Wednesday Evening
Chapter 21 –The one where Hermione tells Draco some bad news and he huffs and puffs and threatens to tear the mother – effing house down
Lo, in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still.
Sonnet 7 – Shakespeare
Draco placed his daughter in a warm bath in the en suite bathroom off his bedroom. Leaving a small female elf to watch over her even as he left the door open so he could hear her from the outer room, he went over to the opened double doors leading to the balcony and looked out at the dark evening sky.
"Hello," Hermione said from a chair near the outer doors.
He smiled down at her. She was sitting in the chair where he had sat a few times since coming here. It was beginning to feel like 'their' chair. "Are you hiding out there?"
"I might be," she admitted, "and who would blame me if I were? The entire household is in an uproar, I fear. You're already aware of Pansy leaving, I'm sure, but your mother told all of us that she saw Lucius take off with her."
Draco laughed. "She doesn't know whom she's dealing with now. Well, good for dear old Father."
Nodding, Hermione said, "True. Ron hasn't left yet, but he's packing his things as we speak. Astoria invited Roger to stay for the rest of the week, oddly enough, and Harry and Susan are hiding somewhere, who knows where, for Ron and I were both searching for them and can't locate them."
Draco leaned back toward the room, looked into the bathroom, then leaned back against the doorjamb. "And Weaselette and Flint? Where are they?"
Hermione made a face that looked as though she was eating something distasteful, making Draco laugh. "They're being all lovey-dovey in the sitting room. It's a bit disgusting really."
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you suppose people think we're disgusting when we're lovey-dovey?" Arching one eyebrow, he waited for her reply.
"We've never been 'lovey-dovey' in front of anyone, so I rather doubt it," she supplied. "If someone had come into that room when we'd forgotten to lock the door it's hard to tell what they would have thought. Don't you want to know where Rose and Scorpius have gone?"
Satisfying her need to tell him, even though he already knew, he asked, "Where are the kids?"
"Rose and Scorpius went up to the attic, full of glee and vigor, saying something about a surprise for us for our wedding."
"Well alright son and son's new little girlfriend," Draco said, pleased. He held up one finger. "I'll be right back." He walked back toward the bathroom, found Fiona happily splashing in the bathwater, and he told the little elf who was minding her, "Watch her closely while I go out to the balcony, won't you?" He didn't wait for a response.
Once on the balcony, he closed the door behind him, and walked to the chair where Hermione was sitting. Pulling her up by her arms, he replaced her bum with his, and then pulled her onto his lap. "I have a feeling there's something more you want to say to me, little lion."
"There is," she admitted. "How is that you already know me so well?" Hermione turned in his arms and then placed her head on his shoulder.
"You aren't going to like my answer," he said glibly. She looked up from his shoulder and waited. With a smile, Draco said, "It's because, whether or not you want to believe it, you and I are grossly similar. We're a match made in heaven, so to speak… if one believes in such a place."
She laughed, patted his chest and said, "Poor delusional Draco. He thinks we're alike, when really, in his words, we're grossly opposite."
He frowned. "Perhaps you're right, for I would never talk TO you ABOUT you." He shivered in fake disgust. "It's second person speaking for me all the way, and once in a while, first person is preferable." Now she looked at him with disdain. "All I meant by the statement 'grossly alike'," he clarified, "was that we want similar things, think similar things, and like similar things. Therefore, I know when something's bothering you."
She nodded. "After your mother told us about seeing Lucius leaving with Pansy, she asked to speak to me privately. It was right after you brought Fiona upstairs. She took me to their room, showed me an interesting document," she pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket, "but not before she told me that Lucius asked Ginny Weasley to break up Astoria and Ron anyway she could."
"What?" Draco looked perplexed. "I knew he seemed pleased when I mentioned I was bringing the red banshee with me this week, but I only assumed that was because he thought there might be something between us. I never assumed it would be for other reasons… such as breaking up Ron and Astoria."
"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione moved from his lap to stand so she could peer out at the darkening sky. "You know he would never want to align his family with the Weasleys, and your mother confirmed that. She said that he wants you to remarry Astoria. He wants nothing but a pureblood for your spouse and for a mother to Fiona."
"That merely conjecture," he assured her, coming to stand beside her. "Did my mother really tell you this, or are you reading more into it?"
