A/N: Thanks for the continued support, everybody. :)
Disclaimer: I have yet to own anything.
"She doesn't hate me, right?" Hermione whispered up to Draco.
"Would you stop? You're making me feel anxious," he sighed, attempting to inject a soothing tone into his voice. "But no, she's doesn't hate you… so cease your baseless fretting, woman."
"Okay, okay," she murmured, pulse quickening at the sound of high heels walking their way.
Hermione reminded herself to breathe just as the door swung open.
"So good to see you two, do come in," Mrs. Malfoy smiled pleasantly at them, stepping aside to let them in.
Well, at least she didn't ignore my presence.
Hermione felt Draco's warm hand engulf hers and give it a brief squeeze before leading both of them inside.
Mrs. Malfoy closed the door behind them and lead them to the coziest parlor Hermione had ever set eyes on; it was both feminine and elegant, the very qualities that its owner possessed.
Draco sat down on the chair closest to the one Mrs. Malfoy sat down in and gently tugged at her hand, throwing her a quick look before turning to his mother. Hermione felt herself blush and sat down hastily, clutching his hand as though it were a lifeline.
"It's so good to see you again my son. Dour circumstances aside," she added as an afterthought. "I'm glad you brought Ms. Granger with you."
Hermione cleared her throat and offered Mrs. Malfoy a tentative smile.
"Please, do call me Hermione."
Mrs. Malfoy nodded majestically and gave her a reassuring smile of her own.
"When did you find out?" Draco asked quietly, staring intently at his mother.
Looks like Draco isn't in the mood for pleasantries. Not that I can blame him, of course.
"Not long after. First I received an owl from Azkaban and soon after and owl from Kingsley Shacklebolt offering me his condolences."
"Did you cry? Are you sad?" he queried, voice softer still.
Mrs. Malfoy gave Draco a serene smile although sadness seemed to dull her deep blue eyes.
"It would have been an impossible feat not to do either, my dear. He was, after all, my husband for 23 years. Not to mention those years we knew each other in school."
"He doesn't deserve your grief, Mother," he told her bitterly, pressing his lips into a thin line.
"Draco," she chastised. "He may not have been a very good man, but he was always a very good husband."
"You were probably the only person he ever loved. Aside from himself, that is," Draco snorted, rolling his eyes.
Mrs. Malfoy assessed Draco quietly, tilting her head slightly as her bright eyes watched him.
"Are you sad, Draco? Did you cry? He was your father, after all."
He scoffed and gave his head a brief shake as Hermione pushed away the memory of watching him crumble before her. It'd definitely been terribly distressing to witness Draco's normally cool facade evaporate. He'd fallen to his knees, gripping his hair tightly with his eyes shut tightly as though to keep himself from crying. His emotions seemed to win out because he let out a sob, tears streaming down his pallid cheeks. His face was etched with such heart-wrenching pain that Hermione had felt utterly useless standing right there next to him. Still, she'd had enough sense to lock the doors and cast a silencing charm on the office as to allot Draco some sort of privacy to grieve.
Once he'd stopped sobbing, the shudders and tears came to a stop and his office had been much too quiet, with Draco regaining his nonchalant expression. He'd avoided eye contact with Hermione until she reached out and took his hand in hers. He'd frozen and Hermione simply gave his hand a squeeze, knowing there were no words that could soothe Draco, no matter the contempt he'd held for his father in the past few years. He'd simply swallowed thickly and peered at Hermione in an almost shy demeanor before nodding, squeezing her hand in return and moving on with his day as though he hadn't received news of his father's death.
She looked away from Mrs. Malfoy, just in case his mother decided to try to read her expression. She used to be awful at schooling her visage when she was in school but upon spending so much time with Draco, Hermione had learned how to look unaffected by mimicking him; she knew he'd take the mickey if he were ever to find out, but she makes of it a nightly practice to stand before her mirror in the bathroom, effecting the looks she'd preserved to her memory. Even so, Draco seemed more open to her than ever compared to before when there were times when he'd resort to putting on his mask of indifference. His eyes, however, were a completely different story. She could gauge what he was feeling just by looking into them and wondered whether he knew they held the power in giving his true emotions away.
"He may have been my father in a monetary sense but aside from that was a complete failure at being my father. Not only did he poison my mind with bigotry, he also let me be the Bella's chew toy back at the Manor."
A stricken expression appeared on Mrs. Malfoy's beautiful face.
"I'm afraid he wasn't the only one who neglected you, though."
The sneer on Draco's face dissolved into a look of surprise which shifted to a grim smile.
"But at least you changed before it was too late," he protested, squeezing Hermione's hand unthinkingly.
Ouch! He's really much stronger than he gives himself credit for.
