A strange occurrence was taking place almost a month later from filing for Hermione's governess and speaking with his mother about the campaign—Draco was escorting his Dea to the manor, Apparating her into the travel room. When he first brought the idea up to her, it seemed a flashback hit her for a moment, forgetting that Malfoy Manor was long taken. The sudden terror that ripped through his chest, nearly sending him to his office floor, abruptly constricting his lungs, lasted for all of ten seconds—it had felt boundless. After catching his breath, he quickly called Hermione, reminding her that his parents lived elsewhere. His father wouldn't be present at the meeting.
"Right this way, Dea," he instructed her, leading her down the corridor that led to his mother's tearoom. His heart was soundly thumping, her nervousness overtaking his own calm demeanor. Draco had to stop outside the door, his hand gently resting on her shoulder to prevent her from going farther. "Hermione, you will be fine, I promise you. Please, calm yourself."
"R-right, I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice coming out as no more than a mere wisp, "but really, the discomfort you're feeling is entirely your fault."
"Yes, I realize this," Draco sighed out, his shoulders slouching as his hand went to his face, "I-I wasn't blaming you, Hermione. Let's head inside."
"Okay," the witch agreed with a nod. Draco gave a light knock on the door before stepping into the room. His mother was perched on her chaise, poised as strictly as ever, but Draco could tell she was actually rather relaxed. The Malfoy matriarch had just gone through countless hours and days being trained in her etiquette. Narcissa stood, her hands poised in front of her stomach as she approached them.
"Miss Granger, you have been doing well, I hope?" The blonde woman questioned, a warm smile gracing her features as she nodded to the young witch.
"I have been doing very well, thank you—and," Hermione answered, but then continued, "it is Granger-Weasley, Mrs. Malfoy."
"Oh, my— really?" Draco groaned, his face screwing up in disbelief and turning to the brunette standing next to him. "You couldn't let it go with my mother, at least?"
"Hush now, Draco," Narcissa softly chided, swatting at her son, "if that is how she would be addressed then that is how I will do so. Do not tell me you have been going against her wishes."
"Wha—I," the wizard stumbled over his words, not quite sure how to answer that. By the disapproving gaze he was receiving from his mother's blue eyes, he knew he didn't have to say anything else and merely gave a heavy sigh. He began to speak, but his voice turned more into a mumble partly way through, "Mrs. Granger—ugh, sweet Salazar I cannot believe I'm about to say this. Mrs. Granger- Weasley, would you care to have a seat?"
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," the brunette bubbled out cheekily, a sly smirk playing across those peony lips of hers. The blond narrowed his steel eyes on her, the muscles in his jaw fighting the smile that was trying to show through.
"Then, please, ma'am, right this way," Draco tersely drawled out, one hand resting on her back and the other gesturing towards the chairs near the large window. As the witch stepped forward, despite the slight amusement she was feeling, the nervousness was back, making his fingers flex to attempt to sooth her. "Honestly, how are you still so nervous? My mother isn't going to maim you—if anything I'm the one in her crosshairs. Damned etiquette."
"Language, Draco," Narcissa scolded as she carefully poured tea into a cup sitting in front of Hermione. She situated herself back onto her chaise, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress idly.
"Yes, of course, mother," he replied, his head shaking as he leaned over and kissed the top of her head, earning another swat from her. The wizard chuckled, taking a seat for himself, crossing his ankle onto his knee.
"Mrs. Granger-Weasley," Narcissa began, pausing to glance at her son who had scoffed under his breath, "Draco tells me you are working towards unity between our two communities."
"Y-yes, that's correct," the younger witch confirmed with a nod, her curls shifting about her shoulders. She watched as Narcissa sat back down, it was graceful—the most fluid movements she'd ever seen anyone use. It was somewhat mesmerizing.
"Would you be willing to tell me more about it in your own perspective?" The Malfoy matriarch gently prodded, tilting her head ever so slightly to show her curiosity. The more Hermione watched this woman—the more she listened to her, the more interested in her she became. How did she move that way, with such fluidity and precision?
"Thank you. Yes, of course," Hermione found herself answering despite having been lost. The young woman shook her head, clearing the proverbial dust from her mind. "The start of my plans, would merely have muggles, who discover our world deciding on whether they would like to retain their memories, or not. If not, after being informed what it would take to keep their memories, well they are simply obliviated.
