Chapter 3- Really Seeing for the First Time
Draco awoke unwillingly, trying to cling to dreams of a warm, soft woman with masses of wild brown hair. He awoke, instead, to the now familiar soft cries through the open door in the side of his room. Draco was not as used to hearing the soft mutterings of Hermione Granger accompanying the young child's cries.
Draco walked to the door and smiled at the clearly frustrated young mother trying to bottle feed her protesting infant.
Hermione turned to Draco when he entered. She looked a bit desperate. "If she'll take the bottle for you, why won't she for me? She's never refused- to breastfeeding before. Does my baby hate me now?" The young woman asked, her increasing frustration seemingly overruling embarrassment, at least at the time.
"May I?" Draco asked, reaching out for the small child and the bottle. Hermione stared at him helplessly as she handed over her child and watched as Rose settled down and began to drink.
"Why?" Hermione asked, emotion clear on her pretty face.
Draco could not stop himself from smiling, wider than his customary smirk, "I believe she likes skin contact and the feel of a heart beat," Draco said. The child was settled against his bare torso and drinking heartily from the bottle that an elf must have prepared. "You can't expect a newborn to fully appreciate your dressing gown, however lovely it might be."
Draco allowed his eyes to openly scan her figure as he rubbed Rose's tiny back gently. His eyes lingered over Hermione's bust line, which had undoubtedly been smaller when the gown was originally purchased. The gown was pretty, if a bit childish or old fashioned in the cut, covering far too much skin for Draco's liking. It had sleeves down to her wrist and a hemline down to her knees. She even wore sleeping pants underneath. However, at least a bra must have been deemed unneeded, and she didn't wear a robe over the thin gown as he would have thought that Hermione Granger would have. He allowed himself to enjoy the rather domestically pleasing view.
Draco returned his eyes to hers to see Hermione Granger performing a similar scan. Her eyes lingered on the Dark Mark still faintly visible on his arm, causing Draco to wince internally. Nothing could be done about that, as far as Draco could tell. He noticed her eyes lingering perhaps even longer though on his shirtless chest that her daughter still rested against, drinking happily.
Draco decided to push his luck further. "I would certainly not protest if you would like to test this theory now," Draco smiled into Hermione's eyes before looking back down at the baby, removing the bottle from her tiny lips and placing a cloth on his bare shoulder that he grabbed from the table next to her crib. He patted Rose gently until she burped and spit in the way babies do. Draco hadn't thought possible for everything a baby did to be completely adorable until little Rose Granger.
He turned back to Hermione after a moment of letting her ponder his words. He wouldn't push her any harder. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to tease her on the subject at all. And surely it had just been a tease. He looked up to see her still and standing up very straight, reminiscent of Draco's earliest memory of Hermione Granger. She had little girl trying to help a hopeless case boy, Longbottom, find a toad, not knowing anything about social order in the wizarding world. She had held herself in such a proud way that he had thought she must be a pureblood, because eleven-year-old Draco couldn't understand how anyone else could stand up so straight, so proud of herself. Draco suddenly hoped that he hadn't been the cause of future slumping of shoulders. The improved posture doing further wonders to her current bust line, discernible outlines of large, hard nipples right there for Draco to see. Her chin held up looked defiant, though her eyes seemed so vulnerable. He would leave if she asked him to.
"I'm not some leggy blond twig," Hermione said quietly.
Draco looked across at the woman in front of him trying to not show any real emotion. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling anyway, but he was a bit confused by her statement. What did she see? "I never really liked blond women," Draco countered. "It's such a fake looking color, isn't it?" Draco said, somewhat ironically for the natural blond to say. "Too much like my mother's perhaps. Hers is fake, you know. It's from spells and foul smelling potions that Uncle Severus would bring over."
"Uncle Severus?" Hermione asked, clearly curiosity having won out over nerves.
"When we weren't in school, yes, he was Uncle Severus. Not a blood relative of course. He was my godfather though, and I had known him for all of my life," Draco spoke softly, his mind tracing back to old memories, and his vision roaming across the room without any focus. Draco was brought back to reality by the sounds of the shifting of fabric. He looked up to see Hermione biting her lip adorably before the fabric covered her head and was swiftly flung to the floor.
