A/N: On the Wheel of the Year, Yule is the Winter Solstice, usually falls on or around the 21st of December. Celebrations last anywhere from just the one day, to twelve days to two months.
Chapter 29:
"Will you hurry it along?" Draco snapped, buttoning his coat as Hermione pulled her coat over her clothing.
His mood had been petulant all morning and she was frankly getting sick of it. The two had never had a true argument, their bond tight and overflowing with love and care. But his attitude was perturbing to say the least and she had not been able to get to the root of his behavior. His mother had approached him about it and in turn, he had locked himself in the room for the better part of the morning. They were headed to St. Mungo's and Hermione knew he was feeling anxious about the Malfoy's first outing with Alya as a family in wizarding England, but she could not shake the feeling that there was something more.
"Draco, why don't you just go with your family? I'll stay here and read," his witch told him, lifting a book from the desk and shaking it in his direction.
"No!" his voice was panicked and quick as he put a hand over where she was beginning to slide her coat back down her arms. "Please."
She glared at him, trying to ignore her hurt feelings. "Then can you please stop biting my head off? I'm only trying to be supportive to you."
Draco sighed and pulled her coat back up to her shoulders. "I'm not trying to. I'm just nervous about this outing is all."
"Everything will be fine, Draco," Hermione told him as he tucked her coat around her neck and placed a kiss to her forehead.
"Merlin, I hope you're right," was his response as he took her hand and led her down the stairs to where his mother and Alya were bundling up.
Did you tell her? Alya signed and Hermione saw Draco give a subtle shake of the head. Did he tell who what? Alya's brow furrowed before she turned to her mother. Do we have all of the presents?
Yes, sweet girl. I packed them all in the nifty bag Miss Minnie gave me for Christmas. Narcissa gestured to the elegant clutch that Hermione had placed an extension charm into. Hermione gave her a smile and Draco huffed slightly beside her. "Can we please just go now?" he asked the room at large, and the impudent tone in his voice reminded Hermione of when they were younger and he was not getting his way.
Hermione glared at him once more and he averted his eyes away from her and bit the inside of his cheek. Narcissa gave him a stern glance and led Alya to the portkey—a tiny silver grape cluster wrapped in crushed velvet until they were ready to use it. The girl raised an eyebrow and her mother explained. Now that you are home, we can no longer use the floo to get to England.
The four stepped in and Narcissa covered Alya's hand as she brought it to touch the metal. With a squelch, they landed in the foyer of St. Mungo's. "We'll meet here in two hours, then?" the elder witch asked, eyeing Draco.
The wizard nodded, looking anxious. Confusion clouded Hermione's mind. Where were they headed to without Draco's family? Narcissa raised a hand to her son's face, giving him a look of motherly admiration and pride. "Little dragon, always so selfless."
Draco scoffed and his mother patted his cheek twice before she took Alya's hand and led her away toward the makeshift orphanage. Draco stared after them, noting the looks the pair was already drawing from a few stragglers. He turned to Hermione, who had been watching him—his demeanor, his mood shift, his anxious energy. "What's going on?" she asked, her own nerves spiking as he drew his lip between his teeth.
"We aren't visiting the children," he confessed, bringing his eyes reluctantly to meet her own. "I have a surprise for you, but I'm not sure how you'll take it."
The bright witch searched his face and then it dawned on her. With a gasp, she felt her knees begin to buckle, though Draco steadied her with hands beneath her elbows. "My parents?" she managed to choke out, looking over his shoulder toward the memory ward.
"It's okay, Hermione," he told her, running a hand over her curls reassuringly. "I'll be right there with you, the whole time. Unless…unless you want to do it alone? Maybe not introduce me the first time you see them?"
The uncertainty in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. "We're together," she croaked, burying her face into the wool of his coat against his chest so he would not see the tears threatening to fall.
When she had gathered herself enough, she leaned back. "I wouldn't even have them back if it weren't for you."
His arms were still loose around her shoulders as he shrugged. "More like my bank vault. I did nothing at all except hire a team of mind healers."
