Authors Note: Please note that the rating on this story has been changed from T to M. Sorry for any inconvenience.
New Years Eve: 7.00pm
Draco Malfoy
Draco felt utterly ridiculous, was it possible to feel even more ridiculous than he already did? Most likely not. He felt confused, frustrated and entirely spontaneous as he took Hermione Granger's arm and helped her into the town car awaited them at the foot of the Potter's entrance stairs. But this was not necessarily an entirely bad thing. Perhaps it would solve many of his problems in a single go, without the need for alcohol of any sort.
When alone it seemed to be his only comfort, the only way he could forget the way he had been used by the one he thought loved him as he did her. But clearly, that was not the case. It made him feeling ill inside even thinking of Astoria, she had fooled everyone, including him. Unluckily for Draco, he had fallen, hook, line and sinker for her ploy and he was lucky to not to have allowed it to destroy him. The potential for such a thing of course was there, however it would not only have ruined his career most likely, but hers as well. He slept safely, alone in his warm bed each night in this knowledge.
How much the world had changed since the Hogwarts days, how much had happened in such a short space of time? To think, it felt like only yesterday he had finished his final and sixth year of Hogwarts, it felt like only yesterday that he actually got a kick out of belittling Hermione Granger.
How the tides had changed.
If she knew, if she only knew what had happened to him these past few years, perhaps she too would have a reason to ridicule him. However, he gathered from the way she was unable to pull herself together she wouldn't be interested in revenge in the near future. This settled his nerves somewhat. Draco thought, if he were Hermione he would have already managed to find one hundred ways to insult him, however she had not said anything, she had not mentioned the untidy nature of his hair. The bland, boring nature of his cologne - the same he wore to work each and every day.
Did she even notice such things?
Perhaps if you were Hermione Granger you did not have time to notice the small details, she always seemed to be under an incredible amount of stress it really was no wonder she failed to notice such things.
However, he had to admit, she looked the very opposite of stressed this evening. In fact, if anything she only seemed slightly nervous. It was a rarity to even see her in public in anything other than he black robes, to think, she was wearing such a beautiful dress. Surely she would not have picked it herself? It was hard to imagine her any other way than the broken individual he saw daily, it was hard to imagine her as anyone other than the girl lying upon the ground of the church sobbing, her makeup smeared across her face.
How this had aged her, Draco thought, not physically but mentally. Sure, she looked thinner, paler and generally in poorer health, that of course showed. But there was nothing to suggest that she had aged at all since her Hogwarts days, if anything she looked just as young. But it was the way she held herself, the mask of confidence she wore that would fool any other that he could see through. He could see how much this arrangement was already hurting her, the pain of being exposed to a world that had witnessed her public humiliation. Inside, Draco felt anger rising within him, fury almost. He felt ashamed that he had done nothing to stop this from happening to her. Sure, he'd once detested this girl. But no-one deserved the treatment she had received. No-one deserved that sort of humiliation she felt inside. Draco of all people would know.
He wondered what Malfoy Manor looked like this evening, how the banquet hall would be decorated for the ball. The guests already pouring in from every corner of the globe. Astoria of course would be there, she would have been there very early in the day helping with preparations, she had been granted the interviews and photography rights to the event. Perhaps as another form of revenge on his parents part.
Draco had no interest in ever seeing that horrid woman again. For too long he had put up with her ridiculous and childish behaviour. For too long he simply decided to overlook her cheating, preferring to be with her than without her. He felt like such a fool, a fool for the moments he actually believed she loved him, a fool for loving her. He had been willing to do anything to protect her, he would give anything to her. Yet how she had so willingly thrown this in his face. How willingly he had allowed her to!
He could not believe his foolishness. His parents, on the other hand believed that it would be best for him to remain with her, no matter the situation. They of course knew everything that had occurred, and they were still advising them to remain the seemingly happy couple? Draco was fed up with it. He was fed up with the way he had not only been used by Astoria but by his parents. He was simply a tool, a tool used to achieve a union with one of the few pureblood families to which they were not already related.
How dare they suggest that he continue to live a lie?
That of course was the latest Malfoy spat. The Daily Prophet had already detailed it extensively, however none of the reporters knew all the details.
Very few people did.
It had begun one evening last year in May; it was rather cold Draco could remember. He noticed the rain outside and did not feel like eating out and decided to make his way home. When he returned from work late, that of course was nothing out of the ordinary he found Astoria upon the couch sobbing helplessly. That was a rarity. She was home from work – early.
Draco proceeded with caution; perhaps she was in another of her moods, those moods that seemed to almost destroy her at times. Slowly Draco walked across the living room of their large apartment towards her. She was sitting completely in the dark clutching a single strip of parchment to her chest. Draco leant over and switched on one of the large standing lamps. She did not move.
There was something incredibly wrong with her. Draco bent down and took her hands in his own, carefully sliding the parchment from her hands, casting his eyes upon it. It was a slip from St. Mungos. Draco scanned along the list of tests they had performed each recording as negative that was until the very last. Pregnancy. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes moved across the page ever so cautiously to the result. Positive.
