Chapter Nine: Surprise

2 September 2017

Hermione stifled a yawn as she listened to Percy drone on about... something. She'd lost track of what the topic actually was. At least he'd grown out of talking about cauldron bottoms. Sunday lunches at the Burrow were a welcome, relaxing addition to her week, but sometimes she itched to gag her brother-in-law.

Two owls swooped over the table and cut off Percy's monologue just as George readied a spoonful of mashed potato to lob at him.. The first bird, Albus's owl, perched in front of Harry. The second, a snobbish looking sooty owl, landed on Teddy's plate. After Teddy unfastened the letter it had dunked in his gravy, the impatient bird hopped a few feet down the table and held a spindly leg out to Hermione. The parchment of the letter bearing her name was thick, with an elaborate wax seal that identified it as being from a solicitor in Wiltshire.

"What in the name of... ?" Teddy said as he perused his own letter, his eyebrows drawing together. Harry, for his part, chuckled over his post.

"Apparently my presence is requested at the reading of Lucius Malfoy's will," Teddy said, sending the rest of the table's occupants into stunned silence.

Hermione tore open the wax seal, half-knowing what she would find inside, half-refusing to believe it was true.

"Me too," she said, though she read the short note three more times, just to be sure.

"What would he want to leave to you?" Ron asked once he'd swallowed his mouthful of roast. Throughout Teddy and Hermione's news, he'd kept eating.

"I haven't the slightest idea," she said. "Harry, what does Albus have to say?"

After clearing his throat, Harry read his son's message aloud.

Dear Mum and Dad,

You were right, Dad, the hat gave me a choice. We had a chat about whether I wanted to be overshadowed by my brother or make my own path. I thought about all of the stuff you said about Slytherin, and I decided that if it was good enough for the bravest man you ever knew, then it was good enough for me. So, I'm a Slytherin now. Believe it or not, so is Rose.

She's not as happy about it as I am. I don't think she's written to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione yet. She won't tell me what the hat said to her, either. James hasn't even teased me about being in Slytherin, since he saw how upset Rose is. I know it's coming, though. I'm just glad I am prepared. Tell Uncle George thank you, by the way. He'll know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, I'm going to go try to cheer Rose up a bit. Bye!

Love,

Albus

"Well," Arthur said, leaning back in his chair. "Curious post today."

Conversation picked up around the table again, starting in tiny whispers among the youngest members of the family. Hermione remained silent. What could the Sorting Hat have said to Rose that she wouldn't share with her favourite cousin?

Molly scooped more food onto several of her grandchildren's plates. "At least they have each other, so neither of them has to be alone inSlytherin," she said. "Hmph. Still, maybe I should send Rosie a care package. Poor dear."

Ron set down his fork, shook his head, and forced out a laugh. "A Potter and a Weasley in Slytherin. I guess that old hat has finally lost it. It probably put Malfoy's kid in Hufflepuff."

As Ron, Ginny, and Harry debated how Draco would've got on, had he been sorted into Hufflepuff himself (trying to turn the hard workers of that House into his minions being the most popular theory), Hermione turned her attention back to the solicitor's letter.

"Maybe he saw the error of his ways and has donated his fortune to spew," George said, prodding her arm with the handle of his fork.

"S.P.E.W," she said, mostly out of habit. "And I highly doubt it."

Lucius Malfoy even pretendingto be interested in house elf welfare was about as likely as Severus Snape coming back from the dead to give Harry a great big kiss for naming a child in honour of him.

"He always did like to use charitable donations to improve his family's image," Percy said.

Not that there was much of the family remaining. If Theodore Nott was to be believed — and, given his father's former profession, Hermione thought he was — Lucius and Narcissa's lives had been shortened by the number of curses they took on Draco's behalf during Voldemort's second rise to power. Time and again, they'd placed themselves between their son and their Master, until their bodies began to wither.