Draco snapped his eyes up to hers, shocked that she would actually take off the gown anywhere near his presence. He could not help but let his eyes wander over her bare form- uncovered from above the waist at least. She still wore damned baggy long sleeping pants. Draco was concentrating a bit higher. Her breasts looked full and heavy, weighed down by mother's milk. Large, erect, dark pink nipples stood out farther than seemed possible. He could see light pink stretch marks around her breasts, evidence that her figure had recently benefited considerably from her pregnancy and nursing motherhood. Her breasts had always been on the smaller side when they were in school, though Draco didn't know how his mind had even registered such a thing about one of his school rivals.
Her stomach, already drastically smaller than it had been in the hospital just days ago, had the telling loose skin hanging from a lightly rounded belly. If honest, he might have assumed she was in the third or fourth month of pregnancy judging by the size of the small roundness. Draco tried unsuccessfully to push aside the sudden wish that he had seen her like this with her belly swollen with late pregnancy. Draco had only focused on the desire for a child before, not the incredible beauty of a pregnant mother. Not that he was likely to have ever thought of his former wife in that way no matter what she looked like. More vibrant stretch marks stood out here against Hermione's pale stomach, as well as a mark could be seen where the healers had to actually cut her open to remove Rose. Weasley was unquestionably an idiot, but Draco wasn't one to complain.
"Can you not- stare?" Hermione asked in a tone that seemed to be attempting bossiness but mixed with audible vulnerability. "I know it's not pretty..." she spoke softly.
Draco's eyes had wandered back to her full breasts. "Granger," Draco spoke, hating the almost creak in his voice, not daring or even wanting to meet her eyes. He wasn't sure if he could have torn them away if he tried. "If you think you have anything to be ashamed of, then I don't think we're looking at the same body."
"Thank you," came the voice from a foot above where Draco's gaze rested. While staring, Draco had shifted a step or two to the left so that that from below the waist he was behind the small changing table, hiding the otherwise very evident and rapidly hardening erection that he should probably be feeling guilty about. He was possibly perverted in some way, to be ogling the young mother that was strangely under his care. He would later blame tiredness, but he was quite content to stare as the uncomfortable witch began nursing. He knew he must be horribly depraved for watching with such intent, knowingly allowing at least vaguely sexual thoughts, but it all made a beautiful picture. His heart ached slightly more even than his now fully expanded and throbbing cock. He did ease his guilt slightly with a glance and the young witch's face. She was flushed a pretty shade of pink that trailed down her neck, but her chin was slightly raised, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. She liked the attention, he thought. He resumed staring openly for another moment before he closed his slightly open mouth and pried his eyes away when he imagined how he must look. He could barely believe that his mouth had actually dropped open while watching, perhaps from the moment that she had dropped her gown onto the floor.
Draco immediately wished he had stayed focused on her breasts instead of casually glancing to the side at her arm. All sexual thoughts vanished from his mind. "I'm so sorry," Draco spoke, gaze not reaching her eyes.
Hermione looked confused, and Draco saw the faint blush again on her face when he glanced up. "I'm fine, Draco, just a little embarrassed, but you've been very-"
"For taking you here, I'm so sorry. I should have thought. We could go to a house in France instead," Draco offered quickly. "We should have. I should have thought. I'm sorry," Draco struggled. He had never apologized so often or so earnestly in his entire life. He grasped the table in front of him tightly, steadying himself.
"What are you talking about, Draco? I'm fine here. It's very- nice of you to have us," Hermione assured him.
Draco interrupted, his mind reeling, "Those marks- on your arm- you got them here, didn't you? From Aun- from that bitch, Bellatrix? I'm sorry, but I guess I just tried so hard to forget," Draco said as Hermione stood in silence. He stepped closer, absently appreciative that his lower half had received the message that he was now far more concerned with matters other than sexual appeal.
Draco tentatively put his arms out to touch the young woman and child. "Let me take you to France. I'll destroy this whole damn house if you want. I can't believe I can even stand it. HE stayed here after all. I just don't think about it, if I can help it. I try to forget the whole thing, those two years of my life, but I should have thought," Draco said, now leaning into her beautiful wavy mane. She had mastered some technique to turn it into manageable curls during the day, when she bothered with it, but it was currently a glorious mess. Draco tried to think of anything except the fading marks that read "mudblood" on Hermione's arm.