"Yes, but not just any mind healers. The best in the wizarding world. You've taken care of me more than I could ever hope for," her voice cracked between the two last words and he pulled her in for a tight hug.
"Don't cry, love. Let's go in and see them," he told her, nudging her with his chest so that she would pull back and look at him.
"What if they hate me?" she asked him quietly. "What if they just can't forgive me?"
"They're your parents. They won't hate you. But," he wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye before it had the chance to fall, "you have to be patient with them as well. You did tamper with their minds—it may take a little time for them to come around."
Hermione felt her bottom lip quiver and Draco put his thumb over it before brushing his lips against hers. He ran a hand over her hair once more and then took her hand and led her toward the memory ward. Once they entered, they were greeted by the same snotty little witch from the months prior and she simply waved them toward Healer Holcomb's door.
Hermione could feel her irritation at the witch rising up within her, but swallowed it down as Draco rapped three times on the designated door. Healer Holcomb opened it with a wave of his wand and upon seeing Draco and Hermione, his face broke into a wide smile. "Lord and Lady Malfoy," he greeted and Hermione smiled at his teasing though her stomach was flopping over within her.
"Healer," Draco greeted. "You said we would be able to see them now."
The stout man rose from his chair and closed the door behind them. "I did. And you can. But Miss Granger," all teasing was gone from his voice now. "You must understand that they are not just as they were when you left them."
Every possible scenario ran through Hermione's mind—disfigurement, the death of one of them, memories so damaged they were little more than Neville Longbottom's parents. The bile rose in her throat and she thought she may vomit all over the Healer's tile floor. "What's wrong?" she asked immediately.
"Nothing like what you must be thinking," the Healer replied. "I'm sorry. I should not have said that so ominously. They're final, physically and mentally. We've restored much of their memory, but not everything will be there all at once. We are working a little more every day, but there may be times when you need to fill them in. Little things—names, faces, details. But please don't be discouraged, they remember you."
Hermione was trying to absorb everything he was saying to her, but she felt like her head was below water. They remember you. Draco was smiling slightly next to her, trying to gauge her reactions. "Can we see them now?"
Healer Holcomb gave her a warm smile and gestured for them to follow him. He led them down an entirely too-sterile corridor to a door near the end. "They've just finished up having lunch," the Healer told them, knocking gently before turning the knob.
Hermione's eyes were closed when the door opened as she took a steadying breath. Draco placed his hand on her back as he moved beside her. "It's okay, love."
"Hermione?" it was her father's gruff voice.
Her eyes shot open and she saw her parents for the first time in over a year. They both looked tanner and healthier than the last time she had seen them, though they looked hesitant and unsure. "Dad!" she left Draco's side and pummeled into her father's chest.
He hesitated only a moment before her put his arms around her as well. "Hermione, what on earth?"
She pulled back, the tears flowing freely now as she took in the sight of her mother sitting on a bed opposite where they stood. She was wringing her hands in her lap as she watched her husband and daughter embrace. "Hermione," she stated, a nod of the head the only other movement she made.
"Mum," Hermione said, crossing the room and pulling her mother into a strong embrace.
Her arms went around her daughter and she patted her back awkwardly. The relationship between Hermione and her mother had never been a fantastic one. There was always a level of friction, two stubborn and strong-willed women's personalities clashing, catching her poor father in the middle. Hermione was weeping openly at the chilly reception, embarrassed for Draco to see the exchange.
He seemed to sense her discomfort, because within moments, he was by her side, extending his hand to each of her parents in turn. "Draco Malfoy. A pleasure to finally meet the two of you. Hermione has told me so much of her childhood with the two of you."
"And who are you, Draco Malfoy?" her father asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the two of them.
"I'm—" Draco hesitated.
Hermione took a single step forward, angling herself protectively in front of him. "Draco and I are courting."
"Courting?" her mother asked, rising to stand next to her husband. "So, you've found time to get a boyfriend, but not to bring us back yourself?"
"Jean," her father chided lightly. "Ease up."
"Ease up?" her mother replied. "Richard, she took everything from us!"