Hermione slid the letter beneath her plate, as if tucking it away would shut it out of her thoughts. "I guess I'll find out what he left me tomorrow. Ugh, they couldn't let us know sooner? I'm going to have to take the afternoon off. Inconsiderate, even now, Lucius. I bet he's left me a portrait of himself so he can sneer and call me Mu—" she broke off when she noticed the wide eyes of her nieces and nephews staring at her, "—ggleborn from beyond the grave."

"If he has left you some sort of... artefact, be sure to get it checked out by the Auror department, okay?" Arthur said.

"Yeah," Ginny said with a grin. "Don't accept any diaries from Lucius Malfoy."

-oOo-

3 September 2017

The polished cherry wood conference table looked obscenely long with only four people sitting at it. At the head was Lucius's solicitor, looking every bit as snooty as her deceased client. She was flanked by Hermione and Teddy on one side and Draco on the other.

Hermione was surprised the Ministry hadn't used The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation as an excuse to seize the contents of Lucius's will. Then again, things had changed considerably since Scrimgeour showed up at the

Burrow with Dumbledore's will all those years ago. The fact that Lucius had left an obsceneamount of Galleons to the Ministry might have also played a part.

The solicitor's voice droned on as she announced to the tiny audience what Lucius had bequeathed to various charities, Draco (good Lord, that was a lot of Galleons), and Teddy (half a million Galleons? Perhaps he'd discovered some remorse in his final years for the way his wife's family treated Andromeda).

Hermione's internal commentary came to a screeching halt when the solicitor reached the last bequest.

"To Rose Cedrella Weasley, I leave Gringotts vault number 6208, containing the sum of one million galleons."

Hermione turned a stunned face to Draco, speaking to him for the first time since entering the room. "Why would your father leave anything to my daughter?"

"I wish I knew."

"He left a letter for you, Mrs. Weasley," the solicitor said, producing two envelopes from her briefcase. "And one for you, Mr. Lupin."

The envelope seemed innocent enough, but Hermione stared at it as if it was the reincarnation of Nagini, ready to strike her dead. In the end, curiosity won out. She unfolded Lucius's explanation.

Mrs Weasley,

If you are reading this, it means two things have happened. One: your daughter is not yet seventeen. Two: I am dead. Before you begin what I'm sure will be an enthusiastic tap dance on my grave, please read the rest of this letter.

You may recall meeting my late wife in Diagon Alley some years ago. You had your daughter with you, and Narcissa fawned over her. What you don't know is that when she was stroking the child's head, Narcissa took a sample of her hair. Narcissa was understandably shocked to see her own eyes staring back at her when she looked at Rose. She knew of the romantic entanglement between yourself and Draco prior to his marriage. As such, she decided it wouldn't hurt to be sure.

Imagine our surprise when the paternity spell revealed that Draco is Rose's father. I imagine it must come as quite a shock to you as well. I have reason to believe you were not aware of your child's paternity.

You're probably wondering why I left Rose an inheritance when I am, of course, unwilling to acknowledge her as my granddaughter. My wife wanted to give Rose a Gringotts vault when she came of age. Narcissa always had a bit of a soft spot when it came to Draco, and she knew he would want his daughter taken care of, illegitimate or no. I never intended to do such a thing, but when Narcissa passed away, I decided to honour one of her last wishes. Consider this to be Rose's money to do with as she pleases, as a gift from her paternal grandmother.

I had hoped to live long enough to deal with Rose directly, but that doesn't appear to be in the cards. My solicitor tells me you must be informed of any bank vaults that appear under your child's name before she turns seventeen. Since I know you have a tendency to stick your nose where it doesn't belong, I thought it would be best to be honest with you (though, believe me, the action brings me no joy whatsoever). I didn't want you to go snooping around for the truth, as you would undoubtedly drag Draco into it and jump to incorrect conclusions.

I've left instructions for you to be given this note when your husband is not present. As much as I would love to see Weasley lose his temper when he finds out, it's your right to tell him this news when and if you wish. And if I'm not there to enjoy his reaction, it rather takes all of the fun out of it, don't you think?