"I'm fine here, Draco," Hermione said in a surprisingly strong voice. Draco buried his head further into Hermione's mane, glad and surprised that she wasn't yet pushing him away. She couldn't possibly be fine. He certainly wasn't. "Though I wouldn't mind visiting France. I've been a few times, and I rather like France, but I'm fine here, really. I- guess there are a few rooms that I wouldn't want to spend a lot of time in, but that's silly, really, and I'm fine," she insisted.
Draco stood, arms curled around Hermione and Rose, knowing he didn't deserve this, whatever this was, or anything like it. "She needs to be burped before she falls asleep," Draco reminded her, trying to stop tears from entering his eyes. He was glad that no one from Slytherin could see him. He somehow still knew that the perfect little Gryffindor witch wouldn't hold tears against him, even though she had every reason to hate him.
"You're very good with children," Hermione commented lightly.
"Aunt Andromeda lets me help with Teddy sometimes. I thought of it as penance at first, before growing fond of the little guy," Draco said.
Hermione took the cloth Draco offered from his shoulder and patted Rose gently. She addressed again what they were both still thinking about, "I've never tried to make the scars go away. They were long since healed before I saw a proper healer, being still on the run after all that, and there were so many other, more important, things going on. Madame Pomfrey and other healers have recommended some potions and creams, but I've never bothered. Ron was always telling me to get it fixed. But- I don't know," she hesitated before speaking again, "It reminds me that I made it through, I guess. That I didn't betray my friends even when it was difficult. I'd never faced a test like that before, and I wasn't at all sure how I would do, even when it was happening. Maybe that's silly. I know it's- disfiguring. Ron didn't like to look at it, I think. And it's not like I even did very much to be proud of. Harry did a lot more and-"
"No. You're so strong- Hermione," Draco interrupted her. "I was always weak."
"You didn't tell on us either," Hermione insisted. "I know you must have recognized Harry. Everything would have been so much worse if- Voldemort- were there too."
Draco tried not to wince to much at the Dark L- at You-Know-Who's name. It was the least that he could do. He shook his head resolutely. "That house elf- the one that saved you all- I guess you must know, but his name was Dobby, and I probably wasn't very nice to him as a child. He worked for my family. I mean- I didn't tell him to hurt himself, but I knew that he did. He hurt himself often for every little thing, and my father was upset often in those years and encouraged it sometimes. But Dobby did more just to himself. I did try to make him stop a several times, but I just gave up. I mean, he was an odd one, not that it makes it any better. I should have done more. And he didn't make it, in the end, did he?" Draco asked, tears finally falling now, thinking of the little house elf.
"He was a brave friend of ours," Hermione said solemnly. "But yes, he was a bit odd."
"I can't look at any of them now, the elves," Draco admitted. "I know they still cook and clean. They even leave bottles here in the nursery just before I need them, but I just try to avoid them entirely. You can talk to them and do whatever you want, though I don't think they'd like to be sent away. I would if I thought it would make them happier, and I will ask you not to upset them. They seem to like Rose though. But if they wanted to go… I don't- even care about this place being clean or being anything. And I could make my own food. Can't be any different than potions, except nothing explodes usually if you mess up, right?" Draco rambled on, trying to lighten his own mood, or at least think less.
Hermione nodded. "Can you hold her?" Hermione asked, handing over Rose, who was evidently full by now and looking very relaxed and significantly less fussy.
Without even meaning to, Draco smiled a small smile as he looked down at the little girl.
"I'm not afraid of the Department of Mysteries, and I was hurt there," Hermione said, in a voice that was trying very hard to sound light-hearted. Hermione was not one to be distracted from a conversation for long, and she had a way of skipping quickly from one conversation back to a previous one with her quick thoughts. Draco had become fairly skilled at following her in their relatively brief time together. "I might like to work there actually, or in magical law. I haven't yet decided. Saint Mungo's couldn't even make that scar go away. I asked, years ago," Hermione said as she slowly bent down to pick up her gown. Draco felt that the best thing to do was divert his eyes, though that compulsion had been nowhere to be seen earlier.
"What scar?" Draco asked, trying to keep his eyes now locked on hers.
