Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.
P.S. Super big kudos to phnxgirl for her always helpful beta-read – you're a lifesaver. My chapter quality has improved so much since you've started beta-reading for me. Yay! And to rachylynxx for her early sneak peak review: thank you! acro
Chapter 29 The Thing About Sisters, Part One
"So I told him enough was enough. Yes, shagging could help a cold, but I never said he could have a go at me every four to six hours like I'm a bloody bottle of Tylenol!" Hermione groused.
Ginny and Sue's hooted giggles rang out across the Italian restaurant as Hermione regaled them with Draco's recent antics. The three women had been enjoying a late lunch together after a leisurely jog around the park.
Hermione was thrilled to see that her two closest friends from two very different points in her life were able to get on so well, and Ginny made an excellent addition to their running team. If only they could convince Lindy and Winnie, both dedicated indoor girls, to accompany them. So far, neither Sue nor Hermione had made any headway on that end of their recruitment campaign.
"Anyway, I told him the next time he was feeling off he could go snog a bottle of cough syrup, but Hermione Granger is off the menu! This playground is closed!" Hermione declared as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Sue chuckled and said, tongue-in-cheek, "so that explains why you were running today like you'd spent the morning horseback riding."
Ginny sprayed water across the table as she exploded into guffaws of laughter. Hermione blushed furiously and stuck her tongue out at her older friend as she threw her napkin at her younger friend.
"Yes well, we'll see how well you're running after you and Shaun get back from your little get-away," Hermione said primly. "Honestly, your husband's so excited for this trip, I think I saw his tail wag. What sort of promises did you make, eh Susie? Or is it really just the prospect of two nights sans fairy girls?"
Sue smirked at her younger friends and leaned in to say in a conspiratorial whisper, "It's more like what I promised to wear for him." She gestured seductively towards her cleavage in a low-cut motion, and rolled her eyes. "It's for our anniversary so I really don't mind that much, but it's completely ridiculous," she said.
Ginny and Hermione nodded in understanding just as the entry door opened and Lisa, Hermione's friend and favorite waitress, walked in to start her afternoon shift. She returned Hermione's wave and came over to say hello.
Ginny observed the new girl for a few moments as Hermione chatted with her. The Muggle girl was oddly familiar. Of all the friendly people Ginny had been introduced to in Little Whinging, none of them had sent her magical senses tingling. But this new girl - Lisa? Yes, Hermione had called her Lisa, a perfectly common name, seemed like someone she'd met before...
Sue had gotten Lisa's attention by waving the wine list at her. Lisa good-naturedly pointed out a few selections of chardonnay and pinot grigio that would complement her clams marvelously. It was when the young woman sneered and declared a particular vintage to be "Rubbish! Practically vinegar!" that Ginny's mind began to draw on possible wizarding connections.
A memory bubbled forth from her pre-Hogwarts days. Her mum and dad were tutting over some issue Lucius Malfoy and his cronies had been trying to push through the Wizengamot. What was it? Something about Pureblood families being able to 'free their Squib children to integrate with Muggle society, so they could lead happier lives'.
"It amounts to child abandonment, simply to spare those parents the shame of admitting to having a Squib. Godric forbid they be subjected the inconvenience and horror of allowing a Squib to inherit the family fortune!" her father had declared.
Her mum had patted his arm comfortingly. "I know you're upset, Arthur. And I wholeheartedly agree with you. I couldn't imagine giving up one of our children just because they lack something that's completely out of their control! I wouldn't care if the lot of our children had six legs and three eyeballs; they're ours, and that's always been good enough for me!"
But it wasn't good enough for the Parkinsons, who'd supposedly had a son a year younger than Ginny. He'd simply disappeared before he turned five. So tragic, and never spoken of again, as if he'd never existed.
Theo Nott was known to have been the only one of Nott Senior's children who wasn't a Squib. The rumor was, he'd killed his children- crucio'd them to death trying to force a magical manifestation that just wouldn't come.
It wasn't really such a huge stretch of the imagination to believe that there might be a Squib living in Little Whinging besides Ms. Figg that wasn't popularly known by the wizarding world. Especially since Lisa was as young as she obviously was, she'd probably been 'freed to integrate into Muggle society' by the time she was four or five years old.
