saw a door back there that leads to the gardens."

Once outside, he watched as Granger took a deep breath. "Even the air smells different here." She began walking down the stone path. "I wonder if this was how the Muggleborn colonists felt when they first arrived with the other colonials in Virginia."

"And next you'll tell me that you can smell freedom in the air as well." Draco stuck his hands into his pockets and ambled down the path beside her. "You know, Muggleborns might be accepted here in all levels of society, but that comes at a high price - you wouldn't be able to practice your magic as freely. Where's the freedom in that?"

"That's true - but perhaps it's a price worth paying if it means avoiding persecution."

"Persecution works both ways," he reminded her. "And no matter how hard you try, it will continue in its own destructive cycle. Without persecution, the balance of power would never be maintained."

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Granger.

Draco led them deeper into the woods. "Just consider this: a persecuted group of people becomes unhappy, and then they convince others to join their cause. The group grows larger. Soon, someone arrives to represent them. To lead them against the oppressing wave of injustice. This group of people become a rebellion, and after a battle of either politics or bloodshed - or both, the oppressive government is overthrown, society is in upheaval, and a new government is installed." Draco could see that Granger was trying her hardest not to interrupt. Continuing, "But eventually, the persecuted become the persecutors."

"You're speaking of Voldemort?"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Yes, and of Dumbledore, and of Grindewald, and so on."

Granger, as he had expected, denied his charge. "Dumbledore was of the Light," she said emphatically.

"Light, dark - do you really think in such black and white terms?" He held up a hand to forestall her protests. "Your Dumbledore once said that touching the dark side would color the path your life will take."

"He said that during our seventh year at Hogwarts."

"He did have a point." Draco started to walk again, and Granger, unprepared for his sudden movement, hurried to catch up. "Darkness does influence you. But didn't it ever occur to you that the opposite might also be true? That the light could influence a being committed to darkness?"

Granger's eyes were wide. For once, she was stunned. "Well, - "

Draco smiled grimly. "Obviously it hasn't, and I can't say I'm much surprised. Dumbledore and his followers were persistent in their rather one dimensional belief, and because of that persistence, they ignored what was right in front of them. That the dark and light side are exact opposites is not the question, but are people as clear in what they are?"

She did not meet his eyes. "I suppose I never thought of it that way."

"You weren't encouraged to. Too much danger, I guess." His tone was half apologetic, half scornful.

"And what about you? Are you saying the Death Eaters are more clear in their motives?" Granger might have been ambushed, but she was now mounting an attack of her own.

"Not at all," he replied. "Death Eaters are just as blinded by darkness as your Order was by the light."

Her eyes flashed defensively. "The light doesn't blind."

Draco shook his head. "No, but people often use it to blind themselves. Darkness blinds all on its own."

Granger was quiet for a few moments as she digested this. He could see confusion in her eyes - as well as wariness at seeing another previously hidden facet of his personality. "What you are saying...aren't you a Death Eater...a follower of darkness?"

Now he was the one who hesitated. "I have the skills and knowledge of one," he said.

"But you aren't evil?"

"We are all part good and part evil," said Draco, unconsciously mimicking what Snape had told her a few weeks ago.

Granger looked unconvinced. Her manner intensifying, she said, "Your father, the man who raised and educated you, was Voldemort's most loyal Death Eater, and yet you're standing there and telling me that you're not on the dark side? I refuse to believe that. You'd be too ensnared to see the truth because you were trained from birth."

"Trained from birth?" He looked at her with some measure of pity. "Aren't you also ensnared in the willing blindness of your own Order to comprehend the grayness of which I speak?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Unlike you, I wasn't trained from birth."

He snorted. "Do you honestly believe that being trained from birth marks one permanently in what they are trained in? If you do, you're simply foolish, especially when you consider how many people turned to the Dark Side after they graduated from Hogwarts."

Granger cocked her head. "You aren't answering my question - are you light or dark?"

