Chapter 9 – The one where everyone talks about the same thingThat you were once unkind, befriends me now, Sonnet 120 Shakespeare
And for that sorrow which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgressions bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel,
For if you were by my unkindness shaken,
As I by yours, y'have pass'd a hell of time,
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken,
To weigh how once I suffered for your crime.
But no more. She wanted some answers from her former 'enemy cum current friend' and she wanted them now. Breaking free for a moment, she pushed at him and said, "Why… why do you want to marry me?"
"I think you know why," he said. "You kiss divinely." Growling low in his throat as their tongues warred in their mouths, he continued assaulting her lips until he had a flash of thought. Why did she ask that question?
Pushing her away, he said, "You're the one I want, and I want you for only one reason, because I want you. Can't that be enough of a reason?"
She shook her head, straightened her shoulders as she pushed back her hair and she said, "If only it was the reason."
Picking up her hand, bringing to his mouth for another kiss, he asked, "What if I said I want to marry you because I enjoy kissing you?"
"What if I said that was the wrong answer, too?" She pulled her hand away. "One more try."
She knew she had him dead to rights when he raised an eyebrow, backed away from her and laughed. "Fine, who told you? Was it Astoria or Pansy? Who told you about my daughter?"
Hermione stared directly into Draco's eyes, waiting for him to elaborate in some way… with a punch line, a plea of temporary insanity, a nudge-nudge-wink-wink 'I'm only kidding', or even a claim that he was lying.
Instead, he merely stared at her, awaiting her reply.
Draco had a daughter? Since when? No one told her about a daughter! Goodness, who was the mother? Where was this 'phantom' child? Was he delusional? Something told her that he was perfectly sane and that he was telling the truth for once. What a shock.
A daughter.
Earlier, in the dress shoppe, Hermione found out (by accident) that Draco had, had an affair with Pansy Parkinson while he was married to Astoria (on purpose, apparently). She vaguely recalled him saying that 'indiscretions were the reason they divorced', but she honestly assumed it was Astoria who was to blame for their divorce, since Draco had no qualms telling everyone that the woman had slept with Marcus Flint while married to him.
Well, apparently Draco had been a bit preoccupied during their union as well.
It was bad enough to overhear Astoria and Pansy beleaguer with contempt to that fact while she was in a dressing room trying on an ugly yellow gown. It was even worse hearing Ginny Weasley chime in, bemoaning the fact that Pansy had also broken up her engagement to Harry Potter (… so not true!), but to find out FROM Draco that Draco had cheated during his marriage and had a daughter – well, that was paramount to lunacy. It was a wound to her heart.
Especially given the fact that she had defended him! She flew out of the dressing room, gave Ginny, Pansy and Astoria all a proper dressing down, ranted about "throwing stones at glass houses" … "looking at themselves in a mirror"… "Pot calling the kettle black", and then she left in a huff, angry with them all.
Now, to hear from his own mouth that he had a daughter wounded her straight in her heart for some odd reason.
He didn't owe Hermione Granger anything, did he? They weren't anything to each other. Therefore, she didn't have a right to be angry at his little blasé announcement.
Even though she was.
She was angry that he had withheld something so important to her. He had lied. He had cheated during his marriage to Astoria, betraying his marriage. She was angry that he was so bloody handsome that it hurt her eyes. And she was angry because he seemed to have children to spare.
She was also angry that she had defended him, especially since SHE couldn't have children at all. And wasn't that the root of all her problems? Of course, that was another story.
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He glared at her in confusion after his announcement. Baffled by her silence, and her anguished look, he knew that his own expression must have mirrored hers, because he now realized that she didn't know that little tidbit about him, now did she?
Breaking the silence, she gasped and said, "You have a daughter? Since when have you had a daughter? How old is she? Is she younger than Scorpius? Who's the mother?" Her voice stayed level, though it cracked slightly as she tacked on, "You have a daughter."
Well, yeah, he just said that, didn't he?
Draco felt a less than literal knot in his stomach, and it swiftly jumped up to his throat, strangling him – choking him – so badly that he couldn't decipher what she was asking him now. He tried to swallow the bastard of a knot back down to his gut, but it remained lodged where it was, somewhere between his uvula and his tonsils, choking him so badly that he could barely breathe.
If she wasn't angry about his daughter, why the hell was she angry?
He facilitated between telling her the whole, mitigated truth, and telling a lie. Feeling truthfulness was certainly prudent he decided to tread carefully, taking time to formulate what he was going to tell her next.
Because, by the stars above, she was so beautiful. The sun was shining down through the branches and boughs of the heavy trees around them, and she looked lovelier than he'd ever seen her. Yes, he would be truthful… to a point.