Sue made her wine selection, and Hermione seconded it. Lisa looked over at Ginny with a little smirk of indulgence.
"So, Ginny, can I interest you in a glass of the chardonnay? I could work out a trade if you'd give me the phone number of one of those gorgeous twin brothers of yours." Lisa sighed wistfully.
Hermione giggled and said, "You can trust her judgment, Gin. Lisa is the only person Draco allows to select his wine for him. It seems she's a bigger wine snob than he is! Although he does think she has atrocious taste in men."
Lisa protested, "He's just sore I stopped flirting with him after I found out you lot knew each other. Honestly, he's not ugly, I just prefer a ginger if I can get my hands on one!"
Sue let out a whoop and gave Lisa a high-five of adamant agreement, while Ginny and Hermione shared a look of amusement.
"You know Lisa, Ginny has six older brothers, not just the twins. Of course, only three of them are still single. But they're all gingers. Every. Last. One," Hermione said with a conspiratorial wink.
Ginny sprayed her water across the table again.
"Good heavens, Ginny! What's gotten into you?" Hermione laughed as she handed her another napkin. Lisa reached over with another stack of napkins to help wipe up the water.
"Sorry," Ginny panted. "Kind of caught me off guard. Brothers. Dating. Eew. Right?" she lied. "Soo," she said, evasively turning the subject back to safe ground, "how did you learn so much about wine?"
Lisa's earlier smirk turned into a full-blown leer of triumph. "That fussy old Draco's been dying to know the same thing, but I won't tell him. But really, I used to spend large portions of my summers at my aunt's vineyard in Provence. She was a spinster or something, not even sure if she was really my aunt, but she took me under her wing and trained me to take care of the grapes and tend the wine. Bloody great time, and terribly interesting too. I'm working here to save up enough money so I can move over there in a couple years and be a spinster wine maker too."
Lisa saluted the girls with the wine list and made her way towards the back of the restaurant to decant the chardonnay.
"Well," Sue said dreamily, "maybe one day she'll be enough of a success that she'll have her own vineyard with a field full of strapping, young, red-haired men tending her vines. Blimey, that would be a sight to behold. She could sell tickets and make a fortune just allowing women to admire the view!"
"Sue Fraser, you're a married woman!" Hermione admonished.
"And the idea of a crowd of women salivating over what amounts to my brothers, shirtless and sweaty as they work in the fields, is hardly appetizing," Ginny said with a shudder of revulsion.
Hermione and her friends finished their meals, which had been well-rounded with the fine chardonnay that Lisa had selected, and the three friends parted with plans to meet again to run at the same time in a week.
Ginny hugged Hermione and gave her a bag she'd had stashed in her small car. "I'll be at Mum's for the next few days, but I wanted to give you and Draco a little gift for Valentine's Day, as a thanks for everything you two have done for me. I know you're not much into the," Ginny gestured seductively towards her cleavage just as Sue had done earlier, "low-cut numbers. So this is something different. For both of you. Have fun!"
Hermione took the bag cautiously and waved farewell to her red-haired friend as she drove away.
Ginny waved backwards as she sped towards her home on Privet Drive. She couldn't wait to get to her mum's. She hadn't seen Jamie in more than four hours, and that was plenty long enough. Much as she loved her son though, what she really wanted was to find out more about how effective Lucius Malfoy and his cronies had been in passing laws within the Ministry to permit Squib children to be released into Muggle society. She wondered what kind of records had been kept concerning that subject, and just how much access she could get to them.
Well, in the worst case scenario, she did have Harry's old Invisibility cloak. And it wasn't like she'd never broken into the Ministry before.
/.../
"So at last we meet, Gandalf the Grey," Draco said in a solemn voice as he addressed the smoke-dark, four-legged wizard before him on the Frasers' couch. The cat hissed in a most un-wizardlike manner, and Draco took this as a cue to continue speaking.
"I have seen many different and wonderful magics in my travels, and I have met many powerful wizards in my days, both good and evil, but none of them had the power over me that you do," Draco intoned.
Gandalf's scruff rose and his puffy tail stood straight up in the air and shook menacingly. He hissed loudly at Draco and pawed at his face when Draco bent low to glare into the Persian's golden eyes. Draco's eyes immediately started to redden and water, and he beat a hasty retreat as his immune system revolted against the feline's dander.