"Those that decide that they will keep them, will have to go through courses, tests, and take an oath of secrecy. It's not as if I'm asking that we jump on the telly and tell the whole world at once," the brunette asserted, taking a sip of her tea. "That is really the simplified explanation of it. The courses would have them learning things such as our laws—our secrecy code being at the forefront, our officials, basic information of magical creatures, etc., etc., etc., basically things that will help them survive being exposed to our world. They will be tested, and upon having the sufficient knowledge they will be given—ugh, I hate the very idea of this, but they will be given a tattoo that has a secrecy oath worked into it.
"Considering I, myself, am branded—don't give me that look," Hermione interrupted herself to roll her eyes at Draco who had been giving her a disapproving glare. It was true, she was forever branded as a 'mudblood.' "I detest the very thought of branding another person, however, this tattoo can be removed once the final stages of my campaign are complete, because by then, hopefully our communities will just be united. I thought perhaps a ring or a bracelet in place of a tattoo, but I'm not quite sure if that would be effective or not."
"Hm, yes, I do see the unpleasant appeal to that aspect," Narcissa hummed out, "considering my son and husband forever have brands themselves—don't give me that look either. However, with there being so many traditionalists left, going about it that way—it can't be helped. Let's say the final stage comes to pass and our communities are finally co-existing, what is your vision?"
"Simply put, scenarios like Draco's hospital. Primary schools would accept all children, workplaces would hire either or, depending on their professional preferences. There are many possibilities," Hermione explained after a few moments in thought. "There's just so much that both communities can offer one another."
"Hm, I understand." Narcissa brought her teacup to her lips and took a small sip, her eyes trained to the side in the distance. "If you would accept, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I would like to extend the offer of my services. However, before a gala can be held, security has to be the sole priority. I do not need to allude to you the likelihood of a certain group being behind your attacks, correct?"
Hermione drew in a deliberate breath, steadily filling her lungs. Of course, she knew who was behind them—you would have to be an idiot to not realize. She had been dealt pain from them before, more specifically, the sister of the woman sitting across from her. Unsettling tendrils coiled into the young witch's mind, a sickening black, dripping with searing hatred and madness was twisting and gripping around her throat, cutting her oxygen off as her heart went into a frenzy, gradually dying back down into a relaxed pitter. Hermione felt a cool hand on the back of her neck as her fingers went to her temple.
"Breath, Dea," she heard softly murmured near her ear. "She is dead."
"Yes, of course," Hermione shuddered out after forcing air into her lungs. "Draco."
"Yes, ma'am," he nodded his head and reclaimed his seat. "I will, of course, do everything possible concerning security for Mrs. Granger-Weasley's gala, mother."
"Very well," his mother inclined her head, her eyes settling on him with a quirked brow. ' What is this?' She was silently asking him, in which he replied, ' another time.'
"If you'll excuse us, mother," Draco stood once more, offering his hand to the brunette attempting to nurse a migraine, "I should be escorting Mrs. Granger-Weasley home."
"Yes, of course. My apologies for bringing up something so delicate, dear," Narcissa gave her a sympathetic smile as she stood with them, "I will begin planning right away. Please, send over anything you would like incorporated via owl or Draco."
"You're fine, Mrs. Malfoy," the brunette assured her with a weak smile, "if I think of anything later, I'll be sure to send it. Thank you, for your support."
"It is my pleasure. Do take care," the Malfoy Matriarch bade her farewell, squeezing her shoulder gently before lightly patting her son's cheek. "Be a dear and come see your poor mother more often."
"Yes, mother," Draco chuckled, giving her a quick peck on the temple and beginning to escort Hermione out of the room. "I'll see you later. Love you."
The wizard Disapparated them back to his home, she needed a moment to gather herself before he allowed her to go off Apparating anywhere. The witch's hand slipped from his arm, dropping limply to her side as she took a staggering step away from him, crumpling to her hands and knees. Draco watched as she swayed from side to side before she lowered her chest to her knees to stop herself from seemingly moving everywhere. He felt sick to his stomach, a grotesque nausea was overtaking him as he watched her, feeling her disorienting emotions. It had been eleven years and she was still so deeply haunted by that incident.
"Here, drink this," Draco quietly urged, his voice coming out as a quivering mess as he held a summoned Draught of Calming for her. He knelt to the floor, an arm gently wrapping around her waist to gingerly pull her up and lean her back against him. His hand raised the vial to her lips, letting her take her time sipping on the liquid. The house was silent, save for her ragged breaths drawing past her lips and the pounding in Draco's ears.
