Chapter VII:
AN: Final chapter! Thanks for reading this short story, if you want something festive, keep an eye out for my one-shot series coming out next month :)
When the guards hauled her to her feet, Tracey knew the jig was up. Her cellmates watched her go, doubtless remembering her promise that they weren't rotting in vain, she was going to expose everything that went down in this place. She winked to let them know she hadn't been lying. The guards pushed her on, and on, then she was in an empty room. They locked her in, but she wasn't alone for long before a hologram was projected across from her. She glanced behind her, smirking as she figured out the combination of magic and muggle technology, then back to her visitor. An Auror perhaps. She didn't recognise her. "What in Rowena's name did you hope to achieve by infiltrating Azkaban? I don't think anyone in the history of the Wizarding World has purposefully snuck into the harshest prison in our world!"
"Isn't that reason enough?" Chuckled Tracey. "To be a pioneer?"
"You're not going to give me a serious answer are you?" She shook her head. "Fine. I have more pressing matters to deal with than some psycho." With that she was left alone in the room. Tracey stared at the wall for a few minutes, expecting someone else to show up, but it wasn't until she'd set her lip and zoned out that another person did, and a surprise at that.
"Hermione... didn't expect they'd get you in so quickly!"
The brunette stared at her, her face blank. "I had to know why in Godric's name you decided to body swap with my husband."
Tracey stared at her school friend. "Remember, we used to be so close. But we didn't even have to hide, really, when we met up in the Leaky Cauldron or the library. You were the Brightest Witch of Our Age. I was just an inconsequential Slytherin, not even one of your foes. I don't believe Weasley even knew who I was when I visited his cell." Hermione didn't say anything, so she continued. "So even though I'd practised so diligently for the interview and worked so hard for my qualifications, of course they turned me over for you without even listening to my answers properly." Now Hermione opened her mouth, confused, but Tracey just spoke over her, determined to finish her story. "You stole my dream job just because you were Potter's best friend in the war, and then you threw it away for a leadership role, leaving me to report on all your successes."
"First of all," the hologram stepped forward, but it was rather unthreatening knowing that she wasn't even in the room. "I worked hard all my school career despite incessant bullying and was top of our year because of it. I have never had anything handed to me. Secondly I did care about that job, but I'd achieved what I wanted to and I needed to earn more to support my growing family; so yes I took the better paying one." She hadn't been scared before, but she had to admit; she hadn't anticipated the hologram being this realistic up close. She almost felt as if the Gryffindor was about to draw her wand and attack. "Travelling the world, experiencing all that culture and enrichment, I'm shocked you still have space for hate in your heart Tracey, and I can't believe you'd throw it all away for some piece just to get to see me drowning in the rubbish."
The Slytherin laughed, doing a little three fingered wave. "Clearly you weren't paying attention then."
With a disappointed little sigh, as if she'd hoped it had all been a misunderstanding, the hologram faded away, and Tracey smirked as she sent what she'd learnt off for publishing.
Finding an owl snoozing on her window, Hermione apologised for the wait with some treats, before taking the note, glad the creature hadn't bitten her for making it sit there so long and probably get a cramp. First of all the parchment told her not to panic, Hugo was with him, which made her not exactly panic but certainly berate herself. There was a lot going on, but how could she forget about her son? Telling a reluctant Rose they had to head back out again, she finished reading the letter.
I know you're still annoyed at me, and I doubt you'll want to believe this, but it is imperative that you do. Tracey isn't who you think she is. I know this sounds ridiculous, and Hugo isn't exactly explaining how, but I believe him when he says she's Ron. Probably polyjuice potion. You and Rose need to get away from him right now. You can come here, no strings attached, I just want you- both- to be safe.
Draco.
She smiled slightly, folding over the paper and tucking it into her back pocket before they left for the manor.
When Draco saw Hermione he hadn't predicted how much it would hurt. Everything in him ached to kiss her, even more so now that he knew how wonderful it could be from experience. When she looked at him, it was surprisingly with a small smile, rather than the anger that had clouded her gaze the last time they'd been in the same room. She thanked him for looking after Hugo verbally; then with a kiss on the cheek. When he asked what that was for, although making sure she knew he wasn't ungrateful (!), she replied that Rose had told her the truth outside and was now apologising to Scorpius for letting him take the blame. "This is my apology to you," she said, "although I have to thank you for the offer to let us stay, but with Ron being taken straight to Azkaban, hopefully without any pit stop this time, I think it's best if I don't take you up on it." He understood that, the kids might say they were upset about not being able to stay together, but it was best for their welfare at the moment, and for that of their parents' blooming relationship. "I'll see you soon," Hermione promised.
"I'll hold you to that."