"See, now this is what I'm talking about. Good God, you're half-stone of pure evil, aren't you?" Draco rubbed his face with his hands.
"Uncle Dwayco! Aunt Mione said you not allowed to tease Gandy!" Rosie Fraser scolded her pseudo-uncle from the entrance to the hallway with her hands on her hips in a pose very much like her pseudo-aunt. Said pseudo-aunt was standing a meter behind Rosie with a smirk on her face. Further behind her, Ellie and Sue carried the girls' bulging bags of assorted clothing and toys that they felt were absolutely necessary to their survival for two nights stay at Aunt Mione and Uncle Draco's.
Draco pointed half-heartedly to the cat from his position on the living room floor, where he'd fallen as his allergy attack brought him low. "The beast is trying to kill me, Aunt Mione. He hates me, and he's trying to kill me. I think he's channeling Crookshanks' spirit." He fell back dramatically, and was rewarded with Ellie and Rosie's squeals of laughter as they ran into the living room to pounce on him.
Hermione rolled her eyes as she helped Sue drag the heavy bags into the living room. "Honestly, Draco, quit being such a baby. Besides, Crookshanks liked you, and he had an uncanny knack for judging a person's character. Now that cat over there, I'd stay away from him if I were you. He loathes you. Have you taken your allergy medicine yet?"
Draco pulled his hands off of his eyes and gazed innocently up at Hermione. "I forgot to bring any," he said, then clamped his fingers down over his nose to hold back a sneeze as Ellie and Rosie opened their pretend-doctor kit and set to work on what surely would be a spectacular imaginary dissection of Draco's torso.
Hermione stood over her pathetic boyfriend as his condition deteriorated. "You're completely helpless, you know that," she said.
Draco nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to hold back any possible girlish giggles as the twins' plastic doctor tools tickled his stomach.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You just presumed that I'd have everything you'd need in my day-bag, didn't you?" she asked.
Draco opened one grey eye and gazed at her. "No sense in both of us being prepared when you have half your body-weight worth of equipment in that bloody bag. You realize, don't you, that you look exactly like Ginny and Winnie with the bags they carry around for their infants?"
"You realize, don't you, what that makes you?" Hermione quipped as she turned to the couch to rummage through her day-bag for her water bottle and Draco's allergy pills.
Draco sniffed disdainfully as he leaned up to accept the water and medicine. "I'm not admitting anything, because it's categorically untrue. I'm a grown man." He swallowed the pills and leaned back to leer up at his girlfriend. "Unless of course, it grants me access under your shirt at odd times in public places like those little blokes get." He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she burst into laughter.
"Draco! You utter pig!" Hermione cried, and Draco lunged away from the fairy girls to tackle her to the ground.
"Change of patient, doctors! Aunt Mione needs the bottoms of her feet operated on right away! I'll hold her down while you lot grab her socks and get to tickling!" Draco ordered the twins as Hermione shrieked and wriggled in his grasp. After several frenzied moments of fevered tickling on the part of Ellie and Rosie, Draco finally relaxed his hold on his screeching girlfriend. Hermione, exhausted by the prolonged torture, lay spent in his arms while Ellie and Rosie ran to help their mum drag their bags towards Hermione's car.
Hermione wiped tears out of her eyes and looked up at Draco. "It's a good thing I love you, you know. That was agonizing!"
Draco leaned down and kissed Hermione. "But you do love me, even when I torture you. Rather confirms the odd duck theory, don't you think?" He sat back up and helped her into a sitting position so that they could rise from Shaun and Sue's living room floor. The two separated to collect their jackets so that they could leave.
"Draco?" Hermione asked.
Draco turned from picking up his jacket from the Fraser's couch. The bloody cat had left its fur all over it. He'd have to take it directly to the cleaners, as there was no way he could wear the bloody thing without immediately succumbing to another blasted sneezing fit.
"Yes, love? Look at my coat. It's practically ruined. Make a note, Girl. Starting tomorrow I'm going to start training the puppies to attack all cats," Draco groused.
"Er, Draco, you can't really do that; and the coat isn't ruined, it's just hairy. We'll get it cleaned," Hermione said placatingly as she approached him.
