A/N: Set at the end of the books, before they grew up and had that random assortment of children.
Hermione always found it mildly awkward, thinking back to her first sexual experience, especially since it was completely unplanned and with the last person she had expected. People, if she told them, always wanted to know why. And there wasn't a why. There just wasn't.
She wished she could say it was due to drinking or a charm. Hell, a love potion would have been a fantastic excuse… but sometimes things just happened, and because she was a socially-dim sort… she didn't always choose the right responses to things.
That was just her though; Hermione Granger.
She wouldn't bother naming him, because he had no idea that this… thing he created was even his. Hermione did the sensible thing and handed the child over to her mother to raise. Everyone thought the child was her (incredibly younger) sister. Hell though, being twenty when just having had one's first child; Hermione wasn't prepared for that. When she took the forgetting charm off her parents, they were consumed by this need to care. It's like they knew what Hermione had done. The child silenced all of the unnamed fear they didn't understand. Hermione went away on the pretence of research (Hermione had staved off further study until the child was born – taking up a research assistant job, something she was well suited for). Her child looked exactly like him though; not many people have almost pure white-blonde hair. She shared Hermione's face-shape but kept to his colouring, her build. Hermione tried to avoid introducing Harry and Ron to her, she really did. Hermione just didn't anticipate how stubborn they would be.
Harry and Ron were looking at the addition to Hermione's family they had never met before, and were clearly trying to be tactful. Hermione lounged on a nearby chair and nervously tapped a quill against her notepad. She really had more important things to work on today; namely research, as what had begun as her year off had stretched into the beginnings of a career. The object of their attention played along, blissfully unaware on the other side of the room, with her doll. Her hair was in pigtails but she was dressed blatantly as a boy. All too late, Hermione realised how dim of her it was to allow that this morning.
"How old is she again?" Harry eventually managed, shaking his head as though he wished to clear something from his mind. Hermione dropped her quill onto the notepad eagerly and stood up from her parent's armchair. This she could answer!
"Five. Mum had her five years ago. Her birthday was two months ago."
"She reminds me of someone." Ron mused aloud, eating a biscuit her mother had handed him on the way in. Hermione nervously grabbed a teacup from the tray on the coffee table and poured herself a drink. She spilled a little but ignored the mess and took a gentle sip.
"Where did that hair come from?" Harry finally asked; referring to the fact absolutely everyone in Hermione's family was a brunette. She studied the tea in her cup before answering.
"A great-aunt." Hermione managed to squeak.
"Hmm." Harry mused, accepting the cup of tea she had offered him.
"Why haven't we met her before?" Ron asked casually. Hermione swallowed nervously and blinked at him slowly.
"Well, she lives in the muggle world." She managed. "I don't want to expose her to anything just in case she's…"
"A squib!" Ron gasped, shocked. "That didn't even occur to me."
Not bloody likely, with her heritage. Hermione thought to herself grimly.
"Yes, so we have to be tactful." She said to Harry, who was idly balancing his wand on the back of his hand.
"Oh, right." Harry hurriedly stowed it away in his pocket.
"She's… feminine." Ron failed at disguising his questioning of her attire. Hermione followed his gaze and studied her romper pants and boy's t-shirt.
"Well, she seems to ignore the fact I put her hair in pigtails and argues too much about clothes. She's noticed that when I dress her up she can't get those clothes dirty." Hermione looked back at her two oldest friends to see that they were both staring at her with horrified expressions.
"Hermione-" Harry began. All too late Hermione realised how she had been talking about her: motherly-like.
"Well mum needs a hand with her; young things are a handful for one person." Hermione hastily added. Both boys visibly relaxed. Ron swivelled around and smiled at her.
"Hi there Helen!" He beamed at her. The child in question dropped her toys and fixed him with an expression of pure malice.
"She does that." Hermione said helplessly.
"Well she's… cute." Harry tried. Helen screwed up her nose even more, standing up to add to the level of scathing.
"Helen?" Hermione tried, holding out her arms. She looked at Hermione (less angrily), then at the boys, and finally screwed up her face; drawing in enough breath to-
"Helen!" Hermione's mother (thank god) entered the room at that exact moment to sweep her up in her arms. "What's with that face?"