The parchment slid from his hands and onto the floor. He sat down upon the couch and gathered his girlfriend in his arms and rocked her gently backwards and forwards until she fell asleep. It was then that he picked her up and placed her within their bed and walked back into the living room running his hands through his hair.
Could the child be his?
Could it be the child of another?
He couldn't bring himself to ask her before. Perhaps, just maybe there was a chance of it being his. Should he marry her, he wondered.
What was he supposed to do?
He pointed his wand at the fireplace, the logs instantly igniting. He wandered across throwing a handful of the Floo Powder within his pocket into the fire. Clearly stating Malfoy Manor before plunging his face into the flames. He received quite a shock to see his parents sitting in front of the fire opposite one another. His Mother had a glass of red wine within her hand, his Father reading the Daily Prophet. They too received a shock to see their only son's head appearing in the flames of their fire.
"Draco?" Narcissa asked quietly.
"Yes, Mother." Draco reply.
"It's late; I hope you are well aware of this." His father called.
"I know, I need help." Draco replied honestly.
"What is it this time?" His father asked. "A better apartment? A car? Heaven forbid -an island?"
"Father this is no time for you sarcasm." Draco replied. "I need your advice."
"What's wrong, darling?" Narcissa asked.
"Astoria is pregnant." Draco admitted.
"Draco!" His Father scolded, his voice becoming loud. "Have you thrown your sense entirely out the window?"
"Father, I assure you, we have been… cautious."
"Not cautious enough it would seem." Lucius replied.
"Mother, please…" Draco pleaded. "What am I to do?"
"We could pull together a wedding as soon as possible." Narcissa replied, Draco noticed she had almost drained the glass in her hand. "Or we could hide the child. You could go on a vacation until the child is born."
"I don't know what to do." Draco admitted running his hands through his long blond hair. "We don't have long."
"I believe that is your fault, Draco." Lucius added.
"Father, you're not helping."
"Lucius, I'll handle this." Narcissa snapped. "Are you sure it's yours?" She asked.
"No, but it could be. That's the thing. It mightn't be, but I'll have to deal with it more than the Father if it's not my own. She'll just make it seem as though it is."
"See Narcissa, we give him everything he asks for. Look where that has gotten him." Lucius added snidely. "He's going to be a Father in several months time whether he likes it or not and then he'll come looking for money, shelter or something else when it all turns upon him."
"Lucius, be quiet." Narcissa said running her hands through her blonde hair. "Do not marry her yet. Until you can be sure the child is your own. Perhaps instead we hide the pregnancy. Perhaps a timely visit to Australia? I hear it's nice there this time of year." Narcissa added. "It's summer; the sun will do you some good. Astoria also. I can arrange accommodation this evening if you are prepared to leave tomorrow or within the next week. Lucius do we still have a house there?" She asked, running through options at a rapid pace.
"I believe so." He replied not glancing up from his newspaper, that would be right, Draco was in a crisis and his father could not care less.
"It's settled then. Draco be ready to leave by tomorrow evening at the latest, I will inform the house keeper, who ever that may be that the house shall be occupied. This is a frightful mess." She admitted. "I wish we had known sooner, however, that is not the case. Please send Astoria to visit tomorrow before you leave, Draco. I miss her company. I will surely miss it whilst you are gone."
"Yes, Mother." Draco replied quietly, for a moment he imagined then losing their tempers.
His Father throwing objects across the room, his mother screaming at him, in a way it would have been better than their eerie silence and calmness. Strange almost unnatural reactions to what he had expected. How at the time he wished he knew the whole story.
He wished he knew that Astoria had told his Mother weeks ago. He wished she had not also told his Father. He wished neither of them had known and that their reactions were natural. He slipped backwards from the fire falling onto the ground in a heap. He did not cry, he had no reason to. However he sat entirely in silence, unable to move. He grabbed the piece of parchment and stared down upon the single word that had changed his life so easily.
Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.
The word continued to roll over within his mind. Echoing. It was the only thing he could hear. It was clear his life would be far different from what he had planned. To think, to think he was preparing to ask Astoria to marry him, he was already looking at rings, preparing to ask her Father whether he would allow such a union. Now what was he supposed to do?
His parents had once again solved his problems for him, they always had. It seemed rather pointless to ask her to marry him; she would take it to mean something else entirely. She was not at all keen on the idea of marriage, and now would be the worst possible time he could imagine to even entertain the thought of asking.
As he threw the last of his clothes into a suitcase and placed them at the door he could not help but imagine the idea of running away. Of sending himself and all his belongings to a far off distant place that had never heard of Draco Malfoy or Astoria Greengrass, a place that was so entirely free that he could be alone. It was almost as though he had free fallen into the unknown, the unpleasant sensation in his stomach nothing more than nerves, rather than fear or discontentment.
The darkness had closed in upon his life. He was a careful person, things like this; they shouldn't happen to careful people. He could not help but feel he was not ready for a child. He was not ready to call himself a father or a husband for that matter. As much as he loved Astoria he could not come to grips with being a husband. Perhaps that is the reason he was apprehensive about presenting her with a ring.