Draco looked up at Hermione as she ran her hands up his arms, then twined her hands together behind his neck. He dropped his disgusting jacket on the floor as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend for a quick snog before they could be interrupted by any Frasers.
When Hermione finally pulled away from him, flushed and slightly breathless, she whispered, "I really do love you, Draco. More than anything, or anyone. And I always will." She smiled shyly up at him and ran her hands across his jawline.
Draco's heart nearly stopped as he realized what Hermione was implying. He didn't know if she even knew what she was telling him, but what he heard was essentially a go-ahead signal. Hermione had just indicated that he could basically chuck that ring at her and ask her at any time, and she'd say yes.
Obviously that wasn't what either of them was willing to accept. Draco had spent most of his lunch breaks for the past several days trying to write out a proposal. For whatever odd reason they always started with Dear Hermione, which made no bloody sense since he wasn't actually writing his girlfriend a letter. He was trying to write what was in his fucking heart about his brilliant, vivacious, beautiful, sexy, talented, loving, delicious, amazing girlfriend without sounding like a fucking girl himself.
Easier said than done. All those bloody song writers and poets could go fuck themselves.
Draco leaned his forehead against Hermione's, and sighed. "I love you too, Hermione, with everything I have in me, every single day." He saw Sue and the girls re-enter the living room from the corner of his eye.
"But you know when I love you the most, Hermione, is when you save me from evil, dark wizards. That cat," Draco pointed at Gandalf, "is most certainly one of the darkest wizards I've ever come across."
Hermione laughed, and poked Draco in the ribs. "Cut it out, you git! He's not evil!
"He tried to kill me!"
"That cat didn't do anything to you except hiss and paw at your face because you were harassing him."
"In my book that constitutes attempted murder."
"Your book has seriously questionable morals, and laws more flexible than overcooked pasta."
Draco waved his hand casually in the air. "Semantics. Ambiguous wording allows for easy adjustment as needed per situation one finds oneself in. Quite practical, really."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Get in the car, Malfoy." She gestured towards the fairy girls, and headed towards the front door.
Draco nodded and bent down to pick up his hairy jacket. Ugh, disgusting. He looked over at the evil four-legged wizard.
The bloody thing hissed at him.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "I hope my dogs eat you," he said quietly, then made his way out to the car.
/…../
The next two days passed in varying forms of silliness and adventure-seeking activity. Rare moments of time spent sitting down usually included meals and crayons, but other than that, Draco and Hermione were constantly on the go.
Chasing Rosie and Ellie through a giant toy store was one thing, but the fact that Draco was the ring-leader in the fairy girls' escapade through the store made their rebellion all the worse. Hermione spent twenty frantic minutes racing up and down the aisles of the largest toy store she'd ever seen, somewhere in the suburbs of London, before she'd finally discovered Draco, Ellie and Rosie. The three rebellious… children damn it, since Draco was acting like a child himself… were gathered around a large circular bouncing mat attached to springs.
"It's a trampoline!" Hermione cried.
"We're getting one," Draco said in complete seriousness.
"You're barking!" Hermione said.
But Draco hadn't been barking, and three hours later there was a giant round trampoline in the storage room, with a very happy Draco enthusiastically flipping through the air.
Ellie and Rosie admired the flounce of their princess dresses as they chased each other in circles, and applauded for Draco as he twisted and spun in arcs high above the springy black material.
"Look, Aunt Mione! Uncle Dwayco's flying!" Ellie cried.
Hermione smiled. Uncle Draco was flying indeed.
That evening at dinner, Hermione surprised the girls with a giant roll of butcher paper instead of a table cloth, and set a variety of crayons out on the table alongside their bowls of pasta.
As the four of them happily munched apple slices and colored at their seats, Rosie started shifting her coloring closer to Draco to share with him. The two started whispering conspiratorially together. Soon their bowls were pushed to the center of the table and their crayons were flying quickly across the expanse of white paper. It became rapidly clear to Hermione, and to Ellie as well, that Draco was telling a proper dragon story.
Obviously, there was a huge green dragon taking shape right in front on him.
Hermione had to give her boyfriend credit: he could draw a rather dashing looking dragon. What was really rather bizarre though, was that the dragon seemed to have an entourage. There was a multi-colored variety of winged, two-legged creatures flying around it.
