Chapter 20
There was an incessant knock on the bedroom door, but Hermione refused to unlock it in case Draco stood on the other side. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her head in the pillow. It smelled like Draco. With a frustrated groan, she tossed the pillow across the room. They had arrived home from Hogwarts hours earlier, and Hermione immediately locked herself in their bedroom.

The knock came again, this time followed by a pleading little voice. "Mummy? May I come in?" It was Demi.

"Please, Mummy?" This time it was Emmy. With a wave of her wand, the door unlocked and the two little girls entered. They joined her on the bed, cuddling into either side of their mother. Hermione softly fingered Demi's soft brown curls as they lay silently.

"Mummy, where did Daddy go?" Demi wondered.

Hermione's eyes widened. She tried not to let her expression bely her shock, but found it to be a difficult task.

"He said he was going for a walk," Emmy told her in a stoic tone reminiscent of her own. "But it's dark now, and he still isn't back. Is he mad about something?"

Hermione sighed. He was mad, and she knew exactly the reason. Part of the reason most likely had to do with her walking away from him and Apparating home alone. "It's nothing you have to worry about," she told them. "Did Mum Mum feed you dinner?"

"Gnome stew," Demi told her excitedly.

Hermione wrinkled her brow. "She fed you gnomes?"

Emmy rolled her eyes. "Gigi told us it was gnomes, but Pop Pop said it was just chicken," she explained.

"Okay, good, then please put on your pajamas. I'll be in in a minute to tuck you in," Hermione instructed.

The older girl climbed off the bed, but Demi lingered. "Can't I sleep in your bed tonight?" she asked, flashing her big gray eyes that reminded Hermione of Draco's. Hermione shook her head and picked the little girl up, carrying her to her room. "But, Mummy, I want to see Daddy when he gets home," she complained as Hermione began to dress her for bed.

"I'll send him in to see you when he gets back," Hermione replied, feeling her patience fade. When Demi was in her pajamas, Hermione sent her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Emmy returned just as Demi left the room. She climbed into her bed and waited for her mother's attention.

"He is coming back, right?" she asked, as Hermione pulled the covers around her. Her voice was soft and small, none of the usual strength she possessed in it.

Hermione smiled softly. "Of course he is. You know Daddy could never bear to be away from you and your sister."

"But what if he leaves like Gemmy's real Mum and Dad?" Emmy wondered, her small mouth bending downwards.

"How do you know about that?" Hermione inquired, hands on her hips as she glared at her.

Emmy rolled onto her side and pulled a small box out from underneath her bed. She handed the box to Hermione who immediately opened it to flip through its contents. Inside were pictures that Gemma had been given of Pansy and a letter she had written to her only child.

"Where did you get these?" Hermione demanded, closing the lid.

"Gem said she didn't want to take them to school with her, so she asked me to hold onto them for her," Emmy replied. "Are you mad?"

Hermione shook her head and placed the box back under the bed. "No, I think it's nice that Gemma trusted you with her things. Now sleep, my love." She placed a kiss on Emmy's forehead and moved over to give Demi the same treatment. Turning off the light, she headed downstairs. Her book was still on the coffee table, and she decided to read until Draco walked in through the door. Instead, she fell asleep, the book falling to the floor discarded.

It was well past midnight when Draco came home, a bottle of the best firewhiskey in his hand, half drunk. In his inebriated state, he wondered why the living room lights were still on. He wandered in, planning only to extinguish the lights and the fire that still burned in the hearth, when he spotted his wife peacefully sleeping on the sofa. Carefully, he shook her shoulder to wake her.

"Hey," he whispered when her eyes fluttered open.

"Hi," she replied sleepily, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Then she slapped him.

Draco cradled his cheek, his mouth open from the shock and pain of it. "What the hell was that for?"

"You left," she hissed. She sniffed at the air around them and added, "And you're drunk. I didn't even know you were gone until the girls told me. Emmy asked me if you were ever coming back. Do you know how hard a question that was to answer? I didn't know if you were coming home or if you were even okay."

He pulled his hand away from his cheek to reveal a very red handprint marring the skin. He looked down shamefully.

"Are you going to say something to me?" she demanded, getting angrier with each second of silence that passed between them.

"I hate when you hit me," he responded through clenched teeth. "I hated it third year and I hate it now."

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione pushed her way past him and climbed the stairs, her feet stomping angrily as she made her way up. He followed behind at a safe distance, unaware that she was unarmed. Before she could slam and lock the door, he caught it as it came closer. Stepping into their bedroom, he watched as she tore back the blankets and undressed. Then, when she was in her pajamas, she sat down on her side of the bed and let her face fall into her hands. When her shoulders started to shake, Draco could think of nothing but comforting her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His arm wound around her shoulders as he pulled her willing form into his side. She fisted his shirt, knotting it in her hand.

"We're going to lose her," she sobbed, her tears soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Blaise ambled into the Great Hall noticing only Gemma seated at the Gryffindor table. He took a seat beside her and smiled kindly at her.

"You missed my parents yesterday," she said without looking away from her Charms text. "Honestly, I'm a bit surprised you aren't more bruised right now."

Her professor chuckled mirthlessly. He knew he was lucky to have avoided Draco the day before. Having been on the receiving end of Draco's hexes before, he knew it was a place he never wanted to be again. Instead of ruminating on thoughts of his former friend, he decided to change the subject.

"You know you look a lot like your mother," he told her, his words and tone sincere.

"I don't see it," she mumbled, lifting her goblet of pumpkin juice to her lips. When she set it back down she finally turned to look at him. "In fact, I rather think I look more like my father."

A proud smile lit his face. There were certain similairites between him and the little Gryffindor. She had his curly hair, his dark eyes, the soft glow of olive-hued skin. Even her personality bore some likeness to his own. She was stubborn, and despite having been raised by Granger, there was a haughtiness to the way she spoke sometimes.

"Hmm, yes I do see it too," he agreed. "But you have Pansy's smile and her laugh. She had a very sweet laugh."

Gemma closed her book and set it down beside her. "It seems unfair that you all got to know her and I didn't," she confided sadly. "Why didn't she leave me with you before she died?"

Blaise replied with a small shrug. "This isn't quite the time for this conversation," he told her, gesturing with his chin to the students who began to file in for breakfast.

She nodded her understanding and reopened her book. "Professor?" he asked before he walked too far away. He turned to direct his attention to her once more. "I know the holidays are still a bit far off, but could I stay with you instead of going home?"

He sighed, feeling uneasy about her request. "If your parents agree to it, then yes. But their decision comes first and is final."