She nodded once more. Turning to face him, she said, "It's hard to read more into this contract she showed me, Malfoy. I took a few business and contractual law classes at Uni. I can tell what it means." Hermione held up the piece of paper, waved it under his nose, and said, "When Mr. Parkinson became ill, he was afraid he might die, and if he died, he didn't want his daughter, Pansy, to get her clutches back into that little girl, especially as he and Mrs. Parkinson had been raising her since infanthood. So he contacted your father and signed over custody of Fiona to your parents, but with one caveat. One condition. It was that they, meaning your parents, would keep her unless you remarried."
"Great, wonderful," he said with a frown, knowing her well enough to realize that wasn't the happy news it sounded like. "I'm marrying you in two days, this coming Friday, so there's no problem. I had a feeling there was something to that extent in the custody contract my father signed, or else he wouldn't have continued to insist I marry before I had full custody."
Hermione raked her hand through her hair. "No, that's not the full extent of it." She went back to sit in the chair by his door. "Your mother said that the only way the Parkinson's signed over custody, was if your father agreed that unless you marry a pureblood – a pureblood, Draco – then they, meaning your parents, would keep Fiona and raise her. It seems that was their only condition, and your father and mother both signed the contract, and it's completely binding."
Draco grabbed the document from her hand. "What?" Draco moved toward the door and opened it sharply. Reading the contract in the brighter light of his bedroom, he sunk down on the bed, balled it in his fist, and looked up to Hermione. "How could this be legal?"
Scratching her jaw, she sat down beside him and took his hand. Instead of answer his bewildered questions, she said, "It seems there'll be no wedding between us in two days. If you want custody of Fiona, you'll have to marry someone else."
He stood from the bed so suddenly that Hermione almost fell off it. "That's absurd!"
"Not it you want to keep your daughter, which I know you do. I won't have you making some King Solomon type decision regarding this, Malfoy. I won't make you pick her or me, because I want you to pick her."
Just then, before they could discuss it further, Fiona came running out of the bedroom, her blonde hair wet and knotted, a little white nightgown over her body. "Time to read before bed, Daddy." The elf slipped out of the bedroom, Draco scooped Fiona into his arms. He threw her on the bed, smiling when she squealed loudly.
Hermione started to leave after the elf, but Draco said, "Not so fast, Hermione. You heard Fiona. She wants a story." He moved Fiona to the middle of the bed, sat down on one side of her, his long legs crossed at the ankles, and patted the empty space on the other side of his daughter. "Sit. I'll comb her hair, you read the story. Her book is on the bedside table."
Hermione sat down on the opposite side of the little girl, even as Fiona scooted around so her back was to her father. While Draco carefully began to comb sections of his daughter's hair, Hermione opened the book, but didn't read. Instead, she handed the book to Draco and said, "Let me comb her hair. You read." She realized it may be the only time she would ever get to do such an intimate and sweet thing to the little girl, and she wanted to imprint the moment in her brain for all time.
Understanding, Fiona moved so her back was to Hermione, Draco placed the comb in Hermione's hand, and picked up the book. While Hermione began to untangle the girl's hair, Draco began to read… but not really.
Opening the book, he turned it toward Fiona so she could see the pictures. "Once upon a time there were three little pigs." The picture showed a drawing of three pigs all dressed in clothing.
"The three pigs were all wizards, but just because they were wizards, didn't mean they were the same," he continued.
Frowning, Hermione leaned toward the book to see the words (knowing full well it didn't say they were all wizards) but he snapped it shut quickly, almost catching her nose in the pages. She leaned back with a look of suspicion on her face, and he opened the book back to 'read'.
"The first little pig was a homely, ginger-haired pig. His name was Ron."
Fiona, who had moved to sit on Hermione's lap, said, "Isn't that the name of Rose's dad?"
Hermione glanced up at a smirking Draco Malfoy before she answered. "Yes, his name is Ron."
Fiona looked at her father. "Read more, Daddy."
"Very well, where was I?" Draco skimmed past a few pages, then turning the book back toward his audience, he said, "The first little pig was lazy, indolent and unindustrialized, and so when it came time to build his house, he used common, everyday straw."
Hermione, who was done with Fiona's hair, set the comb by her knee. With Fiona still on her lap, she leaned forward again. "Tell me where it says 'indolent' and especially 'unindustrialized' in a children's book, Malfoy."