"Are those fairies?" Hermione asked, nonplussed. Draco Malfoy making a crayon drawing of a big manly dragon was one thing, but tiny and rather adorable fairies were another matter entirely.
Draco and the girls looked up. Ellie and Rosie had been carefully directing the color scheme and placement for each fairy. Once a fairy was finished, Draco would tell a little story about the dragon in hushed tones, to which the girls would giggle or gasp, and they'd continue on to another fairy.
Draco nodded his head. Rosie and Ellie nodded as well. "Yes, we've been making war between the dragon and the fairies. You see, this," Draco tapped the green fairy, "is the grass fairy, and the dragon accidentally stepped on her. So the red one here, she's the blood fairy, came over and punched the dragon in the eye. Now everyone's mad and no one wants to be nice. Do you want to join us?"
Hermione's jaw hit the floor. "What?" she asked incredulously.
Draco tilted his head and looked closely at Hermione. "What, what?"
"Draco, where on earth did you learn how to do this?"
"What, color? You pick it up at a pretty early age, Girl."
Hermione shook her head, exasperated, and picked up the empty dishes from the table. She carried them to the sink and started rinsing them. Very soon a pair of strong arms encircled her waist as warm breath tickled her ear.
"What's wrong, Girl?" he murmured against her neck.
"Nothing's wrong, Draco. I'm surprised, that's all. For a spoiled little boy who grew up an only child surrounded by other spoiled children with no siblings, you are shockingly wonderful with Ellie and Rosie. Where on earth did you learn how to play so well with little girls? And don't tell me Pansy Parkinson, because I won't believe you."
Draco snorted. "No, it definitely wasn't Pansy. She was a wretched child. More interested in pushing her House Elves down the stair cases and trying to find her family's oubliette than in playing dress-up or coloring pictures. Honestly, my very earliest memories are of a girl my own age, who was my constant playmate and closest friend. We played together all the time. She always wanted to play fairies and dress-up, and naturally I always wanted to play dragons and fighting. There was compromise in the form of making war with the fairies and dragons." Draco shrugged and picked up a towel.
Hermione handed him a clean plate. "So who was the girl? Did she go to Hogwarts?"
Draco squinted as he rubbed at the plate. "No. You know I only vaguely remember the girl. I think I remember Mother saying something about France, possibly. It was ages ago though, and honestly, how much do you remember from when you were four? I barely remember the girl's name. Lila. I think. Seems like I remember getting scolded for saying it wrong, though," Draco shrugged again.
"Well she must have made some kind of impression on you, to have left such a lasting amount of talent in you, all these years later," Hermione quipped.
Draco grinned. "The girls love me, don't they?"
"Uncle Dwayco! Ellie says the purple faiwy's the ouchy faiwy but I say she's the juice faiwy and the dwagon's going to get very firsty soon so we need a juice faiwy weally bad!"
"Ah, your fans await," Hermione mused, and accepted the towel from Draco. He kissed her on the cheek as he returned to the dining table to resume the dragon's plundering of the fairies woods.
/…../
Draco finally heard from Malfalda Hopkirk on Valentine's Day, and her explanation for her long absence left him astonished, and rather touched. Not that he'd actually admit to it, but it was true, none the less.
The Wizengamot clerk-turned-judge had left shortly before the New Year, at the behest of the Ministry, in search of Blaise Zabini. In all actuality she had volunteered for the position because she knew how much it would mean to Draco. Minister Shacklebolt had approved her position because he hoped that Mafalda's relationship with Draco would encourage Blaise and his mother to communicate with the Ministry.
The British magical community was steadily trying to rebuild and recall its many citizens who'd fled before the war broke out. There were precious few Pureblood families left that didn't have alliances with the Dark, or family members in Azkaban. The Zabinis, despite their ties to Slytherin and the Malfoys, had never had any dealings with the Death Eaters, and Minister Shacklebolt was eager to make them aware that there was no ill will between the Ministry of Magic and the Zabini family. Once they were found, of course.
