Saturday must become FIve Years Day. My Martee98 did again a terrific job, polishing my mistakes.
Chapter 26: When it all seems okay.
One owl, that's all it took.
One owl, that's all it took to turn the peaceful Manor into the Wiltshire's version of the Burrow.
Draco sent a note to Harry to warn him of Hermione's relocation. In return, Harry asked permission to floo into their home, in his name and on behalf of the Weasley clan, which of course was granted out of gratitude.
In less than ten minutes, every single member of the Weasley family came over to admire the little Scorpio and to see Hermione in a different setting. Krops ran like a headless chicken, busy to cater every guest with drinks and finger food, which ended with an extensive brunch in the gardens, following Narcissa's request.
Scorpio didn't budge under the attention, napping peacefully in the crib, and only making himself known for food and a clean nappy. The diaper changes turned into a little back and forth between Draco, who stood up to do the job and Krops, eager to attend to the little Master's needs. In the end, Draco won the dispute, and the pouting elf retreated mumbling.
The house-elf's behaviour was out of the ordinary; Arthur brought it their attention, after seeing the elf make a beeline for the crib everytime he returned from the kitchen."Watch him, Hermione."
The whole group grinned when they saw Krops stand on his tippy toes to look into the bassinet and sigh deeply, content to see the baby sleep peacefully.
When lunch was finished, only Molly remained behind - Mother Weasley shooed everyone away to give Hermione her much needed rest. The younger witch did retreat to her chamber with husband and son and napped a bit. Draco only accompanied his wife to tuck her in and make sure his son was enjoying his kip within the cot where Draco himself slept in.
With everyone out of hearing distance, Molly addressed Narcissa, "How are you holding up?"
"Everything is quite satisfactory, now that Hermione and Scorpio have returned," Narcissa answered serenely, but this was not the answer Molly looked for.
"I know you, and I have never been friends before, we come from a different side of the community. But I think at this point, you could use a friendly ear to vent. You cannot tell your son, how it feels to lose your husband, knowing it was your son who ended his life. And I know for a fact, that you don't have any contact with Andy. So allow me to ask again. How are you holding up?" A warm hand covered another, squeezing lightly, comforting.
"I don't blame my son for Lucius' death. I understand why Draco did it. I know if it had been me who got kidnapped and tortured, Lucius would have done the same to Abraxas. Your father doesn't torture your wife or endangers the life of the grandson. In a way, it wasn't Lucius who returned, it was a stranger I've never met." A single tear ran down the blonde witches' face when she closed her eyes. "Molly, I…" Mother Weasley acted the only way she knew how hugging the other woman and offering the much-needed support.
"I can't even begin to comprehend what you're going through, Narcissa. I know you expect me to tell you to be strong, to look forward, to enjoy your grandson. And I will tell you all of this when it's time to do so. For now, you need to find closure for this whole chapter. Bury your husband, remember him as he was before he lost his mind. Reach out to your sister, she's your only relative aside from your son. You need to grieve so you can move on."
Narcissa let it all sink in, every word coming from Molly resonated with her, but she didn't know what to say in return. She could only nod, and utter a silent thank you.
Satisfied with the outcome - to offer a shoulder to the young widow was Molly's intent; she left the woman behind and headed to the Floo, on her journey back home. However, a blond wizard stopped her halfway and hugged her unexpectedly.
"My debt to you grows every day. I heard every single word, and I don't know how to thank you." Draco spoke in a low tone, he would not cry in front of her anymore, but the emotions were dense. "You've helped me with my son, with my wife and now with my mother. While we did nothing to deserve your warm heart."
"No, you didn't. But you did nothing to deserve this kind of torture either, Draco. And I'm not one to hold grudges and not reach out a hand to those who need help. It's the nature of the beast, as I tend to think. I don't turn my back on anyone." She patted him softly on the cheek. "Try to be strong for the women, Draco, though it's only human if you can't always be a tower of strength."
-oOo-
They spent a lazy day at the Manor, now back to the three of them. Draco had communicated to Malfoy Enterprise he was going to take some time off to concentrate on the healing of his wife and demanded not to be disturbed unless it was utterly urgent.
After the first nap and feed, mother and son moved back to the gardens, the baby protected by a warmth charm. Draco transfigured one of the chairs into a comfortable recliner for Hermione, and he spent the rest of the day watching both, on the one hand memorising the sight, and on the other side fearing this was all a dream.
