Chapter Twenty-One
From Shadow's Past
Hermione flipped the sign on the door to read, "closed." She assumed that her visitor was what Ron was trying to tell her about. In Ron's view, it would be warning her, but she wasn't afraid. She was stunned, but there was an excitement bubbling in her core.
She returned to the back of the store where a reading area was made. She sat in the chair across from her guest.
Pansy Parkinson daintily sipped her tea, her legs crossed. Like the ugly duckling, she had grown to be pretty, not the pug-faced child she used to be. The hardness and cruelty were gone from her dark brown eyes. They didn't look nearly as black as they were the last time she had seen them so many years ago. Her style was odd and mismatched, gray slacks and a yellow eyelet blouse, but her worn sneakers were dirty. The color may have been white, but they were clearly adopting gray. She was very rich; Hermione silently questioned why she didn't buy a new pair of shoes.
Parkinson grew up with a privileged life. She flaunted it in school much like Draco had. Hermione supposed that was why they gravitated towards one another. The Slytherin girl would have done anything for Draco. She hung on his arm as though he was a prize that she won, and while he adored the attention, he never appeared to care for her the way she did for him. Draco didn't care about many, too focused on his pledge to Voldemort and the danger that held. Parkinson was good for the adoration she gave, but as a person, he didn't have any care.
Hermione noticed it all at from distance between their Houses...
"How have you been, Parkinson," she asked formally.
"No need to ask, I came here with purpose." The china clinked as she sat her cup on its saucer. "It's personal," she informed.
"Um, that is fine..."
"I heard you had a baby."
"That is personal." Just because Parkinson looked tamer didn't mean that she was harmless, and Hermione was still without a wand.
"Just like Hogwarts, news travels quickly. It's Malfoy's, I hear."
She heated scarlet. "Who told you that?"
"I won't divulge my resources."
"Don't believe everything you hear, Parkinson" she said icily, but Parkinson's comfortable demeanor didn't alter and Hermione found that she regretted her defensive position. Kaida was nothing to be ashamed of. She was a miracle, but what did her miracle have anything to do with Parkinson's visit?
"Bad memories," the girl guessed.
"What do you want?"
Her shoulders slumped, her dark eyes dropped. She looked tired, beaten and worn. "I don't want anything. In fact, I want to do something for you."
"What would that be?"
"I dated Draco. I cared for him. We would still be together if he didn't become so absorbed with being a Death Eater!" She scowled to herself.
"I know this."
"What you don't know is that our families have known each other for years. Our mothers were best friends, and my family was left with everything that Draco and his parents owned. It was in the Will. They didn't know about his child, or else it would have gone to it -"
"Her."
She smiled, her lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. "He wanted a daughter... Mentioned it in passing..." She withdrew from her pocket an envelope. "Here."
Skeptically, Hermione took it.
"You can't have the money unless you prove that Kaida is Draco's daughter, but it's obvious that she is, and I don't want to go through the Ministry. That, right there, it's a legal document with my signature. Everything has been handed over to you."
"What?"
"Didn't you hear me, Granger? Draco would want you to have it."
The whole Malfoy fortune... It was too much. "This isn't necessary. We don't need it."
"I don't care what you need. It's not about you or Kaida. It's what Draco would've wanted."
It felt like it weighted a ton for such a slim bit of paper. It was ghastly that in two seconds Hermione had more money than she knew what to do with. Kaida wouldn't ever have to worry. If she wanted, she could go to a muggle university – any one that she wanted. She would never merely get by, but she would have anything and everything that she needed and wanted.
"You didn't have to do this," Hermione breathed.
"But I did. I didn't help the dark side, but I didn't help the light. I did nothing and now, so many are dead."
"Like Draco..."
"It's not my fault that the stupid boy died, thinking he was more powerful than he was - but that money isn't mine. It belonged to a powerful Death Eater family. I didn't do decent thing in my life. This could be a start, honoring Draco's wishes."
She gave in, contemplating all the futures Kaida would have, and she slipped the envelope in her pocket. Then, she was struck with a sudden but appealing thought. "Would you like to see the baby?"