It had taken Mafalda nearly three weeks of Auror-assisted searching, as she chased the Zabini family's well-placed false leads and dead ends, to track down Blaise and his family in the States. With the cooperation of the U.S. Ministry of Magic, Mafalda had secured information leading her to a heavily warded home on the southern coast of California. Nearly a month later, now that the talks with the Ministry were finally complete, Mafalda was able to share with Draco what she'd found within the warded home.
There, within walking distance of a very small school for disabled children, the Zabini matriarch, her heir, and the secret that had them fleeing Britain at the first sign of open war between the Light and the Dark, had lived in relative peace for the last three years.
It was when Draco read this passage in the email from Mafalda that he sagged with profound relief.
It was true that Ms. Zabini didn't have a problem doing away with a husband to gain control of his vault with all of its treasures. But a lesser known truth was that Ms. Zabini never spent longer than four years with a husband that could not give her a child, and her two children were her greatest treasures.
While Blaise stood tall, strong, and magically gifted, tiny Rosalina was twisted, weak and most definitely a Squib. But Ms. Zabini had spent nearly twenty years drinking fertility potions and praying to arcane goddesses in hopes of a daughter. She wasn't about to toss away the only daughter she'd been given because of a few cosmetic difficulties. Despite Rosalina's physical twists and turns, her mind was quick, and her eyes were bright and lively.
There was no question what any of the Death Eaters, let alone Voldemort himself, would have done to Rosalina. Her biological father had met a quick and nasty end within seconds after he'd turned his nose up upon seeing his deformed newborn daughter.
And so it was at Rosalina's birth that a new kind of Pureblood family was born, as the Zabini matriarch started considering how to protect her children from the people she formerly considered her allies. By the time the Death Eaters had re-formed, the Zabini family had become a fully neutral party. Ms. Zabini and her son exuded that certain upper-class, fashionable ennui, without the slightest interest in political goings-on, and thus were completely overlooked when recruiting began.
At seven years old, Blaise and his best friend Draco had looked at newborn tiny Rosalina tucked into the large bed beside Blaise's mummy. The boys agreed that she looked like a baby princess, not a monster. Blaise and Draco didn't think twice about loving and playing with tiny Rosalina. She was Blaise's sister, not a defective product to be discarded.
As the baby grew, the boys explored the world of the Zabini home and grounds with her, and worked with her to help her explore in her own way. When it became clear that tiny Rosalina's limbs wouldn't straighten out enough to allow for walking or even crawling, Draco and Blaise created a sling that the House Elves could wear. In the rare, odd times that Ms. Zabini or the boys weren't around, the Elves could carry tiny Rosalina in her sling without fear of dropping her.
When Rosalina's vocal chords wouldn't develop enough for speech, Blaise and Ms. Zabini had come up with a system of gestures that Rosalina's small hands could make to indicate things she wanted or needed.
It went without being said that Rosalina's entire life was a complete secret. Draco didn't speak about her to anyone, including his own mother. Ms. Zabini had made the boys take an Unbreakable Vow, but even without it, they wouldn't have told anyway.
It was indeed Rosalina's very existence that had Draco questioning the reasoning behind Pureblood supremacy from the beginning. One of the reasons why he'd resented Hermione so much in their early school days was because she was so strong and magically powerful, despite being Muggle-born. When he was young he'd bought into the idea that the Muggle-borns magic had somehow been stolen from Pureblood children. It didn't take long to figure out that was a bunch of bollocks.
When Draco had first met Rosie and Ellie, his heart had ached at the similarity of their names to Blaise's little sister. It had nearly broken in two as he watched the girls in their sweet innocence as they danced and bounced around their father.
Rosalina's father would just as soon have killed her as looked at her.
As would Blaise's father. Had he been alive to do so.
As would Draco's father. And he had been alive to do so.
Draco mentally flipped the girls' roles. If Rosie and Ellie had been born to Pureblood parents, at best they'd have been abandoned at a Muggle orphanage; at worst they'd have been tortured until magic was forced out of them or they died.
If Rosalina had been born to Muggles, she'd have gotten the best medical care while in the womb. From the moment of her birth, she would have had physical and speech therapy. Today, at the age of twelve, she'd probably be, if not walking and talking, at least in much better shape than the twisted little girl she had been when Draco had last seen her.