Hermione felt awkward, sitting there quietly and listening to mother and son quibble.
Did he really need to bring me? Not that I mind, of course. But it just seems like something that ought to be discussed in private.
"I didn't want to lose you, son," she told him simply.
"He obviously didn't share the sentiment," Draco said stiffly, straightening his posture.
"Of course he cared, Draco. You were his son and only heir. I don't think you know this, but a few months after you were born I wanted to try to have a another child. His reply was more than enough for me."
"What did he reply?" he asked her hesitantly, his grip increasing on Hermione's hand.
"He said this: Why have a another when we already have everything we want? This little Malfoy will have the brightest future yet."
Hermione felt shocked at the revelation and glanced at Draco from the corner of her eye. Needless to say, his mouth had gone slack and stared at his mother as though she'd grown an extra head.
"I don't believe it," he finally murmured, having regained control of his emotions.
"Believe it, my son. Lucius was a surprisingly devoted father when you were a newborn. Oh, how he'd fuss over you! He had the nerve to tell me I wasn't doing things correctly... I think I'd know more about changing nappies —don't look so surprised, Draco, of course I did it myself— than he ever would," she grumbled although she wore a wistful smile on her face. "Things changed after… well, after Voldemort returned. His mind became so warped and things... well, they weren't the same again. He became withdrawn and sullen. Bitter, even."
"I can't picture him as a doting father," he laughed cynically.
"You don't understand your father, Draco. You may have tolerated him but you never really took the time to get to know him. He was born in an era where the things he learned would be deemed as archaic nowadays. As a matter of fact, what he taught you wasn't very modern but it was what he knew."
"I know, I know…" he mumbled, rolling his eyes yet again. "Purebloods are the best, down with the Muggleborns blah blah blah."
Mrs. Malfoy smirked at her son and Hermione found the resemblance to the smirk she was used to uncanny.
So that's who he gets it from.
Mrs. Malfoy composed herself and pointed her wand at the porcelain teapot sitting in the middle of the table.
"Tea?"
"Yes, please," Draco and Hermione answered simultaneously.
They gave each other a little smile before turning back to Mrs. Malfoy. She handed them each a teacup and gestured to help themselves with the cream and sugar. Hermione reached for the cream and was about to ask Draco how he liked his when she saw him staring pensively into the liquid that filled his teacup.
"I may not have known him very well, but I certainly idolized him. Everything he was, everything he did… I wanted to be it too. I wanted him to be proud of me and all he did was instill a maddening, crippling hatred into my heart and mind. The only way I felt like I could make him proud was to be the malicious, elitist brat he taught me to be," he chuckled humorlessly.
Hermione felt her heart grip with sadness as she watched Draco observe his reflection impassively.
"Only proud of me when I put down Saint Potter and the Weasel, when I spewed vitriol at Hermione. I may not have lived in the library like her but I always got perfect scores. But it was never good enough for Lucius," he whispered hoarsely. "It was either being at the top or I'd be nothing. Since I was nothing in his eyes, I singlehandedly brought shame to the Malfoy name."
Hermione bit her lip, reaching her hand and resting it gently atop Draco's thigh.
"Purebloods aren't taught to love, Draco," she sighed sorrowfully. "We're taught how to be proud."
Draco snorted and rolled his eyes once again. His mother merely watched him with a stern expression on her face.
"You do know he loved you, Draco? In his own way, of course. He was never an overly sentimental man, your father… but don't you ever think that he didn't love you."
"A shallow love, no doubt," he mumbled, taking a drink of his tea.
Hermione trained her eyes on Mrs. Malfoy's face. Her lips were pursed tightly while her eyes watched Draco with something akin to remorse. The deep blue color of her eyes reminded her of the flecks reflected in her own son's mercurial grey eyes; Hermione recalled noticing them despite being in a teary daze the day of the almost wedding.
She felt herself blush and looked away when Mrs. Malfoy turned to her, a kind and curious smile curling at the corners of her lips.
"I certainly can't force you to believe me, Draco," she told him curtly. "But I do hope that you understand that he taught you to be those things because it was the only way he felt that he could be close to you."
Draco didn't reply nor did he roll his eyes, he simply watched his mother.
It's sick and twisted, but it makes sense.
Both heads of blonde hair suddenly turned to look at her and Hermione realized that she'd spoken out loud.
"Erm, I'm sorry. It's not my place to judge," she apologized with a murmur, blushing beet red.
"It's quite alright, dear. I've heard much worse," Mrs. Malfoy chuckled wearily.
Shame coursed through Hermione's veins and forced herself to look down at her lap.
There were many times when Harry and Ron called him a 'foul, evil git' and many more colorful expressions… and how many of those times did I stop them? None. My silence only encouraged them further.
"There are times when we truly believe that the end will justify the means," she spoke quietly, still staring at her lap.
Once again, she could feel both mother and son stare at her and Hermione heaved a sigh, trying to pluck her Gryffindor courage to speak of what she'd never spoken of before.
My dirty little secret.
"For example, right before I left with Harry and Ron to hunt for horcruxes, I Obliviated my parents. I changed their identity so they could believe they were an entirely different childless couple who wanted nothing more to pursue their lifelong dream of moving to Australia."
She heard Draco take a sharp intake of air while Mrs. Malfoy gasped.
"Did you… have you gone back for them?" he asked her quietly, hesitantly as though dreading her answer.
"No," she shook her head, vision gone blurry.
"But why—"
Now's not the time, don't break down... there'll be plenty of time later to explain to him.
"So while I can certainly understand why Mr. Malfoy did what he did, it doesn't excuse it just because he thought it was the right thing to do. The very same could be said for me. Even so, if I had to do it again I wouldn't change a thing," she shuddered, blinking madly to stop the tears from falling.
He's already seen me fall apart at the seams once and goodness knows what he thought of that. I won't cry again. I won't cry again. I won't…
"You're too brilliant for your own good," Draco whispered, gently taking the teacup from her hands and grasping hers in his own.
"I wasn't called the 'brightest witch of her age' for nothing, you know," she said, lifting a corner of her lips and looking up at him.
He was watching her with the utmost respect and tenderness that it almost made Hermione tear up again.
"A title well-deserved," Mrs. Malfoy smiled gently, nodding elegantly.
She looked towards the Malfoy matriarch and stared at her, watching the sympathy in her eyes and the concern splayed out in her lovely face. Mrs. Malfoy then gave her the brightest, most affectionate smile she'd ever seen on the woman's face and Hermione found herself returning it.
She felt Draco squeeze her hand and Hermione reveled at the touch. They didn't touch very often but every time they did, she could practically feel her heart threaten to jump out through her throat. His touch was always warm and comforting, something she'd never expected in a billion years from Draco Malfoy; she remembered thinking that touching him would probably be like grabbing something slimy and cold. She looked down at his hands cradling her own and observed how his pale, slim fingers managed to look so graceful.
I bet he'd be a wonderful pianist.
"Are you alright?" he whispered, squeezing her hands again.
She looked up into his face and saw him watching her in an earnestly concerned manner. His eyes shimmered, looking darker and stormier than their usual silver.
"Yes, yes… I'm fine. I'm sorry," she murmured, feeling her cheeks redden.
"There's nothing for you to be sorry about," he whispered fervently to her, leaning closer.
His warm breath caressed her cheek and Hermione felt her cheeks burn brighter. Draco's eyes smoldered, never once looking away from hers.
He's so… striking. Enigmatic. If only people took the time to know the real Draco Malfoy…
Hermione felt herself get lost in his eyes, mesmerized by the deep blue flecks in them; a part of her began to feel breathless, like they in their own personal bubble...
"Ahem."
They both looked away from each other immediately, as though released from a trance. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye and noticed the slight pink tinge coloring his cheeks. She smiled and looked at Mrs. Malfoy, who was smirking at them.
"So for how long have you two been…" she trailed off, unsure yet curious of just what was going on between her son and Hermione.
"Since my wedding," Hermione blurted and then cringed, realizing just how awful it sounded said aloud.
"Oh?" a sly sparkle shone in Mrs. Malfoy's eyes.
"Er… I mean… it's not what it sounds like," she chuckled nervously, glancing at Draco from the corner of her eye.
Mrs. Malfoy merely took a dainty sip of tea, watching Hermione with great interest.
"I may not live in Britain anymore but that doesn't mean that I wasn't aware the wedding of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger had been called off. I may not receive the Prophet anymore (and haven't for years) but that doesn't mean that your split didn't go public. In fact, there was a lot of speculation about it and it certainly didn't help that neither of you spoke about it to the press."
"Mother," Draco chastised, glaring at her.
"What? I'm simply curious," she smiled innocently at her son.
He simply glowered at her but squeezed Hermione's hands protectively.
"I called it off when he snuck in to see me and proceeded to tell me that although he loved me he proposed because he felt jealous of Draco. Your son had been working with me for about half a year and Ron didn't like how close we had become. But it would have been impossible not to, especially with the hours we had," Hermione sighed.
Mrs. Malfoy looked appalled, her pale face looking whiter than usual.
"That's low," she murmured, shaking her head indignantly.
"The worst of it was probably the fact that he himself admitted that had we… he waited a while longer, everything might have turned out fine," Hermione spoke harshly, surprised at the bitterness of her voice.
Mrs. Malfoy gasped, eyes widening to the size of galleons.
"That's despicable."
