Summary: Hermione Granger is a writer for Witch Weekly, and she's just been assigned a new story. Draco Malfoy. He's recently become a widower, and is now Wizarding London's most eligible bachelor. With her frequent visits for interviews, will something blossom between the two? Or will Hermione simply be forced to watch her twenty-three year old enemy care for his son on his own?
Interview for Life
Chapter Seven: How Much Love
Hermione woke with a pounding headache; her eyes squeezed tight against the sun as it attempted to filter through her curtains. Reaching to her bedside table, she managed to take hold of her wand, placing the tip to her temple and muttering a simple incantation. Within seconds, the pain behind her eyes lessened and she was able to sit up. Rolling her eyes at her duties for the day, she climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She was beginning to really hate her job.
-;-;-;
Stepping up to the door of Malfoy Manor, Hermione dusted off her skirt, eyes focused on the knocker in front of her. Did she really want to deal with him today? Her hand lifted of its own accord and, before she knew it, the door was being pulled open. Mipsy looked up at her with wide eyes before leading her toward the large staircase. "If missus waits here, Mipsy will fetch master." Hermione nodded her understanding, the house-elf disappearing with a 'crack.'
Busying herself with pieces of lint that had stuck themselves to the black pleats, she didn't notice the return of Mipsy until the kind creature cleared her little throat. "Master Malfoy says for missus to wait in library." As Mipsy walked passed, Hermione could have sworn she heard, "Master is fixing his nose." But, knowing perfectly well that house-elves couldn't speak about such things, she simply shrugged it off and followed.
-;-;-;
Her fingers were pressed to her temples, rubbing in circles to relieve the headache that so desperately wished to return. She was so focused on it, that she didn't notice Draco waltz into the room and seat himself. At least, not until she heard his voice plummet through her thoughts. "What were you doing in Twill & Tatting's yesterday? With the Weaselette, none-the-less?" His voice was cold and slightly nasally, yet when Hermione rolled her head to the side to survey him, she didn't see any sign that his nose had ever been broken. Rolling her eyes, she thought to herself, magic does such wondrous things.
"Why, Malfoy, did you miss me?" She righted herself, swinging her legs over the side of the couch so she could look into his eyes as she spoke. Going about her daily routine, the Quick Quotes Quill and parchment were withdrawn from her purse, her wand resting on the cushion beside her. It was after several moments of Draco not answering her question that she finally quirked an eyebrow. He raised both of his in return before Hermione shrugged and decided to go on with the rest of her questions. "You seem to be quite happy here, Malfoy. Is there any particular reason why you're looking for a wife?" Her voice was civil and polite, which nearly startled her after the Slytherin's rude actions in the shop yesterday.
She was just beginning to believe that she was going insane when Draco began to speak. "To be honest, Granger, this is more for my son's benefit than my own." Hermione would have believed him, had he not suddenly shifted his eyesight away from her. There was something there that he refused to show, and it was beginning to get on Hermione's nerves. Her mouth dropped open to speak and Draco held up a hand to silence her. "But, if you absolutely must know the truth, it is for my own reasons, as well." He paused, his lips slimming slightly as he tried to figure the best phrase. "Pansy and I never really loved each other. It was an arranged marriage; we knew it to be, so we simply looked upon each other as if . . . Well, I looked at her as if she was the last step to my greatness. I suppose she looked at me differently, but we'll never know the truth in that."
Hermione drew her wand into her lap, rolling it in her fingertips as she listened to him. "Honestly, from knowing Pansy in school, it seemed that she was head-over-heels for you. Of course, all of us Gryffindors thought itt was because you were—" she froze.
"Good in bed?" He was smirking and Hermione offered a timid nod. "Whatever the case was, neither of us ever got to experience an emotion we'd heard so much about. That is precisely why I'm looking for a wife." He paused to let this sink in, Hermione's teeth worrying her lower lip as she thought, her eyes narrowed. Draco chuckled slightly at the image before continuing, "I want to find a woman who's compatible with me. More over, I want to know if I'm capable of loving someone other than my son." His eyes were downcast, glaring at the floor as if the expensive marble was the cause of all his grief.
Hermione was stunned with this sudden flush of information; a new side to the cruel Draco Malfoy. The corners of her lips turned up into a smile, before she caught something he forgot to mention. "What about your parents, Malfoy? Didn't you love them, as well?"
Draco's eyes were suddenly nothing more than hard malice, ripping into her mind as they made contact with her own. She recoiled against the couch at his sudden change in attitude, her back pressing deep into the cushions. He was on his feet and pacing, inching further toward her with each zigzagging stride. "How dare you mention my parents, Granger! I loved them, true, but only for that short period of time when every child is innocent enough to love everything. Bloody Hell, when I loved them I could have looked at Voldemort adoringly." He paused, realizing he was going soft again and he rounded on Hermione, placing his hands on either side of her head, palms against the couch cushions. "If you ever ask about my parents again, I'll personally make sure you never come back here."
Hermione smiled at this statement, her right hand lifting to place her palm against his cheek. "Such empty threats, Draco." Then, she reeled back her hand and slapped him hard across the face. His own hand trailed to the red mark on his pale flesh, his eyes wide as if he was still fighting with disbelief.