"That was terrifying." Ron hissed, swinging around to face their intimate circle once more. Hermione's mother left the room with Helen and Hermione studied her cup with focus her professors would have been proud of.
"That child is a demon!" Ron continued.
"Hey!" Hermione snapped at him. "Careful what you say about her."
"Did you see her face when I called her cute? She looked livid!" Harry was amused.
"I'm not sure why she does that." Hermione conceded.
"Blimey, Hermione." Ron sighed. "If that's what children are like I'm going to avoid having any, anytime soon."
"Same here. I better let Ginny know!" Harry laughed.
"Very funny." Hermione rolled her eyes.
Harry lasted roughly thirty seconds longer before blurting out what everyone else was thinking.
"She looks almost exactly like Ferret did back in Hogwarts." He clapped his hands over his mouth as soon as he'd said it, as though that would lessen the accusation. Hermione gaped at him and tried to figure out how to get her mouth working again.
"Are you suggesting my mother had an affair with Lucius Malfoy?" She finally managed.
"Blimey Harry, that's a stretch, even for you." Ron breathed, shocked.
"An outlandish one, at that." Hermione added, unnecessarily. Harry stared at her for a moment.
"Well you were away on research in Nepal when she was –assumedly- conceived." Harry said placidly. Hermione blanched, unbeknownst to Ron.
"Wasn't he in Azkaban?" Ron mused aloud. "I think your theory is off Harry."
Harry, however, was studying the fact she was a tad fatter than Hogwarts' days, Hermione could tell.
"Look, I just got fat, alright? Stop assuming I went off to Nepal to have a secret child!" Hermione yelled, flinging down her teacup so that it shattered. Both boys paled considerably and Harry attempted to salvage the situation.
"I didn't assume that at all, 'Mione!" He tried. "You're not that fat."
"Oh, so I'm a little fat?" Hermione hissed, livid.
"Harry, shut up Harry." Ron muttered to his friend.
"Well, maybe you're a little fatter than you were at Hogwarts, but that is to be expected when you age. It would look a bit daft if you stayed the same weight for the rest of your life. Your neck might snap off because your head got too big. Not that your head is too big." Harry rambled.
"Shut up Harry." For once, Ron was the sane one in the conversation. Hermione simply stared at the boy-who-lived.
"Your head is the perfect size; it's just your curls that make it look bigger. Your hair is just big, not you. There." Evidentially pleased with how he had handled the situation, Harry sat down again. Hermione glared at him with wide eyes.
"So, I might leave now." Ron managed, standing up and gathering his things. "Harry, remember that thing you had to help me do?"
"What thing?" Harry asked dimly.
"That thing." Ron reiterated, grabbing him by the ear. Being a rather tall, sinewy man himself, he succeeded in half-dragging the boy-who-lived off. Hermione watched them leave and then threw herself down in a chair, exhausted. She had not helped diffuse the situation at all. Now suspicion would only grow.
Her mother had put Helen down for a nap so she said her goodbyes and left her parents' small cottage. After quickly fixing her –bushy- hair in the bathroom, she donned a coat and apparated to Knockturn Alley (it had been fully restored to its normal glory after You-Know-Who had destroyed it years earlier). Sighing, she spotted a café –Witch Thyme Café- and collapsed in a folding chair inside. She almost collapsed a second time when she spotted who wandered in a moment later.
Draco Malfoy, his arm in the small of a plastic-looking witch's back, entered the establishment and was in the process of selecting a table when his eyes found her face. He froze, and appeared to be considering running away. The plastic-looking witch exclaimed something inane, however, and he appeared trapped. For the life of him, however, he could not tear his eyes away from Hermione's face.
Likewise, Hermione felt like a deer trapped in muggle-headlights. The male waiter placed her coffee in front of her and rather stupidly, she managed to dunk her hand in it whilst adding sugar. Swearing, she kneaded it into the folds of her skirts and hoped Malfoy hadn't noticed. He had.
"Well that's rather normal of you." He managed scathingly as her eyes found him suddenly at her table. The blonde witch he had been with a moment earlier was nowhere to be seen.
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes and he tried again.
"One doesn't often see Mudbloods dip their fingers in coffee."
Hermione continued to stare at him in half-terror.
"Look, why are you looking at me life that?" Malfoy finally said, exasperated.