Draco knew that lying would be pointless at this juncture. "I don't know yet."

Granger's expression softened slightly with concern. "You can't hover between the two." Her eyes grew more thoughtful, as if she realized that while discussing the Order, Draco had never claimed that the light side was weaker. He had attacked the Order of the Phoenix, not the light side itself. It was a subtle difference, and one that Draco had not expected her to catch. She stepped closer to him. "But you don't want to choose."

His expressed hardened. "Don't presume, Mudblood." But the taunt fell on deaf ears as she reached out towards him.

This had gone further than he had anticipated because he had miscalculated both himself and her rather badly. Draco grabbed her arm before her hand could make contact with his.

"I have my wand in my other hand," she pointed out, "while yours is still in your pocket."

He hissed in her ear. "I am the weapon." Lucius had trained him to deal with all sorts of situations, even ones like this.

She trembled slightly but did not move away.

Draco had lost ground, and he was not going to get it back today. He had become too sympathetic in her eyes. But perhaps there was a way to minimize the damage.

Moving quickly, Draco once again grabbed her arm and immobilized her, boxing her in with the extra leverage. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand and plucked her wand from fingers too surprised to clench shut. Pressing the tip of the wand against the pale skin of her throat, he leaned close enough so that he was able to breathe the fresh scent of her skin. "Don't ever threaten me again."

With a casual flick of his hand, he lowered the wand. He had already moved away as Granger turned to look at him, her eyes filled with anger - and hate. He did not say anything, just merely watched her as she struggled to calm herself. His sudden violence would probably make her believe that he closer to the dark.

She pocketed her wand. "I see your point." Her voice was frosty, their earlier rapport gone.

"Remember it." Draco deliberately turned his back to her and walked back towards the mansion.

------

Hidden from Draco and Hermione's view, three other people shamelessly listened in on their conversation. "What do you think?" asked Michael Tracy to his two companions.

A wrinkled old man, his skin tanned from years spent in the sun, looked thoughtful. "I see a hummingbird in the girl," he finally said.

Michael exchanged a look with the younger woman who supported the elderly Indian on her arm. For the Indians, hummingbirds symbolized devotion and permanence. It was considered a strong symbol because although small in stature, a hummingbird could be extremely determined in its own territory.

"And the boy, Tunksila?" asked Michael respectfully.

"Harder to say. He is both cougar and butterfly." The cougar represented power, leadership, and swiftness. The butterfly, however, was a transformer, and for the ancient Plains people, a symbol of metamorphosis. Both animals could be good or bad.

The woman spoke for the first time. "Tunksila, you are tired. Maybe we should continue this inside."

"Hush, takoja." A wrinkled brown hand patted the woman's arm. "I'm old, and death is close. But I'm not dead yet." He peered at Draco and Hermione again. "Under most circumstances, I hate leaving the reservation and coming into a white man's world, but I'm glad you called me here today, cincala."

Beside her, Michael grimaced. He was a man in his late fifties, and yet the old Indian insisted on calling him a child. Then again, Grandfather was ancient. He had no idea how old Grandfather really was - in fact, he did not even know Grandfather's real name.

He had always been Grandfather.

The elderly medicine man was one of the most powerful wizards on American soil. Though he held no official position on the council, he was frequently consulted on many important matters. He was one of the few people who were very wise without ever having a formal education.

Grandfather lived on the Yellow Medicine Indian Reservation in Minnesota. Though he could have left his dirt-poor origins, Indians could be a very stubborn people, and Grandfather was nothing if not stubborn. But living on the reservation did have one advantage - unlike the rest of the country, most Native Indians held deeply spiritual beliefs and respected special powers, which in Grandfather's case, was magic.

Grandfather turned away from the two British citizens and began hobbling down the path. "I know Voldemort, and I knew Dumbledore. Fools, I thought them both. Four years ago, when I said we shouldn't involve ourselves in their affairs, I was right."

