Three Little Birds
Hermione struggled through the door with large bags of take-out, grunting uncharacteristically as she kicked off her heels and shrugged her satchel off her shoulder onto the hard wood floor, her curls in disarray in her face. Lucius' form came into vision as he appeared at the top of the stairs with a confused frown pulling down at his face. Strutting down quickly, he grabbed the plastic bags from the small witch—err, muggleborn? Woman.
"You're home early. And what's this?" he asked, holding the bag up and inhaling the fumes of orange chicken and stir fry.
"It was a rough day. I left as soon as I could," she mumbled as she draped her peacoat over a hook. She pointed at the bags. "And that is dinner. I am just too tired—"
"Hermione," said Lucius, his frown deepening. "You do not have to explain. You had a bad day—and you definitely do not need to cook every day, even though I know you enjoy it. Draco and I are fully capable of making a meal for all of us."
Hermione rose a brow, causing Lucius to huff unexpectedly, although a playful glint shimmered in his eye.
"Well, Draco, I suppose."
"Uh huh. We definitely do not need a repeat of our first holiday together," sang Hermione as she followed behind Lucius to the kitchen. He paused for a moment and shot her a backwards disapproving look which only caused the young woman to laugh lightly. "Speaking of, where is the fer—"
There was a loud crack! and Draco appeared from apparition in the kitchen, stumbling slightly; his father opened his mouth to scold him until the young Malfoy whipped around with wide eyes, his usually slick hair rather messy. However, what really left Lucius and Hermione's jaws unhinged was the evident mauve lipstick smeared around his mouth and cheek, the missing button from his rather crumpled top, and flush that painted across his sharp cheeks.
"Draco Malfoy!" exclaimed Hermione with a mock disbelief, her hand coming to her chest at the scandalous display.
Draco's blush practically made him a cherry, reddening all the way up to his ears. He brought his hands to his hair and tried to fix himself up with little success.
"Shut up!" he said in a cracked voice. His eyes found his father's cool ones. Hermione knew if her best friend could crawl into an Acromantula den right now, be wrapped in web and innards liquified, never to be seen again, it would be a fate less cruel than the embarrassment she knew he felt before Lucius.
Still, it was just too good of an opportunity.
"Was it Astoria? Scarlet? Parkinson?" asked Hermione, smirking as she rounded on him, examining his disheveled appearance. Her nose scrunched up as she smelled the lingering perfume that wafted off his nicest coats. "Ah, Astoria Greengrass it is."
Both Lucius and Draco looked at her with stunned expressions, causing her to shrug.
"I can recognize the Muggle perfume she used to wear when I would see her at work. I complimented her on it a few times," she said nonchalantly, waving her hand.
"Either way, this is hardly the way to appear back home," said Lucius in a mildly scolding tone. His eyes vaguely flashed to Hermione and back to his son, and Draco seemed to be able to read in between the lines of his father's words, and his stomach twisted a little. Hermione was oblivious as she simply grinned teasingly at them.
"Oh, come on, Lucius—he's obviously having a good time."
"My point exactly. There is a proper way to court women, Draco; snogging like a student is not one of them," he said.
Before Draco could speak, Hermione came beside him and placed a gentle hand against his temple, causing him to freeze at the surprising touch. He turned his face slightly to look at her and was calmed by the easy smile she wore and softness in her brown eyes as she regarded him. With deft fingers, she easily tamed his post-snog hair back into place, immaculate as ever.
"You've liked Astoria since we were kids," she stated, her smile knowing. "I think it's good you're finally taking a chance, Draco. You should enjoy it, and if it's serious, you'll know."
Lucius watched his son visibly relax, his shoulders losing the weight of Lucius' words—it made the man feel slightly guilty for being hard on his son. But he watched curiously how Draco's mouth pinched into a shy smile as he bit back his excitement; he watched as Hermione's words and simple touch brought his son the type of validation Lucius knew he needed. It was an intimate moment between two people who cared the most for one another, and he could see just how much they have grown—as individuals, and together. Just a few years ago, Draco barely spoke to Hermione about these sorts of things; if he were to admit, Lucius realized Draco never really talked to anyone about anything personal, himself included. It wasn't until Hermione found a letter from Miss Greengrass forgotten in the living room did Draco finally open up about his feelings and concerns involving the girl, which soon overflowed into other, much heavier conversations that his son kept under seal for years. Lucius had no idea Draco felt so much, so deeply, until that night when the truth rolled off his usually forked tongue with the help of some whiskey; he realized that night, too, just how important Hermione Granger was to their lives—to their survival—as she quickly read the situation and welcomed Draco to her world under the stars with a record player and hot cocoa, where she spent hours coaxing his son's vulnerability. Ever since, the connection and closeness between the two young adults was palpable.
"What's wrong with your face?" asked Draco suddenly, the vulnerability lost and now replaced with his typical swagger. "Why are you smiling?"
Lucius narrowed his eyes at his son as he pulled himself from his internal monologue.
"Clean your face. You look like you were chewing crayons—again."
Hermione snorted ungracefully before ascending into loud laughter, grinning at her best friend.
"I was a child."
"And sometimes still are," piped in Hermione, flashing him a smirk. Lucius' brow rose.
"Well, aren't we in rare form today, Miss Granger? I don't believe I've witnessed such sass from you," said Lucius as he unpacked their Chinese takeout, taking a glance at their menu with a squint. Draco side stepped around his father, avoiding his piercing eyes, and turned on the tap to clean his face free from the lipstick stains.