He had never held her like that before, had never been close enough to her besides during training. Draco felt himself shaking in anger and agony that the first and probably only time he would ever feel her wrapped in his arms was because the people he despised most. They still terrorized her and there was not a bloody thing he could do about it. One swift Obliviate would save her from the pain in the future, but he could never do that to her, she is so much stronger in spite of the pain. The blond found himself absolutely helpless as he silently soothed his Dea, sitting on the floor with her tightly held against his chest.
"I-I better get going," Hermione whispered after ages, gently pushing up off Draco's chest. She felt his hands on her hips as he helped her stand, lifting her up with no effort at all. As her eyes glanced down, the witch seen for the first time his dedication to her, it was displayed freely on his face in the moment. There was a rage in his eyes, but it was far more outweighed by sadness, determination, and an emotion Hermione was afraid to touch upon. His hands caught hers before she could step farther from him.
"Do not hesitate to call me," Draco pled in a throaty tone, placing a tender kiss on her palm. "At any time, you need to, you're allowed to Apparate over."
"Thank you, Draco," the witch offered him a weak smile, her hands pulling from his and gently cupping the sides of his neck. Draco's greys widened as he watched the brunette lowering herself, feeling her soft hands on either side of his burning neck. They were so delicate, he'd imagined them on him so many times, a slight graze on his cheek, or a simple squeeze of his arm, and when his mind couldn't take hiding his thoughts away, they'd be in far more risqué positions, making him quiver with want for his mistress. His throat constricted as his eyes closed, her lips were pressed against his cheek, making his hands clench into fists with a crack of his knuckles at his sides, fighting his urge to just grab onto her and not let go. "Thank you, for everything you do, Draco."
"Th-thank you, Dea," Draco nearly gasped out. She was thanking him? Did he even deserve that from her? Her previous expressions of gratitude were merely polite, this was sincere and so much more, he felt it in his chest.
"I'll be going now. See you later," she said before walking to the door and Disapparating. After a few moments sitting in shock, Draco pushed himself off the floor, straightening himself up. The wizard had planned on going to find out what was in her memory he extracted, it was taking far too long for Zabini to review it. Unfortunately, he would have to submit a request for an international portkey and wait for it to be issued, which would take several days.
"Hello, my loves," Jane greeted her daughter and the babies with a wide grin, immediately scooping Hugo away from his mother. "Come in, darling. How has your governess been working out for you?"
"She has been great—oh, the work I have been able to get done. I gave her the evening off to go visit family," Hermione explained as they took a seat in the family room. Her father was beaming in triumph. "Yes, daddy, you win."
"A-ha, I knew it," he chuckled, holding a finger up. "Anyroad, your mother tells me your physical training is going great. I would never have guessed Draco knew martial arts."
"I'm sorry— who now?" Ron asked his eyes darting to Hermione. Silent swears ran through the witch's head as her eyes drifted to her father's. He didn't seem surprised by her husband's reaction. Oh, daddy, no , Hermione silently chastised him.
"Hermione?" Ron cut through her thoughts, reaching over and giving a gentle pull of her jaw to have her look at him. She took a calming breath and exhaled in a sigh.
"Malfoy has been teaching me martial-arts, Ron," she revealed, shifting on the sofa to better look at him. He simply blinked at her, staring with his jaw set.
"And how long has this little arrangement been going on?" Ron asked quietly, his fingers intertwining together. He wasn't believing what he was hearing.
"I don't know-" Hermione began, but was interrupted.
"Do not lie to me, 'Mione," his voice shook as he stared at her.
"Had you not interrupted me, I was going to guess seven months," she told him in a reprimanding tone.
"All this time? And you've been hiding it from me," he accused, glaring at her.
"Well, look how you're acting, Ronald," the brunette stated, gesturing towards him, her head shaking. "You can barely keep the anger out of your voice—and don't tell me it's because I've been going off with some man training. I told you I had a personal trainer. I just didn't tell you who, so you didn't act like this. Whenever he is concerned, you get far too heated."
"Are you fucking kidding me, Hermione? The fucking ferret, really?" Ron growled out, his voice cracking. He'd thought the woman had gone absolutely barkers.
"Ron, it is only training," Hermione explained with a shake of her head. The scarlet haired man abruptly stood, looking down at her with his brows furrowed.