It was barbaric. They were just children, for fucks sake. Draco swore that when his five years were up, he was going back into the magical community and blowing the doors off of St. Mungo's. He didn't care if he had to buy the entire damned hospital and pay the entire staff to spend a few years working in a Muggle University hospital like regular physicians, there were going to be some changes-
"Oi, Malfoy!"
Draco jumped, badly startled, and nearly fell off the ladder he'd been straddling as he read the email from Mafalda. He looked down the aisle of books to see his – holy shite.
"Hermione? What on Earth did you…? What are you…? Huh?" Draco asked as he pushed his glasses up so he could rub his eyes. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd seen his goddess of a girlfriend in a Hogwarts uniform.
Draco blinked, and looked back down again. Hermione stood below him with her hands on her hips. She was glaring at him in a way that said 'we are at war, and you are an utter wanker,' which was not an expression she typically leveled in his direction.
Hermione also had done some kind of spectacularly comical enlarging to her hair. It was positively enormous. Draco bit his lip to keep from snickering.
But most amazingly, from the knot of her red and gold Gryffindor tie to the shine of her sensible schoolgirl shoes, Hermione Granger was in a Head Girl uniform. Draco was rather relieved she'd left off the robes, as that would have raised a few eyebrows amongst the library patrons. He wondered if she'd left off anything underneath that remarkably sensible knee-length pleated skirt, like knickers…
"Honestly, Malfoy, have you been taking speech lessons from Crabbe and Goyle? Ten points from Slytherin for being out of uniform during school hours. As Head Boy you really should be setting a better example. I just came by to remind you that we have rounds in an hour. Do you think you can remember that?" Hermione snapped.
Draco scrambled down from his ladder and approached his girlfriend with a smirk on his face. It was Valentine's Day, and they didn't have any plans, per se. Hermione was wearing a Hogwarts uniform, and had just indicated that he needed to get into his Slytherin Head Boy uniform within one hour.
Draco decided in that moment that Valentine's Day was officially his favorite holiday and possibly the luckiest day of the year.
Long-lost best friend and his family found safe and sound: check!
Sexy-as-hell girlfriend dressed up for role-playing fun and gone all super-swotty, which had made him inappropriately aroused in the middle of a public library: check!
Hermione narrowed her eyes and batted his hand away when he reached out to touch her magnificently large hair.
"What do you think you're playing at, Malfoy? You don't have permission to touch me!" Hermione hissed.
Draco blinked. Oh, but she was unbelievable. He tried to focus on mental images of Millicent Bulstrode in a swimsuit, Professor McGonagall in a swimsuit, Professor Snape in a swimsuit, to calm down his raging libido.
Draco gave his head a little shake to clear his mind, and tried to allow his attitude towards Hermione circa age sixteen to settle over him. He cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Sorry, Granger, I was just wondering if there was any possible way there was an electrical charge in that thing, as you've obviously been struck by lightning. Good thing you're wearing those hideous practical shoes of yours, or you'd have fried for sure."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms under her breasts, suddenly making it clear to Draco that she was not wearing a bra. "I don't need a fashion critique from you, Malfoy, I just need to know you'll meet me on time. In your uniform. In our private library. In one hour. Am I quite clear?"
Draco swooped in and gathered Hermione in his arms, then pinned her against the nearest bookshelf. He ducked his head down to the level of hers to meet her eyes as he slowly pressed his entire body against hers.
"Tell me something, Granger," Draco said quietly, "what exactly do you have on under that uniform?"
Hermione gasped as Draco pressed his very obvious arousal against her, and whispered back to him, "not a thing, Malfoy."
"Hmm," Draco replied. "In that case, I'll try to make arrangements to meet you earlier. Wouldn't want you to get lonely and start without me, would we?"
Hermione snorted. "Right, like that's ever going to happen." She tilted her head up to give him a quick kiss, then wriggled out of his arms. As she sauntered down the aisle towards the exit, she called back over her shoulder to her boyfriend, who was most definitely staring at her bum.
"Oh, and Draco? You don't mind wearing your glasses this evening, do you? I do love those glasses." She gave him a little wink and a wave, and then flounced out the door before he could say another word.
Draco groaned.
Millicent Bulstrode. Professor McGonagall. Professor Snape.
Despite the grotesque images he was forcing his mind to conjure, Draco was utterly thrilled, right down to his bones. This month was positively shaping up to be one of the best ones of his life – even counting those odd early days when he'd had a horrendous head cold and Hermione had been hiding out at Ginny's. If he could actually get his proposal written and their travel plans made quickly, this could be an almost unbeatable month.
Huzzah!
/…../
Dear Hermione, 'Cripes, why do I keep doing that?'
You are the center of my fucking universe. 'Might want to curb the profanity and the desperation, Malfoy, or she'll just politely ask for a restraining order instead.'
I will always love you. 'Wait, wasn't that the tag line to some horrid, ear-melting, soul-crushing country song? No, worse, it was one of Hermione and her friends' movie night options. Whitney Houston dressed up like a bloody robot singing her blasted heart out to that Robin Hood bloke. Ugh. Thought I'd have to tear my eyes out.'
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. 'Oh, for goodness sake. Not that bloody song again. I have to stop spending so much time with Ellie and Rosie. This is obviously a lost cause. Again. I need a drink.'
Draco tore the paper in half and chucked the pieces into the rubbish bin. As he left the break room of the library, he noted the date on the calendar. It was the last day of February, which he had claimed for himself to be his best month ever. And technically it had been. Valentine's Day alone had been bloody marvelous – and by far, he and Hermione had agreed, the craziest thing they had ever done.
Hermione had packed the Hogwarts outfits away carefully with promises that they were not to be worn or even spoken of unless in dire sexual emergency, because neither of them had escaped the evening entirely unharmed. Hermione's hips had taken a terrible beating, and she swore she had paper cuts on her bum, whereas Draco insisted that he had the entire collection of Shakespeare's works permanently indented across his shoulders, and that his knees had slivers from the hardwood floors.
They'd agreed to never shag on the floor or against the book shelves again. It seemed there were some things that were improved with magic. A cushioning charm would have made all the difference in how they felt the next day… and the day after, and the day after that as well…
Nevertheless, Draco had hoped to get his proposal at least partially outlined, if not written, by the end of the month. He had so much he wanted to tell Hermione, so much he needed to say - but there was too much to fit into a simple marriage proposal.
The thing was, asking an angel like Hermione Granger to join his notorious family, and to help him rebuild it, was somewhat of a daunting task. On top of that, he really did want to express to her something along the lines of the fact that she was the center of his universe, that he would always love her, and that she did make him unbelievably happy.
They were leaving for Italy in two weeks. Two weeks. Bugger.
To Be Continued.
Author's Note:
Henceforth, we shall call September 2013 The Month That We Do Not Speak Of.
Ugh. Honestly, time is not on my side. The emerging plot bunnies make the chapters come slower, definitely. But last month (and if you were on Twitter, you'd already know this because I whined about it a lot), I had to break down and move my entire office. Ten years of stuff for five people (now there's just two of us, but all the crap was still there, ick) had to be packed, moved and unpacked, and I did it all alone. So when I did get the chance to write, I was so miserable and sore I kept writing all angsty and bitchy – but I didn't want that, so I had to wait until I was settled and happy again. But I never stopped writing. I haven't run out of steam, or ideas – God no, this is my baby! – it's just a time thing. Seriously. Don't give up on me, because I'm not by any means slowing down on my writing. It's just a matter of getting time to physically type. I'm settled in my new space, but suddenly work is finding it amusing (for the first time in three years) to overwhelm me with heaps of projects. Again, come watch me whine about it on Twitter. I can't quite make work understand that I have important writing to do! Despite that, I am constantly at least mentally working on the plot. Speaking of plot, we're heading to Italy soon! Not me personally, I've never been there – so I will try to be very careful to make sure it's not blatantly obvious I've never been. If any Italian natives or experts want to offer their services to beta my 2 Italian chapters coming up, I'd appreciate it: specifically Rome down to Pompeii and the Amalfi coast, in March.
Right! Read, review, share, come say hi on Twitter! I'll try not to whine so much. But hey, at least you'll know I haven't dropped dead or suddenly decided I'm too cool for fanfiction or something (as if that will ever happen!). Thanks to everyone who did check in to make sure I didn't die, I appreciate the virtual hugs and nudges of encouragement.
Three cheers again for phnxgirl for beta-reading! It's amazing what kinds of errors a second set of eyeballs will catch!
acro
