This is my first Dramione fic published here! Please, I hope you enjoy! And please please please, tell me what you think!
I own nothing but the typos :)
When The Smoke Clears
"Yes, could I please speak with Mr. Draco Malfoy? This is Hermione Granger from the Daily Prophet."
"I'm sorry ma'am, he no longer lives here."
Years after the war has ended, Hermione is hoping to write the piece of her career and goes in search for a man who is hoping to forget it all.
Hermione slammed down the phone again and crossed off the address that she was given on the piece of paper. It's the fourth call she's made re-guarding his residence and it's the fourth time she's been told that he no longer lives there. She knows she's on the right trail, because there is only one Draco Malfoy in the world. No one would want to name their children after that name. Not after everything that's happened.
Hermione sighed and looked down at the shambles of her article on her desk. Bits and pieces were complete, a few interviews from other Slytherins, a photo here and there, but nothing like the one thing she wanted. She wanted to hear what happened from the one person (besides herself, Ron and Harry) who was in the center of it all. She wanted to hear that side of things.
She needed Malfoy's interview.
It wasn't ideal, that's for sure, to ask for Malfoy's help. And he was more than allowed to decline it. But she was hoping, and somewhat praying that he'd allow her the chance to be spoken too, even if he were to speak down to her. As long as he gave her something of a tale she'd be perfectly fine. Looking down on her desk, she looked at the last address.
Karmellie Lane, La Bourboule France
There was no number or address, just a lane and a town for the place. That meant she'd have to spend the rest of the day just getting there. With a sigh, she picked up the address and stuffed it into her expanding purse along with a few quills and her notes for the article, before stepping out and towards her bosses office. She knocked on the wood door and was greeted with a loud 'Come in' followed by the door opening.
"Can I help you Hermione?" said the old man behind the desk, not lifting his eyes from the toy he was playing with on the desk.
"I'm going out to do some research, for that article," Hermione said, "I'd thought I'd let you know before I left."
"You found Mr. Malfoy, I presume?" the man picked up his head and looked over his glasses to her.
"Well," Hermione huffed, "It's the last address I have. If it doesn't work out I'll be back before the end of the day. If it is him, I'll send you an owl."
The old gray man smiled at her kindly.
"See you later then," he said, "And good luck, I hope you found your man!"
Hermione closed the door and started toward the exit. She grabbed her jacket and scarf that hung by the door before stepping out into the designated apparating room. Tucking her scarf around her neck, she thought of the small village in France and quickly disappeared into the stale air of the daily prophet.
The warm sun filled the tiny village when Hermione regained her footing. Finding her balance she inhaled the clean air, the scent of crisp clear water filling her nostrils. She exhaled a heavy sigh, even the scent of the air felt homey, like when she would return from Hogwarts to her parents house. It made Hermione feel young again.
She took in the small village shops and, upon further inspection discovered the town to be muggle, with muggle cafes and bookstores and shady umbrellas at outdoor tables. Looking up and down the streets she could tell it was late afternoon, and, after glancing at her watch for confirmation discovered it to be around 4 o clock, late for a small rural town. Straight out her scarf (now blistering her skin in warmth) Hermione wandered into the nearest building, a small neat cafe with a very petite woman behind the counter, hurriedly rearranging scones.
"Bon Jour," the woman said and after a pause in noticing she was a stranger spoke again in english, "Hello. Can I help you?"
"I'm afraid I'm lost," Hermione feigned, "I'm looking for a Karmellie Lane?"
"You are looking for Mr. Malfoy, no?"
Hermione nodded. The woman smiled at her.
"Yes," she said, "He is the only one who lives on that street. To get to his house I'm afraid it takes a half a day's walk or an hour in car."
"Do you know a place where I can rent a car perhaps?" Hermione asked, feeling silly to the obvious elephant in the room.
The woman laughed and smiled, bushing a lock of brunette hair back out of her face.
"My husband would be happy to take you. Jean!"
From behind the cafe counter, the swinging kitchen door opened to reveal a fair haired man with a strong jaw and kind eyes. The man looked over to his wife and smiled at her. She spoke for a moment in fluent, beautiful french before the man looked over at Hermione and nodded his head with a small smile.
"I would be honored to take you to Mr. Malfoy's house," he said with a very thick french accent. Hermione smiled at him.
"Thank you," she said, tucking her bag up her shoulder and removing her sweltering scarf and stuffing it in the bag. Jean removed his apron and grabbed the keys off the hook by the counter. He stepped aside and held the door open for Hermione before he ducked out behind her. He clicked the remote button to the small blue fiat parked over by the side of the building.
Once they both settled into the car, the man turned over the engine and started toward the edge of the village.
"Are you," he started, pausing to gather what he wanted to say in english, "Have you come to be his new care taker?"
Hermione kept quiet for a moment. Caretaker? Malfoy needed a caretaker?