"Hello?" Hermione managed.
"Yes, remember me? Draco Malfoy?" He was clearly insulted that she wasn't putting two-and-two together.
"Hello Malfoy." Hermione repeated.
"What on earth is wrong with you Granger?" Malfoy was irritated now.
"I, uh, haven't seen you for… a while." She flailed as to what to say.
"Five years, to be exact." He smirked.
"Er… almost six, if you do that math." Hermione absently corrected him.
Annoyance briefly flashed across his face but he dismissed it.
"Can't say you're the person I expected to see here."
"Likewise." Hermione managed.
"This is my girlfriend's favourite café." Malfoy continued.
"Ah." Hermione blinked as she stared at her cup. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she took in the last piece of information she wanted to hear. Malfoy looked similarly torn.
"Look you might want to know-" He began.
"Draco!" A voice squealed. Hermione looked up to see the blonde bimbo had returned. She wore a face full of makeup. It wasn't bad makeup, it was just too much. She had even pencilled in needless eyebrows. They contrasted heavily with her potion-enhanced hair which appeared to be striving after the natural Malfoy colour.
"Pansy, you remember Granger?" Malfoy belatedly introduced them.
Pansy? Hermione's mouth almost hit the floor as she took that in. But oh yes, the hair-colour change, the makeup… underneath it all… and with the weight loss… ugh, it was Pansy.
"Oh, you." Pansy greeted courteously. "Draco, have you even ordered?"
Hermione simply stared at Malfoy with disbelief. He tore his eyes away from her face to address Pansy.
"No, sit down over there," his finger pointed out a suitable spot, "and I'll go do that."
When Pansy had tottered off in her heels, Malfoy looked back at Hermione.
"Look, this is going to be awkward for you." He finally said. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and for the second time that day, felt like flinging her cup on the floor.
"Excuse me? You think after six years I still harbour anything for you? Go away Malfoy."
"No, you aren't listening to me, Granger." Malfoy seemed strangely insistent. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"Go away!" She repeated. He scowled at her and then did so, walking up to the counter. Hermione tuned out completely until she overheard something ghastly ten minutes later.
She glanced over at Pansy and Malfoy to see the last thing she could cope with right now; Malfoy, on one knee, was holding up a little box to Pansy, before the entire café.
"Yes Draco! Yes I will!" Pansy screamed, delighted, at the top of her lungs.
Hermione felt physically sick. She was surprised she wasn't caught in the gravitational pull of that stupidly large rock on that ring. The entire café erupted into pleased applause. Placing her cheek firmly on the fist of a propped-up arm, she stared into her cup and focussed on breathing in and out.
She didn't notice the surreptitious glance Draco threw her way.
Hermione didn't live with her parents, in fact, she only saw her daughter once every fortnight. When she had had the child, her mother had refused the possibility of any torn feelings.
You either raise her yourself, or she is mine to raise alone. If you want to be her mother you will have to bring her up yourself. This way, you can go on with your life. You can have more input when you tell us who the bloody father is!
It had been poignant, the rant. Hermione had felt incredibly relieved to have such clear boundaries. The British were quite proper in their care of children. She felt guilty for saddling her parents with such responsibility but her father had laughed and said they'd send the child to boarding school as soon as they could. Mildly shocked, Hermione attempted to lavish Helen with as much care as she could. The child developed an interesting personality however, strangely reminiscent of someone… she was definitely entertaining, you could say that.
Hermione threw her keys onto a bench and plonked herself down on the sofa with a cup of coffee. Her flatmate, Percy Weasley, strode in from another room with a book in his hands it appeared he was yelling at. He was wearing one of those tweed, leather-elbow numbers.
"WHEN YOU ANNOTATE MY NOTES I DO NOT APPRECIATE YOU SWAPPING AROUND PUNCTUATION AND CHANGING WHAT THEY MEAN! 'LET'S EAT, GRANDMOTHER', IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM, 'LET'S EAT GRANDMOTHER'! AM I MAKING MYSELF CLEAR?"
The book murmured something in response.
"THANK YOU KINDLY! NOW KEEP THAT IN MIND FOR FUTURE, WILL YOU?" Percy snapped the book shut and blinked at Hermione in surprise. "Hermione. You're home."