Finally swallowing the golf ball size 'hell and a hand basket announcement' that he had just made aloud, he said, "What did you say? Did you ask me something?" Fine, he decided to err on the side of caution and lie to the woman, even as the mother-fucking knot in his throat sunk to the pit of his stomach, finally taking up residence in his toes.
Calmly, almost too calmly, she said, "Do not try to confuse me by answering my question with another question. I'm smarter than you are, so it won't work. You have a daughter. You just said so. You may take up the explanation from there."
Scratching his chin with his finger, he decided, "Why don't you tell me what you heard first. Why were you so angry when you left the dress store?" There. He could deflect if he wanted to, because even if she WAS smarter than he WAS, he was better at manipulating situations for his own gain.
Her chest expanded as she let out a long-held breath. Staring at the lane before her, she said, "I'm going to go down that lane, alone, and think about things. When I get back to the house, I'm throwing the ugly yellow dress in the rubbish, and then you and I are going to have a discussion where you will stop answering my questions with more questions. Be prepared."
She started down the path in the woods, alone, but turned again to face him. "I know I have no reason to be upset. You owe me nothing. We aren't even friends, so none of it matters."
"Of course it matters," he protested, storming over to her, grabbing her elbow in his hand. Instead of beleaguering that point, he added, "but you go on to the house alone. I need to see to something first."
"Are you going to see about your daughter?" As he watched her fold her arms under her breasts, he realized she couldn't even ask that question with the ire or sarcasm that he was sure she wanted to ask it. Instead, the question came out of her mouth with a wistful sadness that made Draco cringe.
"Among other things," he promised, reaching out sharply to snag her hand in his. "I want you to remember something, little lion. This doesn't change a damn thing." With that cryptic statement, he pulled her to him, took her mouth hard with his, and then pushed her away, and then, Draco Malfoy Disapparated. He had to talk to Pansy Parkinson, and he had to talk to her immediately.
"Bless my soul, I can hardly believe what you're telling me," Rose Weasley exclaimed to Scorpius Malfoy while they were walking along the side of a steep hill, heading back to his mother's house.
"Yes, I know, I can scarcely believe it sometimes either, but it's true. I have a little sister," he repeated.
The day started out nice. Very nice. They hiked to the top of a hill beyond his mother's estate, sat on the side of it, while basking in unseasonably warm and pretty weather, and while they sat side by side, they began to talk to each other.
Really talk to each other.
Sure, he'd known Rose for years and years, and they had some classes together at school (which they would both have to return to in a week), but he still felt as if he barely knew her.
He started to ask her questions such as, "What's your favourite colour?" Hers was green and his was red. He asked her what her favourite classes were. Hers were Transfiguration and Charms. He liked Ancient Runes and Arthimancy. They both hated Potions. They both liked Defense Against the Dark Arts. He found out her favourite music was Muggle pop-music, while his was classical. He found out that her favourite author was also his. After today, he felt he knew her so much better than he did before.
Even though he wanted to know her even better. He wanted to 'know her' know her, not just mundane things like favourite colours and songs. He wanted to know her inside and out, forward and backwards, intimately.
And he wanted her to know him, so he asked if she had any siblings. She laughed and said, "None that I know of, but you've been in school with me for years, so you should know that as well as I do. Your mum is marrying my dad. I hope they don't get any bright ideals about giving us any joint siblings. That would be too much! But no, I think you would know if I had siblings."
Trying hard to hide his embarrassment, he laughed a strained laugh and said, "I didn't know I had any either, until last month."
"Any what?" Rose asked, distractedly.
"What were we just talking about, Rose?" he asked. "A sister. I have a little sister."
She laughed a bit, slipped her shoes off her feet and asked, "Is this an imaginary sister, or is it one we all can see?" She chortled and laughed, thinking he was joking. When he didn't join in the laughter, she gasped in shock and said, "You have a sister?"
Nodding, he grasped a small wildflower in his hand, crushed it in his fist, and said, "A younger sister. She's just five years old. Her name is Fiona."
This led to her exclamation of, "Bless my soul, I can hardly believe what you're telling me."
Nevertheless, it was true. He confirmed it by repeating the phrase, "Yes, I know, I can scarcely believe it sometimes either, but it's true. I have a little sister."
"From your mother or father?" she asked, still sorting through everything in her mind. Did this mean that the little girl would be Rose's stepsister? No, not if it was from his father. Damn. She always wanted a sister. "How is this possible?"
"I'm not up to explaining the birds and bees to you, Rosebud." He raised an eyebrow, and she swatted his arm.