A snarl curled his lip as Hermione rose to gather her things and before she knew what was happening, he was behind her. His arm coiled itself about her waist, yanking her back flush against his front, his fingers splaying across her abdomen. Had she not been so stunned, perhaps she would have elbowed him in the side, but the sensation of his free hand tugging her hair from her face made her shiver against him. His lips were upon her flesh, his teeth grazing slightly before he nipped her—hard. It was all she could do not to scream, his hands creeping to her back to shove her forward, her own palms landing on the couch cushions. Straightening up, she took hold of her purse, snatching her wand from the couch and aiming it at him, "don't you ever put your hands on me again, Draco Malfoy." She was backing away from him as he began to cackle, looking too much like his wicked father for her to tolerate.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was already seated in the carriage, her lungs heaving as she attempted to catch her breath. What the blazes made her enjoy that so much? Her hand trailed to her neck, wincing as she felt the welt he'd left with his teeth. Rummaging through the contents of her purse, she managed to locate a small mirror, angling it just right to eye the vicious bruise that was forming. With a foul look on her face, she glared at nothing in particular. She couldn't heal it now . . . She didn't have proper view of it to aim her wand correctly. Her fist was jammed into the seat beside her; the cushions giving way just enough that she felt no pain.
-;-;-;
She apparated directly from the outside of her office building into her living room, rubbing her eyes slightly before she set her purse on the table beside the door. She was about to go change when strong arms wrapped about her middle from behind, red hair visible out of the corner of her eye as Ron leaned forward to press a kiss to her shoulder. She giggled lightly before spinning in his arms and shoving him away. "I need to go to the bathroom, Ronald. Give me a moment." Quickly withdrawing her wand from her purse, she rushed to her bathroom, eyes wide as she looked at herself in the mirror. Thank Merlin he hadn't kissed the other side! Placing the tip of her wand to her skin, she muttered an old incantation, sighing with relief when the wicked mark disappeared. Yes, she thought again, magic does indeed, do wondrous things.
-;-;-;
Hermione woke to the feel of someone's arm about her waist, her eyes rolling at the memory that she was—against her better judgement—making casual sex with Ronald Weasley a habit. She stirred a bit, trying to get out from underneath his possessive arm without waking him and doing so rather easily. Her best friend always had been a heavy sleeper. Smirking some, she quickly made her way to the bathroom for a morning shower, decided to set some coffee to start on her way. B-lining out the bedroom door, she padded across her apartment to her kitchen, setting up the coffeepot and clicking the switch to 'on.'
She stood in her kitchen for a moment, trying to remember exactly what had happened when a familiar green glow came from her fireplace. Trying in vain to cover her knickers and bra, her eyes narrowed slightly at the false alarm. Stupid floo-network passersby. Shrugging her shoulders, she headed back into her bedroom to see Ron still sleeping soundly in a tangle of sheets. Stifling a chuckle, her feet automatically carried her into the bathroom for a much-needed hot shower.
-;-;-;
Draco Malfoy woke to the sounds of his son crying in the bedroom next door, his figure automatically jumping out of bed, a startled look on his features. Wand in hand, he rushed to his son's side, beginning to wonder what in Merlin's name could be wrong with the little tyke.
His hand flew out in front of him as he approached the boy's bedroom, twisting the knob violently before he walked into the dark space. A flick of his wand allowed just enough light for Draco to see his son curled up in a ball of sheets, his tear-streaked face pale and sweaty. Malfoy was quickly by Chayton's side, his hand pressed to his forehead. Surely, it was just a common cold, which Draco had learned many spells to cure. So, muttering an incantation, he aimed the device at his son, cringing when the boy only screamed louder.
Twenty minutes later, Draco was pacing the bedroom, trying to figure if he'd left any spells out for curing a child's common flu. With an exasperated sigh, he knew what he had to do, although he really hated having to call on her for help.
-;-;-;
Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, a towel draped around her torso, soaked hair hanging in gentle ringlets down her back. Tucking a corner of the towel in beside her breast, she made her way to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee, smiling at the fact that the sun had decided to grace the day with its presence. A note on her writing desk caught her attention, as she didn't remember it being there before. Making her way toward it, she craned her neck to glance into her bedroom, realizing that her quilts were set back to normal.
Lifting the parchment to eye-level, Hermione read the brief note that Ron had scribbled, informing her of the fact that he 'couldn't deal with this anymore,' and that 'Malfoy should get his own bloody nurse, with all of the money he has.' Hermione's eyebrows lifted in confusion just as her fireplace crackled to a lively green hue. Out stepped Malfoy, looking rather tousled and worn. "Granger . . . You need to come with me. Now. Chayton's sick and," he hesitated, a snarl tilting his lips as he spat out the end of the phrase, "I need your help."
Hermione felt very self-conscious in that moment, wearing nothing more than a towel, her hand trailing to her wet hair to pull it over her shoulder. "Why would you need my help, Draco? You're a perfectly knowledgeable wizard. What makes you think I would help you after yesterday to begin with?"
Draco froze at her question, his eyes shifting away from her before traveling back. "Because, Granger. You're the only witch who can help. He has a muggle illness." He paused, his eyes as close to pleading as they could be, for a Malfoy. "He's a half-blood." Suddenly, Hermione realized just how much Draco Malfoy loved his son.
A/N: Guess what? You're right. Simply updating. Nothing has changed.