"No," Hermione said with a smile, "I'm a, a family friend."
"Oh," he said, "They have never spoken of family."
Hermione smiled, "Not really family," she recovered, "Family from Hogwarts."
"I understand," he agreed, not wanting to push the subject. Hermione nodded her head and went back to staring out the window. The golden autumn light bounced of the dead grass, making the rolling hills look like gold fabric with glittering hints of silk thread woven between them. Tall branchy trees swayed in the wind. slowly the golden rolling hills turned into rolling hills of green vines, long rows of a vineyard stretching as far as the eye could see. In the warm sunlight everything seemed to have almost a romantic glimmer to it and Hermione could not picture Malfoy living somewhere as pleasant as this.
They had been driving for about an hour before Hermione saw the first glimpses of a house off in the distance. It wasn't actually the house she saw first but the glittering sparkling water of a lake, clearly not there by natural accident. Nestled between the rolling expanse of the vineyards was an off white mansion with a beautiful garden and sprawling meadow of golden grass. Hermione couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped her lips. It was beautiful.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" Jean said, "Mr. Malfoy has made quite a beautiful home out of this valley."
"How long has he been here?" Hermione asked, watching out the window as the car began driving down the long road toward the beautiful gates.
"Eh, it's hard to say," he said, "Quite some time now. He rarely comes into town. I've seen him but a few times. His wife comes into town. Beautiful blonde girl she is and his daughter is just bella-beautiful."
So Malfoy was married, and had a daughter. Hermione reminded herself to ask him about his family life. Maybe he wasn't as strange as this choice of lifestyle. As they approached the mansion, she got a better look at the house. It was a beautiful white mansion with arc paneled windows and tall romantic columns that lined the round porch. Two bronze snake statues sat near the top of the circular driveway, nestled comfortably between shrubs. Jean pulled up to the gates, and Hermione was perfectly content with just pressing the call box when they opened and he drove in.
"Thank you," Hermione said to the man, "For everything."
The man smiled at her. "Good luck," he said and with that she closed the door and watched him drive off.
Turning back to the house, Hermione sighed, staring up at the tall home. It was large, sure, but she was not intimidated by it's size. It seemed, almost cozy. Shoving her bag up her shoulder a little bit more, she climbed up the steps and onto the shaded porch. She noticed the beautiful knockers on the door and let her fingers run over the gold plates before lifting one to find them surprisingly heavy. She let it fall, hear the knock become a beautiful melody of chimes inside the house. There was a clatter somewhere in the place and it was only moments before the door was opened.
A small house elf blinked up at her.
"Hello," Hermione said cheerfully, "Is there anyone home who I can speak too?"
The elf moved aside and pulled the door open wider, allowing Hermione into the grand entrance way, where two wide sweeping staircases greeted the marble white floor. In the center of the room was a grand statue, a horse leaping out from what looked like a curling wave, it's mane flowing backwards. She gazed in awe at the massive piece of art work, the details were so incredible-
She was interrupted by a small tug on her hand. She looked down to see the timid elf trying to catch her attention. She smiled at the creature as it started walking away, glancing back to make sure Hermione was following. The elf lead her along the back of the mansion, large paneled windows displayed the backyard and glittering lake, letting warm light leak onto the carpet, spilling over with color. The elf stopped and it was just then that Hermione heard the soft sound of a piano playing. The elf looked up at her, and, in an effort to open the doors, showed Hermione that it was just too small to reach these handles. Hermione smiled.
"Thank you," she said before placing a hand on the door. Twisting the knob she pushed aside the white door and entered.
A beautiful blonde woman sat by a white piano over by the window at the other end of the enormous room. Bookcases from floor to ceiling lined the walls. Green plush couches and chairs were scattered by reading lamps and gold leaf-lined tables. tucked away in the corner was a beautiful white piano. The woman's hair was in cascading curls down her back, picture perfect ringlets that fells down the length of her back, bent over the ivory keys of the piano. She was playing a beautiful melody Hermione had never heard before. Her long dark eyelashes swept over her cheeks. This must be Draco's wife, Hermione thought gazing at how pretty she was.
She stopped playing when the door behind Hermione creaked an then clamored shut. Startled, the woman looked up from the keys, turning her face. Hermione couldn't see the other half of her face because it was hidden in shadow, but the girl looked familiar.
"Hermione?" she said, her voice soft and airy. The woman stood up tall and elegant and approached her. As she drew closer Hermione could see it. There was a long thick deep scar running the length of her face, cutting through her eye and across her cheek where it was joined by a swathe of criss crossed scars, healed, but still gruesome to look at. She smiled at Hermione as she got closer and Hermione could place her.
"Daphne?" she said astonished, "Daphne Greengrass? You're Malfoy's wife?"
She laughed, a golden bell laugh, "Merlin no!" she said, "I'm his care taker."
Hermione gave her a wiry smile.
What was going on here?
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