"No, no, it's not just training. Don't think I haven't noticed the random gifts that show up on your birthday, or Christmas. Then an anonymous donor just miraculously offers to pay for your surgery and requests Malfoy takes you on as a patient. I'm not stupid, 'Mione," Ron sneered. "Have you been seeing him all this time?"
"Well, that is very well debatable with that question," the witch scoffed, standing with her hands on her hips. "You really think I would cheat on you?"
"It's certainly where all the evidence points." Ron threw his hands up with a shrug. "Have you forgotten everything he has done to you? And you're still seeing him?"
"Well, the evidence is just from a friend that I've had to hide because you have such a toxic hatred of the man. I am the one he tormented in school, Ron, not you. I forgave him years ago, when he came to apologize to me for all the wrongs he'd done. Draco is not who he once was, he has changed."
"He watched while you were tortured, Hermione!" Ron roared, his voice shaking as he glared at her. Hermione swallowed, feeling her heart begin to race. "He stood there and did nothing to help you while you screamed for anyone to help you and he watched, along with the rest of them."
"Ron, he had no choice, if he had tried to help me, they would have done the same thing to him—or worse," Hermione stated, her voice shaking as she spoke. There was a pain in her temple. Her phone began to ring, but she ignored it.
"Is that him?" Ron questioned, a bite in his tone.
"I don't know, I don't have my phone out!" She threw her hands in the air, but that was a lie—she knew very well it was him. He was calling to be sure she was all right and she thought perhaps she wasn't all right at all, but Ron was really pushing her.
"I would have taken the torture for you gladly that day, even died for you, 'Mione," Ron brought the conversation back. Neither of them heard the faint knock at the door as they shouted back and forth at each other. "I couldn't, I was locked in the dungeon. While he stayed nice and safe next to his mum."
"You think they were safe?" Hermione choked out. Her arms were crossed over her chest, she was beginning to feel stuck in place. "You're right, you were locked away in the dungeon. So, that means you couldn't see what they were really doing or what they looked like. Narcissa looked like she wanted to be sick.
"The Malfoys are always so bloody cool and collected, you can't read a damned thing on their face, but I could that day. It was just a flicker, but I saw the way she was devastated that she couldn't help. And Draco looked away! So, no, Ron, Draco did not watch me get tortured," she scowled at him, actually being very upset that he was pinning this blame on the blond.
"Oh, yeah, that suddenly makes up for him not doing a fucking thing to help you, right?" He asked with an incredulous laugh. "He was just being a godsdamned coward!"
"He was right to do so! Had he helped me they would have tortured him, or killed him—or worse, tortured his mother in front of him," Hermione was whispering by now, not able to stomach the conversation, especially since she had just had an episode the day before, not realizing she was shivering with aches jutting all through her body. "I would never be able to watch my mum—why do you think I did what I did and sent them away? He didn't have that luxury, though. His mother was right there and Draco loves his mother very much."
"Granger," a low baritone came from the archway in the family room leading to the corridor. The witch gasped, jumping as her eyes whipped over. Draco was standing there next to her mother and father, who were staring on in shock. He muttered something to her mother and she was off quickly towards the kitchen. "What are you doing having this conversation, witch?"
"Stay out of this, Malfoy," Ron bit out at the blond that was striding into the room towards her.
"Shut the hell up, Weasel," Draco lowly demanded, pointing at him without even looking back at him. He put his hands on either side of Hermione's shoulders and was carefully guiding her back to sit on the sofa. "Dea, I need you to look at me, come on. Start with a deep inhale through your nose and hold it for five seconds—one, two, three, four, five. Slowly exhale out your mouth.
"Good, good, one more time. Inhale—one, two, three, four, five and exhale. There we go, good job. Thank you, Jane," Draco mumbled out as he accepted a glass of water for her. "Drink this, Hermione."
It was quite a few minutes of thick palpable silence as Hermione drank her water. The witch was trying to get her head to stop feeling so foggy, it felt like there was a pressure with that fog. The aches in her body still faintly felt like they were there, like they were ghosts of her pain. She no longer felt sickeningly shaky, no longer had a racing heart that made her feel on fire, yet cold at the same time.
"Here, sip on this draught," the healer instructed, holding a vial out to her. Hermione nodded weakly, taking the vial between her fingers, but it slipped through them. Draco quickly caught it, holding the vial up to her lips so she could slowly take the potion. The wizard heard a cord in the weasel's throat thrum the slightest vibration, making Draco send a silent Silencio with a wave of his hand. "I said, 'quiet, Weasley.'