"Are you saying we should do the same thing?" Michael offered his arm to Grandfather as they ascended the small incline. "The Council found their proposal valid, at least business-wise. If we invest the amount they requested now, we are guarantied a percentage of the profits from their exports, and if the government can remain stable, the amount will only go up."

"Dumbledore offered us those same incentives," said Grandfather.

"Yes, but their economy was just entering a slump period. Our own analysts have privately been looking over their accounts, and the goblins at Gringotts have been surprisingly helpful. I don't believe Britain's economy can get any worse that it is right now. Buying into their economy right now, when shares are at their lowest, is an advantage I'd hate to ignore."

And yet, unsaid was, Say the word, and I will ignore it.

"There's more to the situation than money." Grandfather's voice held a hint of reproof. "There are moral questions to answer as well as fiscal ones."

"Like Voldemort?" The woman now spoke.

"Yes." He eyed his granddaughter fondly. Grace Elk River, like him, had been born magical, and also like him, had followed the footsteps of a healer. Shifting to look at Michael, he said, "I'm not sure how long we'll need to worry about Voldemort. From what I have seen, he is like Scarecrow. His unnatural long life cannot continue, no matter how many potions they try to create. No magic is stronger than the magic of Mother Earth, and Mother has said that everyone must one day die."

Michael nodded thoughtfully. "The Council was planning to agree to Malfoy's conditions with some conditions of our own - that we can back out of the deal at any time, with our money returned to us - at the threat of economic sanction if they allow the loan to default, and that we send one of our own to observe their government in action - to alleviate our concerns on how they handle the moral situation."

Grandfather nodded. "Sounds good to me."

"Perhaps, if you're feeling up to it...?"

The old man chuckled. "These old bones wouldn't be much use. I'd be sleeping the whole time." He tapped the ground with his walking stick. "Send Gracie instead."

"Me?" Grace shook her head. "Tunksila, I'm not ready."

"You're a fully trained witch, Grace." Michael's mind was already processing the details. Grace had always been gifted empathy - she was a prime choice for this mission.

Her jaw clenched. "I'm a healer. Not a witch."

Grandfather placed a hand on Grace's shoulder. "In the white man's world, our Gracie is a witch. In ours, she is more than human. Holy. We do not fear this as the white man does."

"Of course," said Michael soothingly. But in Britain, her magical powers will be more accepted. She can live there without fear."

"I don't live in fear. The reservation is my home; I don't want to leave it. Indians don't do well away from home." Though Grace was looking at Michael as she spoke, she was really speaking to her grandfather.

Grandfather smiled at her. "It is time for you to leave the nest. My dreams say so. Jim Running Dear's dreams say so. You are ours, you will always be ours. But for a time, we will loan you to the British - as an act of peace and friendship. And hope." He looked up at the sky. "Maybe a new world is coming. We will send them Gracie to help. She can teach them. To pray. And to dance."

Michael scratched his head. "Just how do you know all these things, Tunksila?"

"The spirits speak to me because I listen."

The white man nodded in acceptance. "I'm going to go inside and tell the others. We can then inform Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger." He inclined his head respectfully and began jogging back the rest of the way.

Grandfather took Grace's arm again. Both walked in silence until Grace finally spoke, "Why are you sending me away?"

"These people need you, Gracie. They don't see magic as anything more than a convenience. They have forgotten to respect that magic. They don't honor their ancestors. And they forget to pay homage to the most magical being of all - the earth itself."

"I can't reach these people on my own, Tunksila."

"Takoja, we will speak often, and besides, I have drilled far too many lessons into that contrary head of yours. You will be without my company, not my wisdom." His eyes twinkled. "And who knows? Maybe you'll find a man."

"Tunksila! You're wicked." Grace shook her head. "White man doesn't go well with the Indian. We've seen the results of that too many times."

Grandfather nodded. "Perhaps this trip will benefit you as well. Who knows, you might even learn a thing or two across the ocean. So pack a pretty dress anyway."