The prospect of living with her for the rest of his life had caused him to reconsider this. He knew she was not the most faithful partner, hell; she was most likely one of the least faithful partner's he could have ended up with. Yet at the same time, for all her faults he loved her. She knew more about him than he cared to think about. He could not simply walk away from that. Yet in the end he had been forced to do so. Unable to bear to look at the person she had become any longer or the child they called their own.
He wondered how it was Hermione could so easily hide the pain she had been caused. He struggled to hide the pain he had been caused half as well. The pain that had led to his only means of covering it, excessive drinking. He admitted he had a problem, however he was trying to clean himself up, she was not worth the pain he had been causing himself. In fact, he believed Astoria to be worth very little in his opinion; in fact he had even cancelled his subscription to the Daily Prophet just to make a point of it.
However that never stopped news of the latest Astoria related gossip to reach his ears, the world was still under the impression that they were still very much an item that ended tonight. With the last of the items she kept in the apartment they shared being sent to her new apartment without a single word shared. They had not exactly spoken in some time.
In fact the child was the only thing they had spoken about and in the end it was simply Astoria's last attempts at getting him to remain with her. Her feeble, half-hearted attempts. Her parents too, were keen to see the Greengrass and the Malfoy lines joined and this was the only chance they had in this generation. Perhaps the only chance they may have of seeing the lines joined. Draco was the least keen for this to occur, and he would not be bullied by his parents as he had bullied the poor woman beside him into a marriage he was not entirely committed to.
"Do you speak to your parents often?" He asked, attempting to make some form of conversation with Hermione to pull himself from his reverie.
"I speak with my Mother daily however, my Father is ill and spends a large amount of time within the hospital, I visit him quite a lot, but he is in no fit state to reply to anything I say to him." She replied quietly.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." He replied. "Will he recover?"
"Perhaps, there's a small chance according to the doctors. Unfortunately, there isn't even a spell that can cure cancer." Her voice was small as she spoke, almost as though this was just another of the horrid things that was happening to her, things she of all people did not deserve.
"I hope he recovers." He whispered. "I'm truly sorry to hear he is unwell, I was not aware of it."
"Luckily, the Daily Prophet doesn't take much interest in me anymore. I'm grateful, I'd rather them not know about his illness, it's difficult on my Mother and I couldn't bear it if were there for world to see." She paused. "I guess you would understand what I mean in a sense. Although… Astoria is the one who seems to be the major correspondent for the… shall we say… gossip columns."
"I'm not with her anymore." He replied.
"I'm sorry?" She replied questioningly. "Last I heard you were engaged."
"That was never the case." He replied staring out the window. "She always liked lying, Astoria."
"Oh, I'm sorry I said anything." She replied, clearly embarrassed by her words he cheeks flushing a bright red.
"Oh, don't worry about it. We only officially ended earlier today. It's not exactly the best day for a blind date I can assure you. However, I couldn't reject a woman so forceful, Ginny is rather frighting in her current state almost as bad as…" He whispered, his voice trailing off.
"Almost as bad who?" She asked.
"My cousin, when she was pregnant last year." He lied easily. "She was rather frightful to be entirely honest."
"I can imagine anyone being so." She replied. "Ginny is rather forceful these days." She whispered holding onto her dress.
"I must say that is a beautiful dress you have on this evening. One that in itself merits an invite to the Malfoy Ball. Unfortunately I don't have an invite this year." He added. "I would have loved to have taken you."
"Oh, don't be silly. This dress is nothing, it's not even my own. I feel rather out of place in it actually. It's much too low cut…"
"It looks perfect. Almost as perfect as your wedding dress." He added.
"Please don't bring that up." She replied. "That was the worst day of my life I hate thinking of what he did, and how little it's affected him in comparison to how badly it's destroyed my life."
"It hasn't destroyed you life. He destroyed his own. He let you go."
"What do you mean by that?" She asked, half thinking he was attempting half-heartedly to insult her.
However, she never found out exactly what he meant by this. The car glided to a smooth halt upon the sidewalk of the large building before them. It was one of the many privately owned function rooms within the city; however this one had a slight difference to the others in this area. This one was owned entirely by wizarding families, and only wizarding families even stood a chance of hiring out the place. Not that any Muggle would have wanted to, from what Draco had heard it was bewitched to appear to be a run down, dilapidated building to any Muggle who passed by, not that it stopped the occasional teenager from wandering in he suspected.
There was no denying that the building had a certain grandeur about it. An air of sophistication and there was something in that air, Draco suspected that it may have been magic, yet he was uncertain. There was something familiar about this place, perhaps he had been here before, yet he could not remember it from any recent events.
Hermione carefully, with Draco's aid climbed from within the vehicle and stepped out onto the street, looking even more splendid than she had before, if that was even possible. Draco found it particularly difficult to imagine this woman as the very same woman who he had bullied almost needlessly through school with any excuse he could find.