His mother whispered while she grasped his hand, "Would you allow me to bury your father?" Her face trembled, even if she had the strength to hide it, she wouldn't. Their new lives should be built upon trust.
The wizard nodded, "Give him a last resting place inside the family tomb. I killed a psychopath, not the man who raised me." His other hand was claimed by Hermione, who smiled in agreement.
Unknowingly to both Malfoy's, Hermione feared to go to sleep. During her short nap, earlier, she woke up with a startle, her heart beating in her throat as some memories returned in full force. Seeing again the spot in the great hall from where she was abducted, was also unsettling. Yet, she refused to say a word, hoping this to be of a temporary nature.
She was a strong woman, she was going to overcome this and move on. She had to.
-oOo-
Draco tucked her in, spooning behind her, releasing a deep sigh of contentment. Not only was he finally sleeping in a bed again, after more almost two weeks of no decent sleep at all; his Hermione was back home, in his arms, safe and sound. His son made these adorable noises while he slept, curled in a fetal position inside his cot, a few feet away from their own bed. He cuddled with Hermione as never before, inhaling the scent of her shampoo; his arm snaked around her flatter waist, a hand cupped a breast possessively.
They showered together before getting between the sheets, upon his request. He washed her skin off of every filth, attended to the healing cuts on her arm, rubbed her scalp and lathered her hair. Hermione protested, "I can take care of myself, Draco."
But he pleaded with her, "Let me do this, love. I want to care for you." Understanding where he came from, she gave him full access. His touches were at no point of sexual nature, he knew she wasn't yet ready for it. Draco's caresses were his way of showing how much he missed her, how desperate he had felt, and above all, how much he loved her.
Sleep took over until the newborn announced an empty belly.
A sleepy father stumbled to the cot, cradled the infant in his arms and offered him to his mother. Draco returned to his bed and laid across, nestling his head in her lap while she fed the baby. "Go to sleep, Draco, I'll put him in his bed when I'm finished."
He shook his head, "No, my job. I'm not sleeping, my eyelids are just a little heavy." Scratching his nose with his hand.
Hermione smirked, and caressed his cheek with her free hand, "Stubborn Slytherin."
"Your stubborn Slytherin, love. Would you be cross with me if I ask Krops to change the nappy?"
"I can't blame you for feeling tired, Draco. The house-elf will be more than happy to do it, he can take the night shift, if he wants." He kissed her lazy, while she changed sides. The sleepy grin he gave her, the sign he agreed.
The newborn fell swiftly asleep, his little butt dry and powdered by a beaming elf, who nearly danced with happiness to be of service. Shortly after, Draco's snores overpowered the little noises from Scorpio.
But Hermione was wide awake. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucius' red-rimmed gaze appear, full of hate. No matter how much she tried, her brain replayed pieces of her torturing in her mind, hanging on the chains, helpless.
Biting the urge to scream, Hermione left her bed and exited the room, walking barefoot to the great hall. The room was moonlit and silent, a little too scary for her taste. Hermione threw a silence spell around the room, sat down on the floor, on the very same spot; and wiggled herself, allowing the tears to fall. The images wouldn't disappear, the foul smell of mould, his maniacal laugh happy to inflict her pain. It was as if the feeling of sheer pain never left her body, the burning fire of the drink of despair raging through her veins. It was all too much, and she screamed out the top of her lungs, screams of agony mixed with the crying of despair. She sobbed until she became hoarse and until she couldn't cry longer.
A plop startled her. Krops approached her with a cuppa tea, "Misses, drink, please. It will do Misses good."
Acting on an impulse, the woman set the mug aside and hugged the house-elf tight and sobbed some more; the poor creature spooked and confused. Never had someone embraced him before and he didn't know what to do, patting Hermione awkwardly on the back.
Drying her tears, Hermione thanked for the tea, "Krops, thank you, and please, don't tell Draco about this." The elf nodded and disappeared instantly. Her sobs subdued and she remained on the floor a while longer. In the end, she returned to her room, splashing first some cold water on her face in the ensuite, before going back to bed, just in time for the new feeding.
Draco, unaware of her absence, scooted closer to her heat, sleeping peacefully with a smile. When she was done with Scorpio, Hermione sought the safety of his arms to find her own rest, falling asleep from exhaustion.