"How observant of you, Percy." She responded with a raised eyebrow.
"Work." He answered vaguely. "We've charmed these books to do our editing for us and the damned things keep messing with the punctuation. Seem to think it's funny, for some reason."
"Shall we swap? Research is getting rather dull." Hermione responded, waving her notebook at him. The lock of the cover growled in a dissenting manner. "Guess what? I just had to stomach a certain Malfoy proposing to a certain ex-pupil of Hogwarts by the name of Pansy. Disgusting, no?"
"Oh that is ghastly. How on earth did you manage to come across that?" Percy exclaimed, whipping off his glasses and sinking into the plush sofa-chair. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Of all places, I managed to accidentally choose her favourite café for a drink. It's like he chose the best vantage point across from me to stage the proposal. Ugh."
"And you didn't walk out?" Percy was perplexed.
"Ah no. There were too many people standing up to congratulate them." Hermione sighed. She took a deep sip of her drink and gazed at Percy. "This is depressing."
"What? Your lack of marriage? Likewise. We could always marry each other if I were so inclined!" Percy grinned.
"Oh yes, fantastic plan. I'm sure your mother will stop wondering why you don't bring home women, then."
"Hmm. How is Malfoy looking, anyway?" Percy asked with a twinkle in his eye. Hermione hurled a sofa-cushion at him.
"Thank god you're here to keep me sane." She smiled.
"Did you even make me a coffee?" Percy answered.
Hermione was preparing for bed later that night when an owl surprised her by tapping at her window. Intrigued, she let it in and relieved it of its letter. It responded by biting her on the finger. Annoyed, she read the following correspondence.
Granger,
Callous though I am; some things are tasteless. I did not expect someone like you to be present at my proposal. My apologies.
D. Malfoy.
The temperature of her blood rising, Hermione crumpled the letter into a tight ball and turned to glare at the owl present. It fixed moon-like eyes on her face and she smoothed out Malfoy's letter so that she could write on the back.
Malfoy, you git,
If you wish for things to be private, propose in a bloody cellar.
I wish you all the happiness in the world with that dim, shell of a personality.
H. Granger.
Hermione rolled up the note, handed it to the owl, and managed to let it back outside without being bitten again. Scowling, she glared at her reflection and unclipped the section she'd held back whilst she washed her face. How dare he patronise her so? She was chubby because of him. She missed the slim build she'd possessed before he thickened her up with child. Hermione brushed her teeth and spat the toothpaste into the sink. If she saw Malfoy ever again she would attack him with or without a scalding cup of coffee.
Rather unluckily, when she walked into work the next day, she found him sitting in a chair, with her superior, in her office. He seemed to be just as shocked to see her, for both gaped openly before Hendrik got the conversational ball rolling.
"Hermione! I was just telling Mr Malfoy here about your work. He's going to join us on the Gnorkin research project. Those little buggers!" Hendrik laughed at his own observation. "We've managed to get a whole crate of them from Siberia so that you can study them. Not in the clinic, however. The graduates can do the trials and then give you their results to turn into publishable articles. Malfoy is here to give his expertise; he's completed his Masters in the field."
"Fantastic." Hermione managed, flashing Malfoy a fake smile. The man in question went red (or normal skin-toned, for him) and drummed his long fingers on the desk. Hendrik plonked down a vast collection of files (where did he keep getting them from?) and left them to it. Hermione picked up the first stapled document and found it was actually Malfoy's thesis. Soured, she abruptly dropped it.
"So, cheery letter I received last night." Malfoy offered up for discussion. Hermione sat down and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. Hendrik had informed her there was someone she would be working with for the foreseeable future, but she hadn't bothered to check who. How unlucky for all involved.
"So, you'll be working on this project for the full six months?" She said instead.
"Yes. I signed my contract this morning before you got here." Malfoy verified. He looked horrified at the very prospect… probably because if he walked away from this it would be detrimental to his career.
"I feel ill." Hermione blurted out, racing out of the room. She made it to the bathroom before being sick in the sink and faced up to her reflection with panicked eyes. This was awful. She had been living under the pretence that she would never have to deal with Malfoy ever again. He was far too charming to be allowed in her day-to-day life. He dressed well for god's sake! He spoke eloquently! Ugh!