She took a nervous glance at the building, almost as though she too recognised it but did not wish to say anything. She quickly set to work tidying her dress from the car trip, carefully smoothing out any creases that had formed within the delicate fabric. Once again, she looked up at the building, the ghosts of past memories swimming within her eyes, so visible and heart wrenchingly clear that Draco could barely stop himself from asking what ever was the matter with her. She simply turned to him and smiled politely taking his arm in her own as they entered into the building, suddenly around them the world had sprung to life.
There were simply people everywhere, each and every single one of them was dressed within neat formal clothing, Draco recognised many from both school and the Ministry. However, it was clear that Hermione was well acquainted with everyone in the room judging by the number of people that stopped them simply to have a few brief words with her before the next person did the same. It seemed that Miss Hermione Granger had become even better connected than the infamous Malfoy's who were notorious for their excellent connections and large fortune.
Draco wondered how many would be in attendance of the ball, there seemed to be many of the regular invitees within this splendidly decorated hall he could not imagine a large turn out for the annual Malfoy Ball. He smiled, that would show them all. He could not help but think these things as they made their way around the room, being stopped every few minutes by yet another person, interested only in speaking with Hermione.
Draco could not help but think it was obvious that she needed to get out more. Particularly as many spoke of not having seen her since, well, since her disastrous wedding. However, more were interested in her sudden change from her usual dreary black robes to the plunging neckline of emerald beauty she sported this evening. In fact, many people had to take more than one glance to be sure that it was her. Perhaps it was the confidence she held herself with, that confidence Draco had yet been unable to find in light of his recent circumstances.
He found himself in admiration of this girl, how she seemed to be able to pretend at least that the weight of the world was not upon her shoulders, and in particular had so far managed to ignore the fact that the man who had almost become her husband was in the far corner snogging the girlfriend of his schooling years.
Draco accepted one of the many glasses of champagne making its way around the room, grabbing another for Hermione once she had finished speaking with whoever it was she was speaking with. He did not seem as interesting as she pretended he was, but he stood there silently nodding occasionally, simply to feign interest.
When the older gentlemen and his partner finally moved away Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, quickly consuming the glass of champagne Draco handed her. He eyed her curiously, she did not come across quite as he imagined, yet it may have been the stress of the whole situation which had her sculling glasses of expensive wine simply to calm her nerves. Draco did not feel as anxious anymore, in fact, he had even less reason to be so now that they were actually at the party.
"I take it you pretend to find him interesting?" Draco asked.
"I suppose that is partially correct. However, he is on the Wizenagamot and he is the one who requests a seat for me each year, I suspect he thinks that one year I shall accept."
"Will you accept?"
"Most likely not. Although it's an honour to even be asked to join I don't think I'm cut out for such duties, I'd must rather simply get on with my job and start a family. Perhaps in later life I might feel the calling of such a position more strongly." She replied taking another glass with a polite smile from a passing waiter.
"I couldn't believe you rejected the request in the first place." Draco admitted. "It seemed to be right up your alley, Granger."
"What is exactly 'up my alley' according to Draco Malfoy?" She asked politely taking a small polite sip from the glass.
"I'd say, French wine, gardening, poetry and utterly enthralling conversation with other members of the wizenagamot simply from observation." He said.
"Is that so?" She asked. "Well, you're wrong."
"How so?" He asked.
"My garden is dead, French wine is too expensive, poetry is simply depressing and this so called 'utterly enthralling conversation with other members of the the wizenagamot' you speak of is simply not as enthralling as you'd like to think. Plus, I much prefer the bittersweet burning sensation a Firewhiskey has on offer."
"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" Draco replied astonished. "I don't believe I've ever had a woman admit being partial to Firewhiskey in my presence."
"I'm not as interesting as you'd think." She replied, placing her now empty glass upon a table. "In fact, I spend more time at the office than I do at home, that cannot be healthy."
"Who doesn't do that?" He replied. "It's almost impossible to keep up with such a large work load, and there is some form of court nearly every day to deal with, I rarely make it home before nine most nights."
"I rarely get to work before nine… It seems to be the hour to leave, I'd much rather arrive after the rush." She replied.
"What does your Head of Department have to say about that?"
"Draco," She replied. "I am the Head of the Department. I make my own hours, however I am contactable every hour of the day, it is not as bad as it would seem."
"I've noticed you prefer to work at night rather than in the day." He noted before asking a waiter to get them two Firewhiskeys. "You shouldn't have to hide away from the world; no-one should make you feel like that."
"You did." She admitted. "At Hogwarts, all those horrible things you said to me, they didn't make me feel as though I was the most wanted person around."
"I know…" He admitted. "I apologise for that too. I was young, foolish and ignorant. I understand how crippling such behaviour can be now."
"I doubt you do." She admitted. "You're Draco Malfoy, you've never had anyone tell you that you don't have a right to perform magic simply because your parents are Muggles. I don't believe you ever had to face the prospect of not being able to go to Hogwarts in your Seventh Year simply because of your blood status. Don't pretend, even for a minute that you even understand how rejection works Draco. You have not experienced public humiliation as I have."