When they got home the kids went straight to bed, despite it being 7am. Hermione didn't bother telling them it would throw off their ultradian rhythm, in fact she was ready to do the same, but first she wanted some 'light' reading of the newspaper to get her drowsy. Instead, the front cover only made her hyper-alert. Because on it. Were two pictures. The first perfectly captured the moment she threw her arms around Draco in that Ministry kiss. The second showed a mournful Ron clutching the board with numbers across it in his mugshot. 'Who's the villain; who's the victim?' Read the title in bold print. She was too angry and frustrated to read it properly, but words leapt out at her. Tracey hadn't just done this to let Ron get to her, and inadvertently cause her pain, she had a detailed expose on the awful treatment her husband was about to receive in Azkaban, juxtaposed with the story of a traitorous wife who'd been cheating on him for who knew how long (judging by several unnamed sources and 'that steamy, clearly well-acquainted kiss!') If she hadn't already been through something so similar, perhaps it wouldn't have affected Hermione quite so drastically, but she knew how gospel the Wizarding World took these newspapers to be; and that had been when there was no evidence or grounding in her having an affair with Harry. This time they had the photos to twist whatever way they liked, even the little touches at the press conference, or how close they'd been sitting in the courtroom. She couldn't let her children grow up hearing their mother called a whore and a slut, ostracised by society. She couldn't pursue anything further with Draco and she had to tell him.
That didn't stop him from trying to persuade her otherwise. Every day there was a letter delivered by owl. She knew she should burn them before someone took a page from Rita Skeeter's book and flew through the window to collect their evidence, but she kept it in her drawer, along with the letter he'd sent saying Hugo was safe and inviting them to stay, all tied up in a red ribbon. It was like something medievally romantic in this advanced, often crazy world, even if she couldn't tell him how much she appreciated it.
On the fourteenth day the owl was late. She wondered if he'd given up and moved on, a thought which made her unexplainably sad. She couldn't have it both ways. If she wasn't going to be with him then that was that. Finally the bird arrived, a little late not because he didn't care but because of the heavier load it carried. A bouquet of her favourite flowers; she inhaled with her eyes shut for a few moments, imagining he was in front of her and had just handed her these before taking her off on their first date, something romantic but creative probably. She wasn't usually so dreamy, but it was nice to fantasise. Especially when someone was providing such perfect ammunition to do so.
She opened the note. This one was short, but sweet.
H: is for your wild hair, when I used to mock it I didn't recognise how well it captures your attitude
E: is for your chocolate eyes, more addictive than my favourite, richest bar
R: is for the red dress you were wearing at my practise, I like to think of that as our second first meeting
M: is for the maddening way I can't hide how my heart leaps when I see you
I: is for the irises you love. I'd never paid them much attention before, but smelling them now I understand why you adore them
O: is for Oh My Salazar what am I doing? I'm not my son's age- even he probably has more lyrical ability than me
N: is the answer; Never have I felt this way about anyone since my wife, and that took time, even when we were together
E: is the antidote; End up with me. I won't pester you forever, but if you feel like I do, meet me at the park outside my practise today at mid-day. I really hope you do.
The letter had her laughing, crying, realising that she'd been sorted into Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw as she'd expected- for a reason. If Draco was brave enough to chance this after what he'd been through then she could be brave too.
Draco tried to leave for the park multiple times, but his secretary Lisa stopped him each one, reminding him that he had a lot of work to get done. He was thankful for the reminder, and the unspoken protection from just waiting for hours on the grass wondering whether or not she'd show up. In reality he was her boss, and they both knew he could override her if he liked, but they also both knew she was right. He started his lunch break at ten to eleven, making his way down the stairs when Lisa stopped him by calling out his first name, rather than Mr Malfoy. He turned around and saw her holding out a single iris. She passed it to him and wished him good luck. "Thank you," he replied, knowing he'd need all of that he could get.
If she in fact showed up, he'd doubted she'd be there already, but he soon saw her sitting cross legged under a sparse of trees, smelling the bouquet. With each step panic swelled that maybe she'd just come to tell him in person that she couldn't do this, but then she looked up and he knew. She raced towards him, but before she could throw herself into his arms he held out his own, quickly saying before she got worried he'd been the one who changed his mind, "I just need to say something, I've had it planned." She giggled, biting her lip, before nodding for him to continue. "How can two people who hated each other for years end up here? How can I take back all of those moments? I don't know the answer to either of these questions, but I do know that when I heard what you were going through I wanted to make up for them." He tried to slow himself down, knowing he was stumbling over the words in his excitement and anticipation. "Slowly I wanted to do more than that, and my feelings started to snowball, getting out of control until a straw broke the camel's back; seeing your self doubt after your incredible bravery at the trial. It reinforced everything I loved about you. I want to be with you; ultimately I want us to be a family."
"I love you too," she beamed, and he thought it was a better speech than his had been tenfold. He kissed her before she could him, then they just relaxed comfortably into each other's arms. Ending the romance, she said, "I don't mean to ruin the moment, but would you mind repeating that in an hour?"
Hermione was glad her explanation of how she'd tipped the press off as to where they were didn't make Draco go running. Actually he was proud that she was embracing a little of her devious slyness while he'd taken on some bravery. They gave a show almost as persuasive as the real moment had been, and the next day the papers were admonishing Tracey for her baseless slander and embracing the new, much more accurate, fairytale. She doubted the papers would always be on their side, but they'd face whatever was thrown at them together.