"I know HOW, I meant, well, how?" She slipped her shoes back on her feet and waited.
Falling back to the grass, he looked up at the blue sky as he explained. "My father had an affair with Pansy Parkinson a little more than five or so years ago. It was one of many – both of my parents cheated – but the affair between my dad and Pansy produced little Fiona. Pansy didn't even tell anyone about her for the longest time. She went to France while she was pregnant, delivered the baby while there, and then gave it up. Just like that, she gave it, or rather, gave her, meaning Fiona, to her parents to raise. Thing is, her mother is very ill, and I guess the grandparents can't raise her any longer."
Scorpius explained, "My father only found out about her a few months ago, because Pansy's father told my father. Now my grandfather is threatening to sue for custody with the Ministry of Magic, unless my father gets married and begins to act as a father should, at least in Lucius' eyes."
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Hearing Scorpius' story, and seeing how upset he was, brought Rose's famous temper to full bloom. Hands clenched at her sides, she stood on the hillside by his feet and said, "That woman is so awful! She had an affair with my father for a while, too, and judging by the way they were kissing under the eaves last night, it's still happening! UGH! Why are there women like that? Why do woman go after married men! I should tell your mother that I saw Pansy and my father kissing!"
"My mother probably already knows, and it's not right to only blame the woman. It's the man's fault as well," Scorpius chimed in, although he thought it odd that he was the one blaming men and she was the one blaming women. He rather thought it should be the other way around.
Patting the ground beside him, he said, "Sit down. I'll tell you the rest." She sat down promptly and looked up into his face with her big, expressive eyes. He said, "My grandfather was very upset when he heard the news. He's the one who told my father, and he said it's bad enough that the little girl is a bastard, but he won't stand for my father skirting his responsibilities to her. So, my dad has to marry, and quick, or Grandfather Malfoy is going to end up with her by order of the Ministry of Magic, and that wouldn't be good for any little girl, believe me."
"Especially as he called her a bastard," Rose interjected.
Scorpius smiled. "Grandfather said that if she had to be a bastard, at least she was a pureblooded one, which was better than being a halfblood or mudblood bastard." He laughed, turned to look at her again, but she wasn't smiling. Not in the least.
Rose stood and he promptly followed. Her hackles were raised by his casual use of the word 'bastard' but the fact that he laughed about what his grandfather said, and that he could bandy about the words 'mudblood' with such ease, caused her to see red.
"Your grandfather is an idiot and the best thing that can happen for your sister is for your father to marry and make sure that man never gets his Death Eater claws into her!"
Scorpius poked her in the chest. "Don't call my grandfather names!"
"Why? He is a Death Eater, and an idiot!" She poked him back.
"He's not an idiot and he's a former Death Eater, Weasley. FORMER Death Eater!"
Pushing him away from her, she said, "You're right! You're the idiot!"
"For a smart girl you have a limited vocabulary!" he barked. "And there's only one thing I agree with you about, and it's that the little wretch hasn't done anything to deserve being raised by Lucius Malfoy. Hence, the reason my father even came to this event. He wants to find a wife."
Suddenly, Rose's mouth opened in shock. "Your father's been paying attention to Aunt Hermione! I have to go tell her!" Turning, she started to run down the side of the hill, her long red hair trailing like ribbons behind her.
After a mere few seconds, he said, "Wait, Rose! Don't tell! I promised my dad that I wouldn't tell anyone!" He started down the hill, saying to himself, "I am a freaking idiot!"
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Harry Potter felt like such an idiot. He walked into the dark library at Astoria's grand manse hoping to find Susan Bones in there. He felt as if he owed her an apology of some sort. He didn't know why he felt that way, but he did. Seeing nothing but an empty room in front of him, he walked over to the sideboard, pored out two fingers of gin into a glass, and sat down in a chair by the window. Turning it so that it faced the outside, with his back toward the door, he reflected on his anger as he stared at his reflection in the glass.
He was angry with her because she was oblivious to his feelings for her, which really wasn't her fault. He was angry because she didn't return his feelings. He was angry because Ron had treated her shabbily when he was married to her. He was angry because he was angry. He sighed.
Hearing the door open, he looked into the glass of the window in front of him and spied Susan walking through the threshold. As soon as she saw the room was occupied, she turned to leave.
"Leaving so soon, Professor Bones?" he asked lightly. His head was beginning to throb.
"Ah… well, I, you see…" she stammered, and then stopped. "I was actually looking for you. How did you know it was I? Your back is to the door."