Parkinson's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She may go to any muggle university she desires, thanks to you."
Her eyes narrowed, peeved that wizarding (not to mention pureblood) money would be used to send a half-blood to a muggle administration, surely. "...I'd love to."
"Wonderful," exclaimed, Hermione. "We were going to the park, I'll call to tell them we'll meet them there." She hesitated then, her hand paused over her pocket, thinking of Harry.
Harry accepted Draco and her, he forgave their old professor, Snape, but that was after their deaths. By all appearances it looked as though he'd risen above his prejudice of Slytherins. She had never questioned it, but she did then, and she would find out for certain, because it was going to be put to the test.
"Are you okay, Granger?"
She snapped to attention, nodding. "Yes, thank you." Thoughtfully she touched the screen of her phone. "Harry's going to be there," she told her.
Surprisingly, for a second Parkinson's eyes lit up, but Hermione could have been imagining things.
"Potter," she asked quietly.
"My daughter and I live with him," she explained.
"Ginny Weasley?"
"No – I – Harry - Harry and I - we're friends," she defended, and stuttered quickly, but she bit her tongue once the words were out. Harry didn't want to be just friends. He confessed what he truly wanted, but that didn't make it right. Hermione had made up her mind, but she had yet to tell that to him.
"I'm surprised that they're not married."
Her brows furrowed at that statement. It made no sense. Why did Parkinson care about Ginny? Ginny was nothing to her, she was a blood traitor in her eyes. "They decided it wasn't meant to be." That was as close to the truth as she could come. It was none of her business why they broke up.
"If you don't mind, why do you ask?"
Parkinson fiddled with the hem of her blouse nervously. "I'm... Sorry. For hating you. After the war it all seemed stupid, hating a House because we thought we should. Blood statuses, ranks, and race - it's all idiocy." Her feet turned in, her knee bobbing like a tick. "You and Draco were good together. I'd never seen him that happy before. It was plain something was up. He lost his swagger, his ego... I never knew why, he wouldn't talk to me. I didn't seem to matter to him anymore - and that hurt, but... It hurt more that I didn't know anything. It wasn't until I saw the news of your baby in the Daily Prophet. I overheard someone say that they didn't know who the father was, that the baby looked a lot like a Malfoy, but couldn't be. I couldn't help but think... Maybe... I thought he always fancied you."
"I liked him too."
"I know. Must've have liked him a lot. You two risked everything."
"I'm sorry."
Parkinson narrowed her eyes. "Why are you sorry?"
Hermione looked down, unable to lie straight to her face. She couldn't tell her the real reason she was sorry, that she killed Draco. "I'm sorry that he's gone."
"Granger, do you think... If you'd like... I want to start over. We're not in school together. No one is around to tell us that we can't be friends."
"You want to be my friend?"
"Draco loved you." That was answer enough.
"Then call me Hermione."
That was it. From then on, Pansy would be a friend. It was a friend that would lighten her heart, for it was almost like another piece of Draco. Kaida would have someone other than her mother to tell her fond stories of her father. Surely as the Chuddly Canons losing every match, everyone already in her life would regal her with horrid tales of hatred and the mark on his arm.
Kaida would needed reassuring that her father was good. And he was good, in the end.
Children's laughter carried over the quaint park, a park nestled in the countryside. The children chased and played among the swing set and sandbox. Colorful toys peeped out of the grass and sand, the swing creaked.
The square area was outlined with benches where bushed mothers sat with their books and magazines. Harry sat further outside on a quilted blanket where Kaida laid on her stomach. Her head was raised taking in the pastures with wonder and excitement, her bright blue eyes round orbs.
Harry looked up as they approached and smiled, but it faltered as he saw who Hermione was accompanied by. "Parkinson," he greeted, standing.
"Potter," she responded strongly.
"How are you?"
"Fair. You?"
"Well."
Hermione picked Kaida up, kissing the top of her head, ignoring the odd exchange. She would gather information about it later. "Pansy, this is Kaida."
Pansy beamed at the child. "Oh, she's lovely, Hermione. She has Draco's color."