"And you're home at a normal time," said Draco, glancing at the oven clock as he wiped his face clean. Hermione sat on a stool and slumped slightly, supporting her chin in a palm and pushing away her loose curls. She huffed and removed her glasses.
"My clients' parrot died last night. Now with emotional distress, they are pointing fingers at each other even more than before, fighting over belongings that were once settled in their stipulations," she said hastily, feeling the frustration get the best of her. She rubbed her temples with her other hand, slumping further. "I understand it's upsetting. It's just a lot more work now."
Lucius nodded as he listened, divvying up the food. He paused when he passed her, her usual dish.
"Perhaps a vacation is overdue. A real vacation, not just a day or two of decompression in this house," he suggested as he exchanged his plasticware for silver. Draco came around and sat at the end of the island, nodding.
"We were just talking about that. It'd be nice to go away. I think we all need it," agreed Draco before he scooped a mouthful of stir fry into his mouth, humming in appreciation.
"Perhaps for Christmas?" said Hermione, her voice full of childish hope. Lucius' eyes rose to meet her almost pleading ones, and a chuckle escaped him.
"I think we can do that," he said as he smiled at her. "Where should we go?"
"Italy."
"The cottage."
Draco and Hermione exchanged heated looks which only caused the older man to laugh a little more openly as he shook his head; some things did not change between the two, at all. He tuned them out for a moment as his thoughts drifted once more (he was sure they were bickering about the location), his eyes soft as he regarded the two most important people in his life warmly, even though a slight frown twitched at his lips; Lucius had always thought, given the opportunity and timing, his son and Hermione would fall for each other. It was practically all Narcissa could talk about for a few years. At first, he could not fathom the idea: Draco and Hermione were just too different; Draco was difficult, high maintenance, and extremely guarded, so much he nearly bit a young witch's head off for approaching him to dance at a Ministry function a few years prior. He proceeded to mock her about the unwelcomed love notes she sent him at work and made the poor girl cry. He hadn't been in a relationship since the war.
Then there was Hermione: sweet, passionate, empathetic Hermione Granger—with a mean stubborn streak that rivalled any wild mare Lucius ever encountered in life. She was fire, raging dangerously yet so enticing, and they the moths. She spoke fiercely; she loved fiercely. She was the perfect balance of ferocity and calmness. The way the young adults would argue, it was unbelievable to think they were anything remotely close to friends.
Oh, did his late wife encourage them! A simple word here and there in their debates was enough to flare up either side, and she would sit, nursing her elven wine and watched on in amusement, exchanging knowing looks with a her rather disgruntled husband.
She's good for us, Narcissa would say. Even for you, dear.
And in time, he knew his wife was right. Hermione just meshed with them, a perfect balance of chaos and grace.
"That's the second time you've zoned out, Lucius. Very un-Malfoy of you," came Hermione's overly sweet voice. Lucius blinked away the haze and found himself being inquired by curious and teasing eyes. He rose his brows again, his face quickly slipping back into smoothness.
"Yes, you really are in rare form today, Miss Granger," he drawled in a way usual to his past self. Hermione's cheeks burned slightly as she chuckled, reaching for a fortune cookie, only to have it swept up by her warden. "Ah, ah, only good girls get desert."
"Lucius!" she exclaimed in between laughter. "That was the last one!"
He grinned at her as he quickly unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth with a crunch, much to the young woman's dismay, though she still giggled. Lucius watched his son watch their friend with a peculiar expression that was not unknown to him; he once saw it on Draco's face when Hermione was formally presented as the Head of the Department of Mysteries, and again when she spoke at the last Victory Ball they attended, beautiful in her burgundy gown. He knew if he decided to slip into his son's mind at this very moment, he would find no barriers, and he knew the kind of things he would see.
Then, Draco's eyes, twin to his own, met his, and they shared a brief look. The Malfoy's knew they were done for.
Harsh tapping against the kitchen window abruptly brought silence upon the three; the old owl tapped incessantly against the glass and hooted, its feathers fluffed from the rain. Hermione frowned and slowly came around the island.
"That's Sirius' old owl…"
"So?" asked Draco as he perused her plate for marinated broccoli.
Hermione opened the window and Bartemus quickly released the envelope, nearly dropping it in the sink, and quickly departed with another hoot into the misty sky. Hermione grabbed the envelope and turned it over to see nothing was written on it. Her heart began hammering like a jack against her chest, her pulse quickening; she flexed her fingers two or three times—a telltale sign of her inner turmoil—before looking up at the two confused men, whose eyes were glued to her mail.
"What is it, Hermione?" asked Lucius, a little stern.
Hermione quickly peeled up the flap and nearly yelped when suddenly several other pieces of parchment shot from within, twisting and folding themselves into origami birds, and flew above their heads with the fluidity of real canaries. Hermione watched with youthful eyes at the simple display of magic before carefully withdrawing and unfolding the letter and let out an emotional sigh. The sniffles quickly invaded her nose as her eyes welled with tears and a smile torn between pain and happiness twisted on her face.
"T-Teddy. It's from Teddy."
A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I hope everyone was safe and took care of themselves during this holiday season. I know it can be hard for a lot of people for various reasons, because mine definitely were. I hope this chapter finds you well. See you soon! Much love.