She performed a quick charm to rid the smell of nausea from her breath before entering the room once more. Two cups sat on the table; one before Malfoy and one before an empty chair. At her questioning glance he explained that the tea lady had come in.
"Don't think I would go to the effort of making you a beverage." He elaborated, eliciting another scowl from her.
"How on earth am I supposed to work with you?" Hermione demanded.
"Well, technically I am working with your superior. He is just too busy to spend the amount of hours required and as you write up his work…" Malfoy trailed off.
"You insufferable git." Hermione said through clenched teeth.
"Why did you never go on to further study, anyway?" Malfoy continued, genuinely interested. "You got even higher marks than myself."
"Something came up." Hermione answered vaguely.
"As in what?" Malfoy pressed, a smirk on the edges of his lips.
"My mother had another child." Hermione snapped. Malfoy blinked at her.
"Why on earth would that change your life course?"
"Who knows?" Hermione sighed, looking away. Malfoy shot her a suspicious glance.
"It's not like it's-" He froze before finishing that statement and looked at her again. Hermione glared at him with the full power of her irritation. Malfoy swallowed some of his coffee and attempted to change the subject.
"Anyone special in your life?" He tried. Hermione continued to glare at him.
"That is none of your business." She responded.
"Ah, basically means no, doesn't it." He half said to himself. "Is this your office then?" He said, looking around himself. Hermione realised something all too late when his eyes fell upon a muggle snapshot of someone he wasn't supposed to see: Helen.
Malfoy's face went utterly white, then. He was on the opposite side of her, at her desk, and she was struck by the sudden urge to steal the photograph in its frame, from his vision. Her parents and her were in another photograph, to the side, but she had liked it too much to replace it with a whole family shot of the four of them. Malfoy picked up the snapshot of Helen and studied it.
"Yes, that's my sister." Hermione attempted to diffuse the situation. She waited for him to put it down, but he didn't.
"Malfoy?" Hermione snapped. He ignored her. She tried again with, "Draco?"
At this, his eyes snapped up from the photograph to her face. They remained locked there as he searched for answers. Hermione felt uncomfortable in that gaze.
"The hair is from a great-aunt." She added, feeling useless.
"How old is she?" He asked.
"Seven." She lied.
"Hmm." He clearly didn't believe her.
"Well, are we going to get started or not?" Hermione demanded.
"Fine, Granger." Malfoy assented, and he heaved his satchel onto the table to take out his notes.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, thankful he had fallen for her incredibly see-through lies.
Draco didn't believe Granger for a second. He watched as she unconsciously tucked her hair behind an ear for the umpteenth time as began to look through the vast pile of notes that pompous prat had left them.
He'd almost had a heart attack when he'd seen her the other day in Pansy's favourite café. It had almost been enough for him to throw that damned ring in the Thames, like he'd wanted to do all along. However, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys never went back on their word. He'd regretted proposing almost instantly, however.
Hermione hadn't changed terribly much, over the years. There was a noticeable difference around the hips and bust, but it wasn't displeasing to the eye. Her face had the angularity of age, and it suited her. She still had that damned unmanageable hair, but it seemed to be in better condition than the previous years. She was attractive, damn it. She had skin that looked flawless without makeup; although he could swear she was wearing at least a touch of mascara.
That photograph was definitely disturbing him. Surreptitiously, he laid it down flat. Damn, she'd looked up at the sound. He wasn't very subtle. He needed to distract her, now.
"So Mudblood, your hair is still as crazed as ever." He managed. He was rewarded with a healthy scowl.
"You're still a pompous arse." She retorted. "And none of this is suitable for the workplace." She added, as an afterthought.
"You've filled out a bit since Hogwarts's days." He continued along his charming list of observations.
"Oh shut up, Malfoy. I see you've laid my photograph face-down. How very mature of you."
"Well I am a little perturbed by the resemblance of that child to-" All too late, he stopped talking. Hermione looked frightened at how the conversation was turning. He couldn't help it; awful how they were, Malfoy's handled things like this in a certain way.
"Malfoy's don't have bastard children." He blurted out. Hermione looked horrified. Oh, she probably thought he meant- "I mean, we deal with situations like these." Oh drat, that sounded even worse. "I mean, not in any way that's detrimental to the child!"