He smiled, and the smile grew wider when Fiona pointed at the hair on the pig in the drawing. "He does have ginger hair, just like Rose."
Hermione smiled, leaned away again, and Draco asked, "May I continue?"
"If you think you can," Hermione quipped.
He turned the page. "The next pig, who grew up in a cupboard, and therefore wasn't used to the finer things in life, built his house out of sticks, which fell from a tree during a thunderstorm. He also received a nasty looking lightning bolt scar on his forehead during the same storm, rendering him brain-damaged."
Hermione glared at him.
He said with a perfectly straight face, "And his name was Harry. Harry the brain-damaged pig."
"Now come on, Malfoy!" Hermione chuckled.
Fiona looked up at Hermione, then back to her father. Thinking she was 'chiming in', Fiona said, "Yeah, come on Malfoy, read more."
Hermione tried to hide her laughter, Draco cracked another smile and said, "I will continue, but I think you should call me Daddy, don't you?"
"Miss Hermione calls you Malfoy," Fiona reasoned.
"Miss Hermione calls me all sorts of things I would never want you to say." He opened the book again to a page showing the last pig, building a house of bricks. "The last little pig, which was a girl pig, and very pretty by pig standards, was the smartest of the bunch. Hermione… I mean, this pig knew that a house of sticks and a house of straw could never stand up to the harsh realities of this world."
Fiona placed a small hand on the page, keeping him from turning it. "What's a harsh reality, Daddy?"
Hermione echoed, "Yes, what's a harsh reality, Daddy."
"Never mind, both of you, let's finish the story."
He continued to tell a tale of a big bad 'pureblood' wolf, who's name, oddly enough, was Draco – just like his – and how he huffed and puffed and not only knocked down the house of straw and the house of sticks, but somehow, in the midst of the story, he also beat both of them at Quidditch. Finally, he got to the pictures showing the last little pig, with its two brothers, standing in the house of bricks.
"Draco, the big bad wolf, said to this third, pretty little piglet, 'Little pig, little pig, let me in', and she said, 'Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin'."
Hermione whispered in Fiona's ear, "I think that's the only part he read correctly so far."
Fiona looked up at Hermione and nodded her agreement, making Hermione hug her closer.
"You do have a hair on your chin." Draco reached out toward Hermione and pulled an imaginary hair from her chin, garnering him a slap to the hand by her.
"So the big bad wolf," Draco said, "huffed and puffed but he couldn't blow the house down." He showed them the picture and then placed the book on Fiona's lap. "He did, however, decide that if he couldn't blow the house down, he would knock on the door and ask the third little piggy to marry him. She did, and they lived happily ever after."
Yawning, Fiona hurried off Hermione's lap, sunk down under the covers, placing the book under the pillow. "That was a great story, Daddy. It was different this time from when Rose read it to me earlier. Still, I liked it better. Thank you." Then she closed her eyes and within minutes she was asleep.
Hermione placed a hand on the girls head and stroked it down her hair. "What are we to do, Malfoy?"
Hermione looked up at him, and he had a fierce expression on his face. "I'll tell you what we're going to do. I'm going to ask Astoria to remarry me, I'll get custody of my daughter, and then I'll divorce Astoria, yet again, and marry you. We'll make up a new custody contract, have my parents sign it, and somewhere in the verbiage we'll have it stated that even if I divorce, and then remarry another, even if she's not a pureblood, I'll get to keep my daughter forever."
"Will that work?" Hermione asked, lifting her hand from Fiona's head to cup Draco's cheek.
"You have an ex-fiancé who's a solicitor, don't you?" Draco took her hand from his face and held it in his.
"Michael Corner," she said, nodding.
"Who knew having so many ex-fiancés would work to our advantage? Have him meet us here tomorrow. He can look at that crap of a contract my father signed, and tell us if we have a chance. But know this, little lion, I'm not giving up either of you. I won't. I'm a big bad wolf, and I'll huff and puff and tear this mother fucking house to the ground if I don't get my way. I will marry the third pretty little piggy no matter what."
Hermione sunk down on the pillow next to Fiona. Draco did the same on the little girl's other side, their hands still clasped and settled between them, on top of the little girl's side. After a few moments of silence, Hermione whispered, "So you think I'm a pretty little piggy, huh?"