Hermione clutched her gown in her hands as her face assumed an annoyed expression that reminded him strongly again of their school days. "As if you hadn't just been staring at it," she nearly hissed before pursing her lips together and closing her eyes.
Draco raised an eyebrow, sure that he had done no such thing.
"Right here," Hermione pointed just above her breasts, sounding a bit exasperated. Draco looked and for the first time noticed the slight purpled discoloration. It looked like a raised, structured rope-like bruise, which Draco probably should have noticed before. He noticed absently that it focused above her heart and a few stray tendrils ghosted onto her full left breast. Draco could not resist letting his eyes drift once more over the perfect globes.
Draco closed his eyes briefly, attempting to convince his lower regions to cooperate. "I'm a man, Granger. I can assure you that I wasn't staring at your little scar," he said, hoping that he wasn't visibly blushing. Malfoys didn't blush. It was quite unfortunate when they did, with his inherited pale features.
"Oh," Hermione said softly. She put back on her gown more slowly than Draco would have expected before reaching for her daughter again. In his distress, Draco had actually stopped noticing her beautiful figure, but those moments were over once he was assured that Hermione was relatively okay. He really had issues if he could forget about that body, even for a moment.
"And I might talk to the house elves tomorrow if you really don't mind, Draco, but we're all fine here. Really. I don't even know how to thank you for all of this," she said as she leaned over and put her daughter back in the crib. It was a sturdy white thing, the same one Draco had used as a child, thought he hadn't mentioned that detail. "Isn't she cute?" Hermione whispered. "I hope her years at Hogwarts are easier than ours," she said, looking up at Draco with a smile, no hint of malice. As if he hadn't been one of the people making her Hogwarts years more difficult.
"They will be," Draco said firmly. He would not think about anything ever happening to this little girl. He knew it was an irrational protectiveness, but he simply wouldn't allow anything bad happen to her, if he could do anything to prevent it. He had already sworn that to himself after just a few nights of holding the little girl as she slept. Sometimes Draco wouldn't even put her back in her crib and would just hold her for hours as she slept.
Hermione nodded. "We should- probably let her sleep. I'd bet she won't be out for long," she smiled, now staring at Draco's door before glancing at the door she would take back into the hallway.
"Three hours if we are lucky," Draco admitted. It was usually closer to two, though Rose had been kept awake longer than usual in this exchange. Perhaps the little girl would sleep a bit longer this time.
Draco found thin arms wrapped tightly around his chest and meeting behind his back. He was instantly reminded again of the beautiful woman under the thin gown. "Thank you," she murmured into his still exposed shoulder. "I wouldn't have made it through this without my sleep. I'm still not sure if I can do it yet," she admitted.
"Let me handle the next one," Draco stated, hands unconsciously running up and down her back and nose nuzzled again into her slightly wiry hair. Such things didn't feel as strange in the middle of the night after putting a baby to sleep.
"Is that okay?" Hermione asked, looking up at him but not pulling away. "Does that not make me a bad mother?" she questioned, still in a whisper.
Draco chucked softly, barely believing that this woman was still somehow in his arms. Who would have ever thought that he would want Hermione Granger to be in his arms? Did he want that? What was wrong with him? Was he hugging Granger? Draco couldn't even summon the enthusiasm to try to fool himself into disgust. Draco wasn't sure if anything had ever felt better than her arms gently held around him.
"Not at all. Now go to sleep," he finally answered, impulsively kissing the young woman's forehead before gently turning Hermione around and directing her towards the door that led into the hall. "You know where to find me if you need me," Draco whispered. "My door is always open for you." Please, don't let that sound creepy, he thought.
Hermione turned her head backwards, but stopped before turning all the way to him again. She nodded and walked, slightly falteringly, out the door.
Draco peeked over into the crib again before returning to his own bed. He placed a few charms to ensure that he would hear the baby's cries but Hermione wouldn't. Life was certainly a strange thing, but still, somehow, Draco didn't feel like complaining.
A/N: I am so unbelievably nervous about this chapter. Please review. Please. I love the image of Hermione dissatisfied with her appearance and Draco finding her beautiful. Even "bookworms" like Hermione, and like myself, care about their appearance and perception, even if we try to pretend that we don't care what anyone thinks.