One last thing: please don't tell Draco that Rose is his daughter. He and Astoria have a happy marriage, but something like this could ruin them — especially given the timing of Rose's birth. I know you wouldn't want to deny a dying man's last wish, even if he is an unconscionable bastard like myself. If Draco asks you about Rose's vault, I would request that you make up some sort of lie. You needn't be too creative; just tell him it's a scholarship or something of that sort.

I trust you will do the right thing, Mrs. Weasley.

Lucius Malfoy

"This doesn't make any sense," Hermione said.

"Really?" Teddy asked. "Mine just says that my great aunt wanted to see that my grandmother and I were taken care of. What's yours say?"

"It, um. It's not possible."

Draco leant across the table and tugged the letter from her hand. She let him. Why shouldn't he read it? It couldn't be true. Even if it was, she would've told him. Lucius couldn't convince her to keep that a secret.

"Always the consummate liar, even in death," Draco said as he handed the note back.

Hermione scoffed. "Of course he was lying, but why? Did he really hate me so much that he wanted to try to ruin my life even after he was dead?"

"I wasn't referring to what he said about Rose. I meant the very last part — the bit about my soon-to-be ex-wife and I having a happy marriage."

The solicitor and Teddy looked on, the former with barely concealed disinterest, the latter with a Metamorphosed copy of his father's gentle, knowing eyes. Eager to escape both of them, Hermione stood and motioned for Draco to join her in the hall.

"Draco, really," she said once they were alone. "How could she be yours? It'snot possible."

"Why do you keep saying that? It's entirely possible. Or do you not remember the night before my wedding?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you need to see the Pensieve memory? We... Christ, you really don't remember, do you?" Extending an arm, he raised his eyebrows — in challenge or invitation, she couldn't tell. "Come with me? I can show you."

Without a second thought for the solicitor and Teddy, she placed her hand on Draco's forearm and waited for the squeeze of side-along Apparition. He took her to Malfoy Manor, now quiet and deserted, and led her into a room on the first floor with fireplaces as big as her old flat and a wide stone basin on a pedestal. Touching his wand to his temple, Draco placed a few misty strands in the basin. Hermione didn't wait for an invitation; she dived in, falling into visions of her and Draco talking about his engagement in the Leaky Cauldron, whirling back to his flat, and entwining their naked bodies.

He'd told her he would always call her Granger.

She watched him ask her to run away with him, read his lips promising he would want her every day. How had she never known? Magic shouldn't have been able to take this away. Some part of her should've remembered and held it close.

What else didn't she remember? Had she only lost that night? And why did Lucius have "reason to believe" that she wasn't aware of Rose's paternity? What had he done to her?

Music signalled the beginning of Draco's wedding and ejected her from the Pensieve, catapulting her out of that sunlit warmth. Gasping, she pressed a hand to her chest as if trying to feel the echo of Draco's memories there.

His voice penetrated her jumbled thoughts, rising over the roar of her pulse. "I wondered why you never showed up." He smiled, soft and regretful, as he leant against the doorframe. "Are you okay?"

"I hardly know. Do you think your father did this? Erased my memory?"

As the question left her lips, Hermione fought to swallow a rising flood of tears. She would not, under any circumstances, give Lucius Malfoy the satisfaction of making her cry. She had to get to Hogwarts and perform the paternity spell herself. Taking Lucius's word on the subject would be madness, no matter what she had seen in the Pensieve, no matter if Rose had been sorted into Slytherin.

"No." Ice splintered his voice. "I have a different suspect in mind."

Hermione shoved Lucius's letter into her handbag and fumbled for her wand. Acres of space in this mansion, and still it didn't have enough air. She couldn't breathe properly.

"I need to get out of here," she said.

"All right, but Granger? We need to talk about this. Soon."

"Yes, I suppose we do."