Draco was dumfounded. She was so direct and blunt it was difficult to believe this woman was even capable of insulting another when she seemed so fragile. Yet at the same time her words hit so close to home he could scarcely even imagine where exactly it was that they had come from!
"I may be Draco Malfoy," He admitted. "but I too know exactly how it feels to be humiliated. I'm human, Granger and don't even for a second think that I am the same boy you went to school with. So much has changed me; so much has shaped who I have become that it's ridiculous for you to even suggest that I know nothing of rejection."
"I apologise for my bluntness." She whispered.
"Your Firewhiskeys, Sir." The waiter Draco had spoken to said reappearing at their side. Draco gratefully took the cup before handing several bronze knuts over to the man.
"Here you go, Granger." He said handing her a cup. "All is not lost after all. I forgive you. To new beginnings?" He asked holding out his glass.
"To new beginnings." She affirmed, with the clink of her glass against his before quickly pouring the contents of the glass down her throat.
"Practiced I see." Draco noted.
"I suppose you could say that." She replied grabbing his arm once again and leading him away from the bar. "We must go and speak to Ginny and Harry." She hissed urgently.
Draco glanced back across his shoulder, there he could see a ridiculously dress Lavender Brown and Ronald Weasley heading towards the bar. She wore a horrifically short black dress, tragically short perhaps would have been a more accurate description. Ron however seemed to have no qualms about this, he seemed perfectly content with his dates attire. Draco could see now why she had been so eager to move away from the bar area, in fact, Draco was not in the mood for an awkward evening. It had been awkward enough already, however it was shaping up to be even more exciting than he had first predicted. It appeared that there was a lot more than met the eye about Miss Hermione Granger, that much he was certain of.
The room was warm, warm like the scorching summer heat he and Astoria had experienced in Australia. However, this did not bother him, the heat was almost a way of welcoming him to a life he had not expected for many years to come. It was in fact, just as shocking as Astoria's revelation.
He could remember the house they had shared during the final six months of her pregnancy. That beautiful stone house just outside of Melbourne - one of the countries major cities. It was a perfect location to get anything they needed, whether it be food, clothing or any other general item they were just a stones throw away, well within reason of course. The house had been empty for more than thirty years; however the house keeper was also a witch and although there was not a strong magical presence within the country itself there was definitely a sense of community among the folk in the area.
Unlike London there was not an Australia equivalent of Diagon Alley, there was no St. Mungos here either yet despite this, many witches, wizards and their children called this place home. Draco too could have easily called it home; the beauty of the garden that surrounded their home was enough to make anyone wish to stay.
Astoria had a difficult pregnancy, and Draco had to admit the sudden relocation had done nothing for her health. She suffered horrific morning sickness right up until the fourth month, however there was nothing that could be done. His parents had sent them several calming draughts for her yet nothing seemed able to abate the sudden onset of the morning sickness that crippled her daily.
Even worse still were the sudden violent mood swings she experienced, already formidable enough at the best of times these were unparalleled. One moment she would be crying over the smallest thing, quite often the 'appalling' colour of the décor and the next she would be laughing hysterically at one thing or another. At times, Draco doubted her sanity; however it was only to be expected.
Draco had been out within the garden speaking to Gregory Muldsworth, the house keeper - Margery's husband when he first heard the frightened scream. He had rushed inside to find that Astoria's water had broken a whole two weeks earlier than they had been expecting. He immediately sent word to the nearest Healer, a young woman who had recently moved to Australia herself from Scottland, she had a strong accent and was rather pretty herself.
There was something formidable about the way she captivated a room, something that could cause even Draco, who at the best of times had a horrible habit of speaking his mind whenever the compulsion hit to be silenced. April Pecklewhisp was her name, and as it transpired Draco recognised her from her days at Hogwarts, however she had been two years younger than him, also a Ravenclaw. He'd had very little to do with her during their school years, in fact he suspected, she may have once even been a victim of his cruel schoolboy pranks.
However, now here she stood, helping his girlfriend deliver what could very well have been their first child. However, he was unsure whether it would be or whether it wouldn't, yet this did not subside the anxiousness within his chest. This child would always be his, whether or not it was biologically true.
Draco had been the one there when the child was delivered; he had been the one who stood by her throughout the pregnancy. The child was his, there was no denying it. He relished those brief moments of peace, those moments when Astoria would not be screaming at the very top of her lungs for him to be of more help or clawing her manicured nails into his delicate skin. However, at the same time, those moments of peace were the most frightening. Those moments that seemed to stretch on for hours at a time, moments he spent frozen in time.
Waiting, waiting for his child to be born.
At last, in the wee hours of the morning, 3.17am to be precise Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was brought into this world. April had first cleaned and weighed him with a few simple flicks of her wand, before finally handing him to Astoria whose eyes filled will tears glancing upon their son.
"Isn't he beautiful?" She whispered to Draco, carefully handing the child to him.
Draco took the child into his hands and glanced down into those bright green eyes.