Hermione could feel her heart clenching as her mother glared at her in agitation. She had supposed that this encounter would go exactly like this, her mother's stern and disciplining mannerisms what had worried her for so long. She dreaded the conversation with Draco once they left. "I think that's a little unnecessary," Draco told her mother. "She only did what she thought to be right."
"She should have given us the option of running away or staying, not deprived us of our entire lives. The doctors here have said that you cast an unusually strong spell on us—we could have permanently been like this!" her mother said, her voice rising slightly in her hysteria.
Her father put an arm around her mother and patted her shoulder. "Jean. Easy."
"Yes, easy," Draco repeated, his voice holding an icy warning undertone.
"And who do you think you are?" her mother asked the blond wizard, shooting him one of her signature looks.
"He is the reason you are back," Hermione told her mother. "If he hadn't hired the Healers, you would still be in Australia. I did try to bring you back. Mr. Weasley and I went to Australia, just after the War ended. But the charm was too potent."
"Potent?" her father asked with a slight smile. "We were nearly comatose for a week as they tried to pump our heads full of memories. Always the overachiever."
Hermione smiled slightly at her father's quip. "I didn't have a whole lot of practice removing eighteen years of memories."
"Yes, and now that you have—we no longer have a home here, we no longer have our memories or possessions form when you were a child, nothing!" her mother wailed, finally breaking down beyond her hardened exterior.
Hermione pulled her mother into her arms once more. "Mum. I never meant it—any of it. I only wanted to keep you both safe—I feared the Death Eaters would find you and kill you because of my friendship with Harry. We had to do things to win the War that had a bounty on our heads!"
Her mother simply cried into her shoulder, mumbling about choices and betrayal. Her dad wrapped his arms around them both, also crying and Hermione felt as though she would break down beyond repair at any moment. The thought of having the two of them back—even with her mother's cold response—was more than she could have hoped for.
Hermione knew instinctively that Draco had moved away from them, toward the door as his magic receded. She pulled back from her parents, and wiped at the tears streaming from her face with her sleeves. "Draco, don't leave."
"You three need some time alone," he argued lightly.
"I need you to come over here so I can properly introduce you to my parents," she retorted, reaching out for him when he drew nearer.
Draco's face was turning an enchanting shade of pink as she took his hand. "Mum, dad. Draco and I…we're…I love him."
Her mother glanced between the two, her lips pursed into a terse line. "Why do I know that name? Draco?"
Hermione felt him stiffen next to her and she intertwined their fingers. "Maybe we should sit? I can explain a few things to you?"
"You have more than a few things to explain, Hermione! And even more to apologize for!" her mother told her, plopping into a chair.
"The War was raging around us, mother, and Harry, Ron and I were at the center of it all!" she told her, pleading with her to understand.
"I think what Hermione is trying to say, I can explain a little more readily," Draco told them, sitting alongside her across from her parents.
"Draco—you don't have to," Hermione told him, putting a hand over his knee.
He put a hand over hers and then unbuttoned his left sleeve slowly. He lifted his shirt to show what remained of his Mark to them—no more than a faint pink outline now, shining against his alabaster skin. Her mother gasped as she put a hand over her mouth. "What—what is that?"
"It looks sinister," her father said, backing away from his extended arm a little.
"The Death Eaters—the people Hermione feared would come for you—I used to be one," he admitted quietly.
Her parents were looking at them in confused horror. "Hermione?" her mother asked for confirmation.
Hermione silently drew back her own sleeve, the MUDBLOOD scar shining brightly. "Why does that feel like a slur?" her father demanded, his face screwed up as he tried to remember a word long forgotten.
"What happened?" her mother voiced more forcefully, her voice strained as she gave Draco as accusatory glance.
"During the War, we were captured—Harry, Ron and I—and brought to Malfoy Manor. It's where Voldemort and his followers were operating from," Hermione began, not wanting to relive the horrors of the prior spring.
"My aunt tortured her for information," Draco said mournfully, his voice catching up in his throat.
"Your family? And you're just going to accept him into your life, Hermione? Is this some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome?" her mother asked, scandalized as she looked away from their two forearms.