"Your reflection," he said, tapping the window with the hand not holding the drink. That and the heavenly way she smelled. Like lilacs and springtime. He turned the chair to face her and said, "Well, come in and close the door."
She did, although she seemed to hesitate. "Did I offend you back in the village?" she asked.
"So astute," he remarked, although not acerbically. "While, I'm not sure offend is the correct word, it hardly signifies. Will you join me?"
"Will you answer the question?" She sat in the chair next to him, and pushed his hand away from her face as he offered her a sip from his glass.
"Why did you and Ron divorce?" he asked her, instead of answering her question. Closing his weary eyes, placing the glass of golden liquid on his knee, he waited for his answer.
"You know why," she said tartly. "He cheated on me."
When he turned back to look at her, she was staring at her hands in her lap. Placing his glass on the table between them, he couldn't resist leaning close and grabbing one of those hands. "I'm sorry you were hurt."
Watching his hand as it toyed with hers, she abruptly pulled it from his grasp and said, "Its Ron's fault, not yours. Why are you sorry?"
Closing his eyes, he let his fatigued head fall back to the headrest of the chair. "Never mind."
She angled her body in the chair so she could face him fully. "What's wrong, Harry? Why are you upset? Something I did upset you. Tell me, so I can make amends."
His eyes still closed, he said, "Why would you want to make amends? You can't stand me. Whenever I'm close to you, you act as if my nearness makes your skin crawl." He opened his eyes to look at a round, shocked expression in her own. "You don't have to deny it, for I know it's true. You don't think of me with any favour, do you?"
"Why are you asking me this?" She sunk into the corner of her chair, maintained eye contact with him, and said, "Is this because I threw a shoe at you?"
"Oh for goodness sakes," he murmured, getting up from the chair. "This has nothing to do with your flying shoes, and everything to do with the fact that you barely see me when you look at me."
He started toward the door.
She surprised them both by bounding from her chair and following him. Pulling him to a stop with a hand on his arm, she rushed in front of him. "I see you. Of course, I see you. Please, what's wrong?"
"You never say my name," he said.
"I call you Harry," she said after a pause, looking more confused than ever.
Shaking his head, he declared, "That's not what I mean. You don't really see me, you don't talk to me, you call me 'Mr. Potter' or plain 'Potter' more than you say 'Harry' and when you do say my name, and you don't look at me when you say it."
She looked over at the empty glass he left on the table between the chairs. "Are you pissed? How much did you have to drink?"
"I'm not pissed; I've just had an epiphany. You're never really going to like me, are you? You blame me because you feel as if I broke up your marriage."
"No, Harry." She said his name very deliberately, but softly. "Ronald did that when he cheated with Pansy and then Astoria."
"Then you don't blame me for telling you about his affairs?" Harry asked.
She shook her head. "I'm glad you did. I'm glad you could act so honourably, especially seeing that he's your best mate."
"I didn't tell you to be honourable," he spat, moving his arm away from her hand. "I told you because I wanted you to break up with him. I wanted to ruin your marriage, because I wanted…" He stopped. Tried again. "I wanted…" He couldn't admit it. He couldn't tell her that he was a selfish git who only told her about her husband's infidelities because he wanted her for himself.
"What did you want, Harry?" Moving to block his way to the closed door, she reached up and cupped his cheek. "Tell me. Tell me what you want."
She said his name while looking directly into his eyes. She said it twice in as many minutes, and she was looking at him so sweetly, she smelled so divine, and she was so very pretty. Plus, she didn't blame him for telling her about Ron's affairs. "It's not what I wanted, but what I want. I want you," he answered low, then he reached for her neck, placing his hand behind her mass of dark curls, and he lowered his head to kiss her.
That was when the door flew opened, causing Harry and Susan to jump apart in alarm. Hermione was standing in the doorway, with a sad look upon her face. Dropping his hand from Susan's neck, he reached for his best friend and asked, "What's wrong, Hermione? What happened?"
"Oh, Harry," she began, "I've been such a fool. I've entertained an infatuation for Draco Malfoy, but it can't go anywhere, and I feel like such a fool."
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Pulling her to him, Harry patted her back and looked at Susan. Feeling rather like a third wheel, (which she often felt when Harry was around Hermione) she just nodded to him and turned away, even as she heard Hermione say, "He has a daughter, Harry. A little girl, whom he doesn't even acknowledge, nor does he even raise her. A little girl, Harry. A daughter. What's worst is that I just saw Rose and she told me that Pansy Parkinson is the mother." Then she started to cry.
Susan closed the door to give them privacy, and then she stormed down the long hallway to have a 'chat' with Draco Malfoy.