"I thought so too," Hermione smiled wryly.
"So are you and my son dating now?"
"Mother!"
"No. Er, not officially yet. We haven't been out on a date," Hermione blushed.
"Draco, I thought I'd taught you better than that," Mrs. Malfoy scolded her son.
"I… she… didn't want to overwhelm her, is all," he murmured petulantly, releasing Hermione's hands and crossing his arms over his chest.
"There's no time like the present," she chirped enthusiastically, lightly clapping her hands together.
Draco glared daggers at his mother and Hermione stifled a giggle.
"Thank you for coming by, son. It really means a lot to me," she told him softly.
Hermione watched as Draco's expression softened before it became impassive.
"You're my mother, it would have been wrong of me not to. Especially at a time like this," he murmured, sighing heavily.
"I appreciate it nevertheless, Draco."
"You're right… he may have been an unfeeling, selfish swine but he was still my father," he admitted grudgingly. "You may have carried me for nine months but I came from his—"
"That's quite enough," Mrs. Malfoy told him sharply, unable to keep a horrified look from forming on her face.
Draco smirked and stared at his mother, his love for her as obvious as the sun.
"I love you, Mother."
"I love you too, Draco," she smiled beatifically. "You treat Hermione well, you hear?"
Hermione felt her face redden and looked down, feeling shy.
"There's no other way," he told his mother softly, reaching out to grab Hermione's hand.
"Good."
"We'll be off now."
Mrs. Malfoy and Draco rose at the same time and Hermione hastily climbed to her feet.
"Don't wait too long for your next visit. I do get lonely sometimes, you know."
"Sure, Mother. I'm sure there's no boutique that can satiate your loneliness," he drawled.
"Draco!" Hermione hissed, tugging on his hand.
He turned to her, a smirk in place while Mrs. Malfoy merely looked amused.
"It's all right, dear. Maybe Lucius and I shouldn't have spoiled him so much as a child and should have reinforced punishment when he behaved like a brat," she sniffed delicately.
Draco rolled his eyes but couldn't seem to stop the grin that bloomed on his face. Mrs. Malfoy, in turn, looked thoroughly amused.
"It was so nice to meet you, my dearest. I do hope you'll come with him next time, there's only so much cheek a mother can take."
Draco snorted as they all walked to the door.
"It would be a pleasure, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione answered honestly.
She waved her hand airily and said, "Please, call me Narcissa."
Hermione beamed at Draco's mother and nodded.
"Apparate safely, you two."
"We shall," Draco told her, leaning to kiss his mother's cheeks.
He stepped aside to let Hermione do the same but was caught off-guard when Narcissa threw her arms around her, enveloping her in a hug. Hermione blushed with pleasure and hugged her back; they parted and gave each other shy smiles.
Hermione felt Draco grab her hand once more and gently pull her from the doorway as Narcissa watched them walk to the designated Apparition spot. With a wave of the wand and a pop, they were soon gone.
Back at her flat, Hermione and Draco lingered at her doorway.
"Thank you for asking me to go with you, Draco," she told him softly.
He quirked a smile at her and shook his head to indicate it was nothing.
Oh, Godric… how am I going to do this? What if he turns me down? No, don't be silly, Hermione. He likes you and wouldn't turn you down… but how much longer would I have to wait for him to make a move if I don't? Besides, we're in the 21st century and women have just as much right to ask men out as men do.
"Well… goodnight, Hermione," he breathed, looking into her eyes.
She felt tiny shivers dance all the way from her spine to her toes and nodded dumbly.
"You too. Sleep well," she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his cheek.
His cheek is impossibly soft and as smooth as marble… I wonder if every other part of him feels the same.
She pulled away and watched in fascination how his eyes shifted into a smoldering charcoal, pupils threatening to swallow his iris. He sighed ever so softly and stared at her for a second longer before turning away.
Now or never, Granger! Are you a bloody Gryffindor or not?
"Draco, wait!" she called out.
He stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel, curious.
She sucked in a quick breath and felt her face flame up.
"Do you… would you like to go out on a date with me?" she asked, forcing herself to enunciate her words.
His face was blank for a moment but soon looked startled as he must have felt.
"Yes."
She grinned at him and clapped her hands lightly.
"Great. I'll owl you tomorrow, then. Night!"
She unlocked her door and stepped through it, practically melting on the floor.
He said yes! He said yes! Wait, maybe I shouldn't have closed the door on his face…
Hermione bit her lip with worry.
No, I'm sure he needed to recover. He looked absolutely gobsmacked!
She practically ran to her room and giggled like a schoolgirl.
"I have a date with Draco Malfoy!" she sang giddily, collapsing on her bed and hugging one of her pillows to her chest.
As always, thank you for taking the time to read.