"Draco saved me then, and again at the end of the War. He's the only reason I'm alive. And he's not a Death Eater. He may have taken the Mark reluctantly, but he did it to save his family—"
"Or to rise to power and failed miserably," her father reasoned.
Draco looked down at his Mark and rebuttoned his shirt sleeve, averting his eyes and staring toward the floor. "I made a lot of mistakes. But in a time of War, we all have to make decisions to save those we love. This was my decision. And my mother is alive because of it."
"I'm alive because of it!" Hermione said adamantly. "If Draco hadn't been there at the Manor, we would all be dead!"
"So, he saved your life? And what, you feel you owe him a relationship?" her father asked incredulously.
"Draco is strong, brave, resilient and beautiful—inside even more so than outside, and that's clearly saying something!" Hermione told them with such a conviction that she began to rise form her seat. "I love him, and we will be married!"
"Married? How can you be so sure?" her mother voiced.
"I've seen it," she told them.
"Seen?" her father asked for clarification.
"Hermione has Seer's blood in her, it's common in Muggle-borns," Draco told them.
"Seer?" he then asked.
Draco looked to Hermione to get her to clarify, unsure of how exactly to explain what a true Seer does. Hermione bit her lip and sighed. "Like a fortune teller who reads a crystal ball. I can look at a black mirror and see scenes. Of the past, present and future."
Instead of seeming to be more at ease, the two Grangers looked even more anxious and put off by her admission. Hesitant and riddled with nerves over their daughter's magical abilities in the aftermath of her most powerful spell. Hermione began to feel ill at ease as well—frustrated beyond measure at her inability to make her parents see that everything was going well for her, that she had done what she had to save them.
Having her mother look down her nose at her, angry over what she considered a betrayal, and the twinkle of disappointment in her father's eyes was so much worse than she had ever anticipated. Her heart began to hurt in its cage, aching with every breath she took. "Let's go, Draco."
"Hermione—"
"Now, please," she told him, standing and running out of the door.
Draco followed her into the corridor as she leaned against the wall and slid to her bottom. He crouched in front of her and put his hands on either side of her face. "Hermione, love, look at me," he instructed softly.
"I knew it would be like this," she told him, hiding between her hands.
"You haven't given them a chance," he told her. "I know it hurts, but you took their rights, their memories and their lives away from them. They're trying to cope, just as you are."
"Do you have to play Devil's Advocate?" she asked him, looking out from behind her hands to give him a betrayed look. "Can't you just let me cry and rave and be pitiful."
Draco sighed and dipped his head for a moment before he looked up at her and brought his lips to kiss either of her cheeks. "You're not pitiful. But you have to understand from their side as well. You're allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment. And that's not like you."
The witch knew he was right, as she tried to quell her sobbing to a dull sniffle. But she had held it together for so long, tried to remain the fearless, strong one in their relationship, that she felt her defenses beginning to crumble. All of the anxiety, sadness, and helplessness she had been bottling up since wiping her parents' memories was closing in on her and she felt on the cusp of a full-blown anxiety attack.
"Hermione," her father's voice echoed in the corridor as he stepped out of his room.
She looked up and her father put a hand on Draco's shoulder, silently asking for a moment alone. The wizard gave her a meaningful look and an encouraging smile. "It's okay. I'm going to pop in and see the children. I'll be back in thirty minutes."
"Children?" her father croaked.
"Not ours," Hermione clarified with a laugh.
Her father let out a relieved sigh and exchanged a grateful look with Draco as he turned to leave. "Thirty minutes," the blond confirmed as he ran a hand over her hair and then left.
Her father watched him go and then turned to her. "Hermione, I cannot pretend to understand what in the hell is going on right now," he stated, a confounded look crossing his face. "But we're trying. Come back in and talk with us—we haven't had you in over a year."
"But mum—"
"Mum is hurt. She feels like you've betrayed us by not giving us the choice. I can't say I disagree. But, we're trying. Come back in and we can have some tea and you can tell us about the last year. And about this Draco fellow," her father said, giving her a small smile.
o-o-o
Please review! They head back to Hogwarts next chapter. A lot of this is set up for the third part of this story, but it's all important, so be patient dear readers! I promise this rollercoaster will be worth it!