"How are you feeling now?" He lowered his voice to a softer hum. The blond gazed up at the witch, observing how drained she looked. She kept taking in large dregs of air, which turned into yawns due to her lungs having been trying to prevent her from accepting air before. A faint nod finally met him.
"B-better, thank you, Draco," Hermione whispered, leaning over and resting her head in her hands. Her head still felt full of pressure. "My head feels strange, though."
"That comes with the fatigue from CC tremors," Draco explained quietly, gently massaging her head.
"What's that?" She questioned through a mumble; eyes squeezed tight.
"Cruciatus Curse tremors," he replied simply. "Jane, can you take over?"
"Yes, of course," the woman rushed out before sitting next to her daughter and pulling her head to her lap so she could continue to massage her head. Draco stood, venom in his eyes as he wheeled on Weasley who was looking on in the same rage.
"Kitchen, now," left in a tight order as he pointed in the direction of the kitchen and spun on his heel to head that way himself. Once he stepped through the threshold, he was casting a silent Muffliato on the room. As the red-headed wizard stepped through, Draco whipped around at him, his hand launching out and gripping his throat, sweeping his leg and pivoting to send him crashing to the floor in the middle of the room. William had stepped through, raising his brows.
"Take it easy, now, son," he cautioned the wizard, holding his hand out.
"I'm fine, William," Draco sighed out. He was unmeasurably furious, to say the least. The blond knew well enough to stay in check, though. "Unlike the weasel, I can keep my cool. Get up, moron.
"I don't know what, in Salazar's name, started that little chat, but it needs never happen again," he warned Weasley, pointing towards the family room.
"Why, Ferret—afraid to hear the truth? The truth being how you watched as they tortured her, carved her up, had her screaming for her life, and you did nothing. You stood there, like the coward you are," Ron bit out, sneering at the wizard he stepped up to, daring him to try anything.
"Here's the thing, Weasel, I don't give two Phoenix tears what you have to say about me, nor do I care what you think about me. All that matters, is the witch in that room—do I make myself clear? Have I dumbed it down enough for your sloth brain to follow?" Draco quizzed calmly, not moving a millimeter when the other was attempting to intimidate him. "You cannot have that discussion with her because it sends her into a debilitating state.
"Or were you so gone in your rage about who the fuck knows what that you didn't realize your wife was displaying strange behavior?" He questioned, angrily staring at the redhead. "Let me fill you in on the terrifying sight I walked into. She wasn't moving—low to no movement is a sign of a CC tremor, she was trembling—as if she was put under the fucking curse itself. I'm betting she was feeling phantom pains all throughout her body—creating a wave of heat through her as her heart sped and that caused sweat to secrete and become freezing all the same, she had stopped drawing air in—her chest wasn't rising or falling and that can be caused purely by stress, and finally the lack of oxygen can cause headaches, fatigue, and difficulties speaking, and if not addressed immediately, can cause brain damage. So, I don't care why the topic comes up in the future, you steer clear of it and change the subject, understand?"
Ron didn't answer the wizard standing a few millimeters shorter than him. He hadn't known she gets like this when that day was mentioned. They didn't talk about it often, and it was always brief, so he never knew this was her reaction to a lengthy conversation concerning it. The red-head hated that it was Malfoy bringing it to his attention. It was clear this man felt more than friendship for Hermione and that didn't settle right with him in the least bit—it was like he was obsessed with her.
"I hadn't ever known she got like this, we don't talk about that day," Ron informed him, his voice wavering from his anger. "Let me make one thing clear for you, Ferret—stay the fuck away from my wife."
"And leave her completely in your care?" A bitter laugh wrenched itself from Draco's throat. "Not bloody likely, Weasel. While with you, she has been heartbroken twice, collapsed from overworking herself, you nearly let her wand hand suffer over your pride, and sent her into an episode—probably out of selfish reason. When she is ready for me to fuck off, that is the day I will leave—not when you tell me to."
"I mean it, Malfoy. You back the fuck off," the towering man narrowed his eyes on Draco, a rage beginning to rebuild. The blond drew in a shaky breath. How badly he wanted to put this sod in his place, but he couldn't, thanks to the woman in the other room.