"Yes, it's too bad that she has my hair."
She laughed, "that is a shame, but there's no mistaking it, she's your child. He'd be so proud..."
"Would you like to hold her?"
She appeared uncertain, but held out her arms all the same. Kaida was set in them, reaching for Pansy's straight black hair.
"Kaida," Hermione addressed her baby, "this is Pansy. She's a friend."
Pansy's thin lips became the straight line they tended to be set in. She blinked rapidly speaking to Kaida. "I knew your father. He was a good man..." She swallowed caressing Kaida's small hand, feeling her fingers. "You're beautiful. He'd be so proud, loving you spoiled. I'm going to tell you loads of secrets of his."
Although Kaida was too young to understand the words that Pansy was speaking, Pansy spoke anyway. She told her of the mischief Draco caused when he was younger. One in particular that had them in stitches.
Apparently, when Draco was five-years-old he received a broom for his birthday. He was excited, running into the yard and mounting it, but it shot out from under him, and he landed on his behind, crying out a storm.
Harry, grinning like a Cheshire cat pulled a wicker basket to them, setting out the lunch he had fixed. He shared half of his with Pansy, and she ate with the refinement of her class, but also like a starving woman. Her bites were too quick, and Hermione observed her more closely. Since Hogwarts she looked considerably thinner.
Like magnets Hermione's eyes met with Harry's. He was just as curious as she was.
"Pansy, you haven't told us, what do you do?"
The biscuit she picked out of the basket was set on her knee. "There's nothing I could hide from the all famous, nosy, Harry Potter," she sighed heavily. "I didn't want you two to know."
They waited for her to continue, Kaida giggling as she played with a pink and white rattler that Hermione held over her head. Harry didn't take his gaze off of Pansy.
A simple act as it was, it was surreal the way he watched her. He met most Slytherins in the same tone of contemptuous, indifference. There were few Slytherns that he cared for, but Pansy was one of those few, at least she was then.
"My parents weren't Death Eaters," She said in a hushed tone. "They were at the battle anyway. They... Didn't survive."
Harry nodded. "I heard. I'm sorry."
"They were the only family I had... We were rich, you know, but while the dark Lord had Mr. Malfoy's wand and lived in his home he took our money. Every knut. We were left with nothing, relying on him. When they were killed... Who would give me a chance? No daughter of Dark Arts supporters, former girlfriend of a Death Eater... I hated Muggles. It was confusing, to know I shouldn't - and didn't have to. Draco didn't, obviously. It wasn't easy, changing your conditioning. Impossible, some would say... But Draco did it."
Harry glowed, albeit subdued. "You did," he pointed out.
She smiled, although it was more of a grimace, and she looked startling like the cruel girl she was in school. "I did, and now I'm homeless. I don't have a job. No money."
"You can live with us," he offered without a second delay, then worriedly at Hermione.
"Yes," she agreed, "you're more than welcome."
"What?"
"We live at 12 Grimmauld," Harry said. "There's loads of room. I can find you a position in the Ministry."
Like smoke out of a dragon's snout, she steamed. "You're not the only one with pride, Potter."
"You need help -"
"I don't need yours," she snapped, standing roughly to her feet, the biscuit falling to the blanket. "You think because you murdered the Dark Lord, you can save everyone. Here's a Prophet headline for you, Chosen One: You can't." She spun on her heels and stormed away.
Harry sat frozen in shock, but Hermione could only give a defeated sigh. While Pansy had learned from her "worship" of Draco, he had died, and who was she left with to follow? Pansy wasn't a leader nor did she have one. She was lost and scared. For someone that fell out of the fate-given luxury, it was not shocking.
"She's upset at her situation, not at you," Hermione told him.
"What do I do?"
"Let her go." She hoped she would come back. If she didn't, Hermione would look for her. She wouldn't lose a connection to Draco when it was in her grasp.
Pansy's retreating form became diminutive until was out of their sight. Kaida began crying and Hermione lied her against her chest, still focused on the barn's shadow from which her unexpected and new-found friend disappeared.