"Yes he is." He whispered. "He shall be a brilliant man someday."
"I think so too." She replied tiredly, collapsing back onto the mass of pillows beneath her.
Draco carefully handed the small child to April, wondering how it was he was able to live when he was so very small. His small hands and small body seemed so fragile it was difficult to imagine those tiny lungs being able to pump enough oxygen into his body to support it. Yet Draco knew, from that moment which he had stared into the eyes of his son, he knew exactly whether or not the child was his.
He would never say anything to Astoria, because he knew, he knew she too knew the identity of the father. Yet he doubted, very much so that she would ever say that it was anyone other than Draco and for the briefest while, everything in their lives had seemed so perfect. They had a son, they had each other, and they had everything they could ever have needed.
Yet things were bound to come crashing down at some point or another, and that they did.
They had arrived back in London one dreary winters day to the apartment they called their own. Leaving Scorpius with Lucius and Narcissa the pair had ventured back out into society, to show that they had simply gone on an extended holiday. Astoria had lost all of her baby weight, and the tan she sported looked as though she had been lying upon a Caribbean beach for the past five months rather than locked within a house in Australia, racked with horrific morning sickness and unpredictable mood swings. The moment Astoria and Draco stepped into Diagon Alley the press were upon them, several reporters who had so graciously been tipped off that Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass may make an appearance in the renowned street awaited them eagerly.
They were not disappointed. To them everything seemed perfect; the couple simply had taken some time off. Who expected anything else of the pair, both heirs to large fortunes; they could do anything they pleased. However, deep down Draco felt a sense of discontentment. This was not the life he had planned for himself or Astoria, it was a life built solely on the foundation of a lie. These people did not even know Scorpius existed.
Astoria was determined to keep it this way also. Draco had protested and protested. They could not hide the child forever. Yet that was the way she intended it to be. She planned, when the time came for Scorpius to attend Hogwarts they would simply say that they had adopted him, unable to have children of their own following a horrific incident in which both his parents were killed. Draco was disgusted and appalled to see what she had become. She dared suggest that they tell people that their son, her own flesh and blood was not theirs?
It was at that moment Draco had come to realise that he no longer loved her the way he had only months ago. That love had changed, it had become nothing more than a relationship of convenience, and it was convenient for him to remain with her for the time being. She however, was simply using him. Or perhaps using would have been better replaced with abusing. For the first time in his entire working career, Draco was home on time to collect Scorpius from his parent's house before bringing him to the apartment the three shared. However now it seemed more empty and lifeless, with Astoria returning to her old life schedule.
Draco had half a mind to return Scorpius to his parents, leaving a note upon the kitchen counter stating that he was leaving and was never returning, and to walk away. Yet he never did. Or perhaps it was that he never could quite bring himself to do it. Either way, it would confirm what he thought of himself to be, a coward.
He was a coward, that much he was certain of. He was either a coward for not telling Astoria what he already knew to be certain; he had practically confirmed it now. Or he was a coward for walking away. Was there no end to this predicament he found himself in?
The strong smell of Firewhiskey brought him back to the present. There was yet another glass being held out to him, this time by none other than Harry Potter. He accepted the glass graciously, thanking Potter and wishing him a happy new year as was custom. Hermione was already rapidly speaking away to Ginny and Harry collectively.
Draco found himself quietly sipping from his glass, feeling quite the third wheel watching the way they all seemed to speak to one another. Almost as though there would never be room for anyone but Ron in a conversation such as this. Draco carefully set his glass aside glancing out the window. The weather looked positively frightful; rain was bucketing down upon the street outside many Muggles seemed to be dashing for the nearest shelter under the cover of their coats, jackets and brief cases. Not of course a very effective idea, they seemed to be getting utterly soaked all the same, Draco wondered why they even bothered trying. Muggles… He thought, smiling to himself at the simplicity of their lives.
There was the quiet hum of music in the background; some had the audacity to dance to the slow rhythmic music. Draco could not imagine something more ridiculous, it was far too early to have drunk enough to dance to such dreary music. It was more the sort of music one mingled to, the type which you could discuss one thing or another with a complete and utter stranger and never really feel ill at ease.
It was the sort of music that encouraged conversation, of course, not that anyone here would really recognise that, you had to have been too far too many balls and social events to even recognise the threat of such music, one moment you would be idly holding a drink, the next you would be telling your life story from woe to go to an absolute stranger, it was preposterous. Such was the atmosphere of this party, he soon found himself sitting at a table opposite Hermione, who was idly drinking a glass of champagne, talking about one thing or another, he could not exactly keep his mind upon the topic at hand.
"Let us not discuss work, for just an evening?" He asked politely when she had finished speaking,
"That would be welcome," She replied, "it seems as though I do nothing but talk of work, work and more work. Although, I suppose I do not really have all that much more to speak of currently, my life is quite dull."
"I hardly imagine the life of one as talented as you to be dull," He replied, "if anything, I'd imagine it to be more interesting than many lives combined."
"What makes you say that?" She asked,
"Surely you receive invitations to all sorts of events, parties and gatherings, have you ever stopped to consider how many more you receive than most?"
"I suppose not, they nearly all go back with a slip saying I'm too busy to attend." She admitted,
"Well, why don't we go out and have some fun?" He asked,
"Fun?" She questioned, "In what way do you mean?"
"We could hit the town, drink in a pub in Ireland, visit Australia for New Year's Day, or be in Times Square to break in the New Year! We could go anywhere or do anything. The night is young and so are we…"
"Young, I am anything but young, I certainly do not feel youthful." She whispered,
"That's because you carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders, you need to loosen up a little. You know live?"
"I do live, quite comfortably at that." She snapped,
"What you and your cat, home alone at night crying yourself to sleep?"
Tears welled up in her brown eyes, "N…No... Not at all!" She hissed, wiping the tears from her eyes,
He knew he'd hit a nerve, he should have known that she would not easily move forward from the tragedies in her life, she would hang upon them, refusing to let go if she could avoid it. She probably still even had some of Ron's possessions within the house, she probably cried whenever she saw them, he knew, she could not possibly be living a comfortable happy life, by no means.
The state in which she appeared at work each day could be used to gauge that, she looked as though she didn't sleep and the fact that she wore clothes that seemed to suggest she was in mourning did not help her case. Just by saying that, he knew he'd done something wrong, she'd come out to forget what she faced each day of her life and yet here he was dredging it all up in public again.
What sort of person was he? That was right, he remembered, an awful one. He'd never been particularly good to Hermione Granger, if anything he was prepared to admit he attempted to make her life as hellish as possible for the longest time, but he never wished a crippling depression like this upon anyone, no-one deserved this, particularly not her.
"I'm sorry," he replied, "I often forget that it's considered socially unacceptable to pass comment on one's innermost thoughts."
"It's okay," she replied, "it's not like I have a life anyway."
He could barely speak, had she just admitted that he'd summed up her lifestyle in a single sentence? She looked as though once again she'd been pushed to breaking point. He wondered how strong she really was, it was clear she was stronger than the normal person, many would have crumbled beneath the weight of so many heartbreaks, yet she was still here, and she was almost as he remembered her from school, only slightly older looking.
He could not help but notice that she'd caught Ron Weasley's eye he glanced over occasionally, it was clear that there was some obvious jealousy in his eyes, yet at the same time there was almost a resentment within them. Draco felt anger well up within him, Weasley didn't deserve to even look at her after what he'd done, he shouldn't be able to look at her without feeling the guilt he should. It took Draco a while to notice he was walking towards them, however it was difficult to do anything to avoid it now, he could only give them some space, he assumed it would already be uncomfortable without adding his presence into the mix.
"Would you like another drink?" He asked pointing to her empty wine glass,
"That would be lovely," she replied, "a Firewhiskey if you could manage it."
"I thought you'd never ask." He replied with a smile before grabbing the glass and heading into the crowd towards the large bar.
"Ronald, what a pleasant surprise." He heard her stammer, assuming that Weasley had already reached her,
He heard Weasley reply in some form of mumble, unfortunately he could not hear it. He'd never really been one for eavesdropping, however he was willing to make an exception here, he'd made it his business by bringing her here. Her happiness had suddenly become his business, as awkward as that was. He never thought he would admit that Hermione Granger's happiness would ever be a priority of his, but he was willing to bet that this feeling would only increase.
He grabbed the glasses off the bar and paid the bartender before walking back to the table, from a distance he noticed her hands grasping the edge of the table, her knuckles pulled so tightly they had gone white. It was clear even to him that she wanted him to leave, his presences was not wanted at all, and she was simply being polite in refraining from telling him to leave, sometimes she was too well mannered for her own good, he'd already noticed that in the short time he'd actually had a proper, non-work related conversation with her.
"Ronald," Draco said politely placing a hand upon Hermione's taking a seat beside her, "fancy meeting you here."
"I could be saying the same about you." Ron hissed back,
"Oh, come now, what's an old school grudge between a few friends, that's in the past! Let us buy you a drink!" Draco replied, trying particularly hard to get on his nerves, he knew he'd hit a weak spot when he watched Ron flinch at the word 'us',
"Us?" Ron asked swallowing,
"Hasn't Hermione told you?" Draco asked nudging her in the side hoping she would get the message to play along with his little game,
"Told me what?" Ron asked, his face going pale,
"Draco and I are dating." She replied,
Ron's eyes widened, "Really?"
"Didn't you know?" Draco asked,
"No, last I heard you were engaged to Astoria Greengrass," Ron admitted, "and that was today…"
"I have never been engaged to that woman, we had a rather unpleasant break up, she prefers to pretend it never happened."
"I see, how long have you been together?" He asked,
"A few weeks?" Hermione asked turning to Draco her grip on the edge of the table loosening slightly beneath his hand,
"Sounds about right."
"How, lovely." Ron replied, this of course, Draco noticed, was not without a forced edge to it,
"It is!" She replied,
"I'm glad you're happy," Ron admitted, however he looked anything but happy, if anything he looked sour, "I'm glad you've moved on. I must be off I'm afraid, Lavender is waiting for me."
"It was nice seeing you again," Hermione whispered, "I'm glad you and Lavender are happy."
"Indeed it was," Draco replied shaking Ron's hand, "happy new year if we don't see you."
"Happy new year…" He mumbled walking off.
Draco turned to Hermione; she didn't look upset, if anything, the large smile that had broken across her face told another story altogether. He had not seen her smile like this in the longest time that evening. She was laughing too, almost as though she'd gained some form of satisfaction from their little lie.
"The look on his face…" she remarked, "was priceless!"
"You'd be surprised; by you admitting your over him to his face will throw him. Everything will change, and chances are, he'll lose grip on what he's doing for a while now. He would never expect you to get over it, he probably expects you to mull over it forever…"
"Really?"
"I prosecute people for a living, Hermione. I know the classic signs of guilt and I also know my fair share about human behaviour."
"It's hard to think of you doing the job you do and somehow remaining sane, the people you must have to deal with…"
"I think of it as a service I'm performing to society, my debt which needs to be repaid for the crimes I've committed."
"That's all in the past; we do not speak of it."
"I know, but it's a more personal matter I suppose one would call it. I cannot forgive myself until everyone else can forgive me."
"There will always be people who hold us accountable for the actions of our past, those actions we cannot be forgiven for unless we can make amends, but those actions cannot be made amends for. Why should we go on trying to be forgiven for something we've done, when we can never satisfy those we have wronged? It seems pointless."
"I cannot make amends for the lives I have taken; I may only go on attempting uselessly to make amends for the crimes I have committed. I don't fancy myself the fool who simply believes all is forgiven by a few simple actions."
Hermione paused momentarily before she spoke, her lips pursed.
"I believe that forgiveness shall come with those who forget the true nature of the crimes we've committed."
Draco felt an unnerving wave of gratefulness wash over him as her words sunk in. There was something so comforting about her and her words were as though she spoke with wisdom well beyond her years. It was with great pain that she had said these words; they were strained and there were tears in her eyes.
"What crime has the great Hermione Granger committed that is beyond forgiveness?"
"I loved a fool." She replied finishing her drink.
"Surely that is not a crime?" Draco asked.
"It's not, but the damage done to relationships as a result of what happened is something I live with every day. Molly refuses to speak to Ronald, that is until he apologises for what he did. I'm the cause of that, and I don't forgiveness is possible for such a thing. Just like I can't be forgiven for the lives I took in the Battle of Hogwarts."
"You took lives that needed to be taken, not the innocent. There's a difference."
"Is there?" She asked. "A life is a life, no matter whether good or evil."
"You of all people believe that?"
"How can I not?" She asked. "I have no reason to believe otherwise."
"You have nothing to fear, if anything I'm the one who should be scared."
"Why?" She asked.
"I killed people for sport, surely that counts against me."
"It doesn't take a genius to see that you're trying to make amends for your past, which counts more than actually making amends itself. You're trying to achieve the near impossible, not everyone will forgive and forget. I've forgiven, I see you every day struggling to forgive yourself more than anyone. That in itself is enough for me."
"Who says I've forgiven myself yet?"
"No-one. You and you alone decide when you're ready to forgive yourself and when you do, tell me, because I sure as hell won't have reached that stage yet."
"I think you've reached it, you just won't let yourself cross that bridge."
"I see the bridge," She whispered. "I'll never cross it."
There was something in the way she spoke, as though her words carried a double meaning. It was more than likely; she'd seen so much in her short time, so much people should never even have to see. There was a quiet pain to the way she spoke as though suffering silently had been her tactic for longer than she could remember and now that had slipped through her fingers.
She did look as though she'd become rattled, that calm collected coolness about her vanished alongside the pride she had held herself with only minutes ago. She had been defeated and she knew it, and the pain in her eyes told Draco that she needed it's stability to keep going. How had her admittance of this changed her so?
Were just a few simple words really all it took to bring down the infamous Hermione Granger?
It reminded him of that moment he had first glanced into Scorpius's bright green eyes, and glanced upon those strangely unfamiliar features he knew what those eyes confirmed to him, one thing and one thing only. These were the moments which stopped time, but somehow the world still moved and existed around them.
In the grand scheme of things they did not seem to matter to more than a few people, but inevitably they held the key to so much more, that moment had changed everything, he'd known, from that very moment he would not stay with Scorpius or Astoria, he'd known he'd leave them, cowardly as he knew it to be in his own mind, he knew he could not stay.
The child was not his, as much as he lied to himself; he knew that he could not convince himself of this. That moment, looking into those unfamiliar murky green eyes he'd known that the child could not possibly have been his, his entire family had had blue or silver eyes as far back as he knew, and Astoria, well, her brown eyes were common to her family.
It was clear, that he could not have produced such a child, he'd seen those eyes before, and from that moment his suspicions were confirmed – The child was not his own.
And so, the clock struck eight.