"Don't get cocky, Weasley," he told the troll, a sneer on his face. "The only reasons why I haven't put you down tonight, is the witch in that room and the children. I'm through with this conversation, it's going nowhere."
"That was your last warning, Malfoy," Ron called out to the wizard leaving the room, following after him. Draco ignored him as he continued down the corridor, stepping into the family to check on her. She was sitting up once more, leaned back against the sofa with her eyes closed. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of their footsteps.
"Everything all right?" Hermione questioned, looking at the blond and her husband who had been following after him. They didn't look like they had been in a fight, Ron wasn't a bloodied mess.
"Everything is right as rain, Dea," the blond mumbled to her. He stepped closer to her, leaning over to check her vitals. Having been satisfied with her being stable now, he stood upright, putting a hand on her head. " Please, try not to push your luck for the next few days, I'll be going to Italy. Zabini is taking far too long to review your memory for my liking.
"Are you okay for me to go now, or do you want me to stay?" He asked quietly as his fingers dug into her hair. She wanted him to stay, but she knew that was a terrible idea.
"You can go, Draco," she whispered up to him with a small smile. "Thank you, for coming."
"Of course, Dea," he affirmed, taking a hand in his and kissing her knuckles before he was turning to leave the house. He was receiving quite the murderous expression from the weasel. Draco merely laughed through his nose. "Call me if you need anything, Granger. I'll try to make this a quick trip."
"Safe travels, Draco," Jane called out for her daughter who hadn't spoken loudly enough. The blond left the house and they heard a faint crack outside, leaving a silence in the house. Ron was standing by the archway staring at her, anger clear in his eyes yet. This is ridiculous, Hermione said to herself.
"I think it'd be best you don't come back to the house tonight, Hermione," Ron told her, keeping his voice as calm as possible. The witch could have laughed if she weren't so tired —he was kicking her out. He had no damned right to do that, especially with how he's been acting.
"You think—fine, you know what, that's perfectly fine, Ronald," came out in a rather cross tone. Hermione pulled out her phone and began dialing Draco's number.
"Dea, what's the matter now?" Draco answered with a sigh.
"Nothing really, I was just wondering if you could possibly spare a room for the kids and I ton-," Hermione began to quietly ask the baritone voice on the other side.
" What?" Ron interrupted her with a near growl. "You're not taking the kids there."
"You actually thought you could kick me out and keep my children?" She demanded, her voice coming out a bit louder now.
"He what?" Came from over the phone before the call was ended.
"Like hell I'll let you take them over to his place," the scarlet-haired man contended, picking Rose up. When they had first started shouting, Jane had removed the children from the room. She seemed to think that it was over and brought them back into the family room.
"You're not taking Rose, Ron," Hermione warned weakly. There was a resounding crack in the corridor of the Granger home, Draco had come back after leaving not even three minutes ago. It seemed he was not okay to leave yet. His eyes landed on Hermione's hazels and picked up on her direction of sight. Coincidentally, he jumped near the weasel. Rosie squealed, a wide smile on her precious face while reaching out for the blond, muttering 'want D'aco, want D'aco.'
"Hello, again, my little rosebud," Draco cooed, casting a silent Immobulus on Weasley so he could collect the little girl from him without any trouble. Rosie giggled, burying her hands in Draco's silky mane, pulling at the locks. "There you go again, tugging at my hair. William, Jane."
"You didn't have to trouble yourself coming back, you know?" Hermione whispered, accepting her little girl from the blond wizard.
"It's no trouble at all, Hermione," he assured her, his hand gently petting the top of her head. "So, what is this about Weasley kicking you out?"
"He was saying he thinks it's best if I don't come back to the house tonight," the witch sighed out, lethargically wrapping her arms around her daughter. "I think I am inclined to agree with him."
"If you think that is what's best," Draco said in a lowered voice, removing his hand from atop her head and turning to take a look at the fuming man. The blond sighed and rubbed the back of his neck before lowering himself onto the sofa to wait for the Lincoln. "I just don't know what you were thinking, Weasley. I'm going to break the spell, though. Don't do anything rash—remember, your children are still in the room."
"He is awfully familiar for someone you're not seeing and just training with, 'Mione," Ron growled out. The blond's brows rose. So, that was why the topic came up earlier, the weasel was reminding her of Draco's failure.
"What an idiot," he muttered under his breath with roll of his greys, landing on his Dea to the side. She gave him a disapproving look, making him sigh. