Pretty sure some people are going to be mad at me for the way I ended this chapter (you'll see.) Fear not though, loyal readers, as I'm almost finished writing the next chapter.
Chapter 10
Kit sat on the edge of Hermione's bed, swinging her legs back and forth. "You swear Mr. Draco is gonna be there?" she asked.
It was the sixth time she had asked as Hermione dressed, and despite the roll of her eyes, she smiled. "I made him promise," she replied as she dug through her closet for a missing shoe. "I told him he had to come because you're going to be there, and if he didn't he'd be sad that he missed you."
"He would miss me," Kit stated matter-of-factly. "Would him be sad if he did?"
She extricated the shoe with a triumphant sigh and stepped out of the closet. "I think he would be," Hermione replied honestly, slipping her foot into the black heel. "Ready to go?"
Kit hopped off the bed, smoothed down the back of her dress, and ran ahead of her mother. "Mummy, someone's coming," she warned, reaching the first floor ahead of Hermione.
She hurried downstairs, already late for dinner, and opened the door just as she heard the knock. Draco stood on the front porch with a bouquet of daisies in hand. He plucked one from the bunch and handed it to Kit. "Those are Mummy's favorites," she informed him, taking him by the hand to lead him inside. "The lellow ones are pretty."
"They're beautiful, Draco," Hermione said, taking the flowers to the kitchen. "You didn't have to bring flowers though."
He picked Kit up and followed Hermione. "Ya know, you could just say thank you," he suggested. "We'd get out of here a lot quicker."
Turning on the tap, she filled a vase with water and arranged each flower. "Thank you," she said. "Yellow daisies are my favorite. How did you know?"
"I telled him, Mama," Kit said, holding tightly to the daisy Draco had given her.
"When we were at the park, she told me," Draco explained. "So, who's ready to eat?"
They arrived at a small Italian restaurant only fifteen minutes after Adrian and Max had been seated. Adrian waved them over and pulled out a chair beside himself for Hermione. Beside her, Draco helped Kit into her seat before rounding the table to sit next to Max. "Mummy, I wanna sit next to Mr. Draco too," Kit said, pulling on Hermione's shirt sleeve. "Why I can't sit next to him too?"
"You don't want to sit with me?" Hermione asked, pushing out her bottom lip. Kit shook her head and stared across the table at the empty chair on Draco's right. He gave her the slightest nod, letting Hermione know he was alright with her changing seats. "Okay, you can sit next to Mr. Draco," she relented.
Needing no help at all, Kit hopped off of her chair and walked quickly to the other side of the table. The kids sat quietly as Draco helped them select their dinner from the children's menu. Hermione watched in awe of how well he handled the two very young children. He was patient and kept them entertained, and never lost his cool with them even when Max's chocolate milk spilled in Draco's lap. He excused himself, and took Max with him to the men's room to clean up.
"Who'd have thought that Draco Malfoy possesses the patience of a saint," Hermione commented, her eyes following Draco until he disappeared.
"Mummy, I wanna go with them too," Kit announced, turning around on her chair to get a glimpse of Draco and Max.
"No," Hermione said without hesitation.
"Why?" Kit challenged, turning back to face her mother.
"Because you're a girl. Girls don't go in the men's bathroom."
The little girl took on an argumentative tone. "You say girls can do all the same things as boys. So I can go too."
Hermione huffed exasperatedly, while Adrian chuckled beside her. "May I?" he asked Hermione. When she muttered "Good luck," he turned a dazzling smile on the little girl. "Kit, trust me, you don't want to go in there. It's yucky, and boys are messy. You don't want your pretty dress to get dirty, do you?"
Elbows on the table, Kit cradled her face in her small hands. "Max doesn't have to wear a stupid dress," she muttered.
"That's because only girls look pretty in dresses," Draco remarked, reclaiming his seat between the two children. He picked up his water glass and held it up. "I propose a toast - to Hermione and her pioneering primary school. No one would be able to do this better than you." There was a round of "Cheers!" before their orders were placed.
Three hours later, Draco escorted Hermione home. Kit slept in his arms, her face pressed against the side of his neck. He followed Hermione up the stairs to the second door on the left. Three wooden letters, painted pink, purple, and yellow, hung on the door, spelling out the little girl's name. Hermione opened the door and pulled back the blankets on the toddler bed. "Just lay her down gently," Hermione whispered, helping to extricate Draco from the arms of a three year old. Once he was free, he stepped out of the room to give Hermione privacy to dress Kit in her pajamas.
After slipping off her heels, Hermione made her way downstairs. Draco was seated on the sofa, his eyes closed and head resting against the seat back. "I didn't expect you to still be here," she said, sitting at the far end of the couch. "Kit's exhausting, isn't she."
He opened one eye and smiled. "A good kind of exhausting," he replied. "She sure can talk. Speaking of talking, she said something when you went to the loo."
Hermione turned so her back was against the arm of the couch. "What did she say?" she asked.
Leaning forward, Draco rested his elbows on his thighs and ran his hands over his face. "She told me that sometimes the two of you play 'pretend', and she asked if we could play too," he informed her. "It seemed like a harmless game until I asked what we were pretending to be."
Hermione knew what Kit had suggested, but she feared being correct. Since becoming a part of the Grangers' lives, Kit frequently asked when Draco could be her father. It was becoming increasingly harder to convince her that he was just a friend, and there was no guarantee that he would ever be a part of their family. "She said what I think she said, didn't she?" Hermione asked, her voice small and nervous.
"She asked if I could be her father," Draco said, wincing at the pained expression Hermione wore.
She swiveled so her feet were on the floor. Arms wrapped around her middle, Hermione looked down at the beige, worn carpet beneath her feet. "May I ask you something?" From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod slowly. "Are you her father?"