"That's nice to know." Hermione said quickly. "Although I don't know why you're saying this, considering you aren't in any situation that warrants you explaining these things."
"I'm sorry, I just can't help but assume, judging by the age of-"
"She's seven! It happened before you and I!" Hermione cried over the top of whatever he was going to say.
"Oh come on, that is not a seven year-old." Draco scoffed.
"Fine, she's five. Happy now?" Hermione spat. They stared at one another. Draco felt sick now.
"Five?" He repeated helplessly.
"No one knows. No one." Hermione spelled it out for him. "No one."
"Oh, then that erases the knowledge I've just come across." He said sarcastically.
"Look, I didn't even intend for you to ever find out." Hermione exclaimed.
"I can't marry Pansy now!" Draco burst out. Hermione gaped at him.
"Why not?"
"Are you honestly asking me that question? You have given birth to my first born and you ask me that question?" Draco stared at her in confusion, and anger.
"If you were so concerned about firstborns, then why didn't you muster up some form of protection?" Hermione demanded.
He hadn't considered that.
"Would it be too far-fetched to say that it honestly didn't occur to me?" He asked. Hermione widened her eyes at him.
"Well, come on. You're half to blame." Draco accused her. She didn't bother to argue with him.
"It's too late to argue about this now. What are you proposing, anyway?" Hermione demanded. Draco stood up so suddenly, his chair fell over. He walked around her desk so that he was beside her, and then dropped onto one knee.
"Oh you cannot be serious." Hermione gasped, standing up and pushing him away.
"I am, hardly thrilled about this either, but this is my blood we are talking about." Draco frowned.
Hermione stared at him.
"I watched you propose to someone only a couple of days ago." She cried.
And it was to this scene that Hendrik walked in on; Draco kneeling before an obviously flushed Hermione.
"My god, so I picked a good person for you to work with then, Hermione?" He exclaimed, with mirth.
Hermione was in tears when Percy arrived home, but for all the life of her she could not explain why.
"What's wrong?" Percy demanded, yet again. Hermione rolled onto her side on the couch and clutched a pillow dramatically.
"If I told you someone important had told me they wanted to spend the rest of their life with me, would you be happy?" She managed.
"Well, that sounds like good news." Percy said dubiously.
"What if I added it was only because they felt they had to?" Hermione sobbed.
"Ah. The plot thickens." Percy frowned. "Why do they think they have to?" He asked, curious.
"I stupidly let them in on something they had no clue about." Hermione sniffled. "And now they feel guilty. I think."
"Well, cheer up Hermione. You've hardly a convoluted past. Things will look up shortly." Percy smiled, blissfully unaware. Hermione hugged the cushion a little harder and stared into space.
She'd gone home sick, of course. Hendrik was the old-fashioned romantic sort, with his frizzy beard and sparkling eyes. He'd patted her on the head and let her take the day off. He'd given Malfoy the day off also, dragging him off to give some pointers on how to romance a lady.
That hadn't stopped Malfoy from cornering her outside the building ten minutes later.
"Granger, come on." He'd exclaimed as he'd stepped in her path. Too close, for her liking. His face was an inch away from her own and she'd caught a whiff of his cologne. She closed her eyes for a moment and had wanted to fall into his arms then and there. Instead, she'd opened her eyes and fixed him with a frosty expression.
"I refuse to be a charity case." She'd snapped.
"I want to meet her." Malfoy had insisted. The thought made her blood run cold.
"I don't really have her anymore." Hermione whispered.
"What?" Malfoy looked alarmed.
"I gave her to my parents and they said if I didn't want any input on how she was raised… I couldn't have any input on how she was raised."
"Well you must see her sometime." Malfoy glared.
"Yes but honestly Draco, do you think I would bring you to my home for introductions? They will put two and two together. It is so glaringly obvious." Hermione cried.
He stared at her as tears trembled on her lower lashes.
"Why did you keep her?" He finally said.
"Why do you think?" Hermione whispered. She wanted him to hold her. She wanted him to say that everything could be alright now. She saw his arms twitch, as though he was going to fulfil her wishes and hastily stepped back. She had to cut this short, now.
"Because even though you are a ferret whom I hate, half of her is me, so that is enough to preserve the need for her to live. I gave her away because I couldn't stomach looking at something that reminded me of you. So don't beat yourself up over this ferret, I didn't." And with that, Hermione stalked off to apparate home to the couch, leaving a livid Draco Malfoy behind her.
That Mudblood was the most annoying person he had ever had to deal with in his life. As he let himself back into his shared apartment with Pansy, he winced as the girl flung herself at him in delight.
"Draco! You're home early!" She squealed. He mistook her excitement for happiness until he spied the men's trousers on the floor near the kitchen. Shoving her away from him, he followed the array of clothes until a ghastly view from behind alerted him to the presence of a fellow male in his apartment. Dean Thomas, from his year at school, swivelled round to appraise him for the first time since their final year at Hogwarts. He paid no attention to the fact he was naked.
"Oh, hello Malfoy." He grinned before a fist connected with his jaw. Draco pounced on him and beat him –almost- senseless as he vented his frustrations from earlier. Pansy was screaming in the doorway for him to stop. He wasn't bloodthirsty; god only knew how useless his punches were. He was caught off-guard as Dean returned one of the blows.
"Ooff!" Draco wheezed as he fell onto the floor. Dean Thomas, still naked, straddled him and began punching him in the nose. Suddenly Pansy was upon them, doing the only thing she could think of; dousing them both with some tepid vase water. It startled them back to their senses.
"Gah!" Draco cried, shoving the naked man off him. "Get some bloody clothes on!" He was disgusted.
"I thought you said he was away all day!" Dean yelled at Pansy.
"Look, all this shouting is bad for my skin!" Pansy shrieked. Both men looked at her in confusion. "I just break out, okay?" She wailed.
"Next you'll tell me you're pregnant." Draco scowled.
"What? No! You think I'd ruin this figure after so much work?" Pansy gasped in horror.
"You better not be." Dean scowled.
Draco stood up with as much dignity as he could muster and pointed towards the door. "Both of you, get out. And, Pansy?" He held out his arms. Stupidly, she rushed towards him. He performed a manoeuvre Voldemort would have been proud of, and wrestled the ring off her finger. "Out." He snarled. "I'll send you your things."
Sobbing, Pansy helped Dean gather his clothing and left in a flood of mascara. Weakened by the events, Draco sat down on the couch to mourn his bad luck. Blood was getting all over his favourite shirt. Damn that Granger!
Suddenly fatalistic, he walked over to the fireplace and took the lid off a small jar of floo powder. He tossed some on the flames and stuck his head in, telling it to take him to Hermione's. He expected to end up at her apartment or something of the sort. He didn't anticipate what else might happen…
…Until he was thrown out of the flames into her parent's cottage. Landing with a silent 'ooff', he rolled out of the ashes and hastily dusted off his clothing. He could hear the clink of cutlery in the other room and snuck close enough to the glass door separating the dining room from the lounge to see the back of a blonde head. The child abruptly threw her spoon on the carpet and began to scream.
"Oh Helen, shush now darling." A woman –Hermione's mother?- hurried to quieten her. Draco watched as the child screamed even louder, wriggling her way out of the woman's arms and onto the floor where she thrashed her limbs about with an admirable show of emotion.
"Ah the little tyke." Hermione's father noted good-naturedly.
Draco peered at the scene, wishing the child would turn around so he could see its face. Hermione's mother picked it up again and suddenly, wondrously, he was greeted with a profile view!
The child turned suddenly, and spied him through the glass-panelled door.
"Mummy there's a man!" Helen screamed enough to wake the dead.
Startled, Draco stumbled backwards from the pane of glass as Hermione's father stumbled out of his chair and into the room. As perceptions tilted enough for them to catch a glimpse he pulled his wand out and barely managed to-
Apparate. He found himself back in his living room, covered in the blood from his bloody nose, gasping for breath. That had been a terribly close call, but he had seen her. He had seen his daughter.
And save for the colouring, she looked eerily like Hermione. The photograph had not done her justice. Animated, in the flesh, she was a being. Something they had created. His blood ran cold at how she had screamed 'mummy'. She wasn't his. She wasn't even Hermione's anymore. That child believed those two people were her parents. He couldn't possibly take that away from her.
Hermione listened quietly as her parents attempted to describe the 'blonde, bloody man' they had seen in their house the previous night. They didn't understand, when she told them to brick up their fireplace, why they needed to do it.
"Wizards travel through the flames of a fireplace." She explained.
"But we hadn't lit a fire!" Her mother insisted.
"It is still a fireplace." Hermione said through gritted teeth.
"Who was that man anyway? Do you have any idea? He was staring at Helen the whole time." Her father said, worrying.
I have a fair idea who it was. Hermione thought to herself. Surely Malfoy would not attempt to steal Helen from them. Despite this disbelief, Hermione placed several powerful wards on the home and fireplace before she left again for her own apartment. Thankfully her parents had not notified the muggle police; having any visitors after this point would be difficult for them. With the wards in place barely anyone would fit the criteria needed to pass through that front (or any) door.
She let herself into her apartment and almost screamed when an arm snaked around her neck and dragged her into the living room, away from any windows. Fumbling for her wand, someone cursed it out of her hand and sent her sprawling onto the carpet. As she flung herself around to confront whoever it was, she found herself face-to-face with none other than Malfoy.
"Are you mad?" Hermione shrieked at him. When he didn't answer she felt the first needling of fear. He looked an absolute mess; the front of his shirt was stained with blood and it appeared he hadn't slept for a day or two. He looked incredibly upset.
"My life turned upside down since I saw you in that café." He informed her melodramatically. "You are unlucky."
"What on earth are you talking about Malfoy?" Hermione whispered. "Where is Percy?"
"I stunned him in the other room. Don't worry about him." Malfoy answered, looking miserable.
"What are you hoping to achieve here?" Hermione asked, fearfully. "Can you please put down your wand?"
"Please be quiet." Malfoy shouted at her, waving the wand dangerously. "You're not doing a very good job at listening."
"I will listen if you put down the wand."
"Silentium." Malfoy shouted, silencing her with a simple curse. Hermione struggled to make noise with her mouth but failed miserably.
"So I proposed to Pansy that day. We had been together a good four years!" Malfoy exclaimed, staring at her as though expecting an answer. When he realised he had already silenced her he let out a nervous giggle. "She got better looking with time."
"Everything was going marvellously, until I took that terrible choice of a job. Awkward that, walking in and seeing you. I wasn't very pleased about the turn of events. Especially since we had that awkward… meeting… those years ago. But I am an adult. Adults have consensual sex with people they never see again! I just didn't think about how unintelligent that was at the time. It's like those baby boomers after the war. Everyone was drunk on life. We all wanted to procreate like crazy. I should have been a tad… thoughtful. Whoops. Anyway, moving on…"
"You! Because you refused to accept my honourable proposal, I went home early. And Pansy that slut had just finished having sex with Dean Thomas. Dean. He's not even as charming as I am! I am charming, Hermione!" Malfoy wailed. He sat down beside her on the floor, their noses almost touching, and said, "voce."
"-I wasn't even drunk on life you fool, I liked you!" Hermione shouted, realising all too late that the silence curse had been lifted.
Malfoy gaped at her in shock and stumbled backwards so that he was sitting on his backside, pressed against the sofa.
"You cursed me!" Hermione shouted at him.
"You wouldn't shut up!" He was aghast.
"You never listen to anything!" Hermione yelled back.
"Were you serious?" Malfoy demanded. Hermione blinked at him, realising he wasn't frightening in the slightest, and offered a small smile.
"No seriously, silence tells me nothing. I need affirmation here." Malfoy continued, his words stifled as a certain brunette launched herself forward and silenced him with a kiss.
"I may have accidentally broken into your parents' home." Malfoy continued talking against her lips before she drew back to look at him.
"And?"
"I don't think I want to take her away from them." He conceded.
"That's good." Hermione beamed.
"But…"
Hermione's face fell. She knew it was too good to be true.
"But what?" She whispered.
"I would still like to try things again with you. With someone who's not a vapid, shell of a personality." Malfoy finished with a smirk.
Hermione playfully slapped him on the arm, but left her hand there. They stayed like that for some time. Long enough to realise Percy was still stunned in the other room. Malfoy left to go clear that up and Hermione went to go make them all a pot of coffee.
THE END!
A/N: :-)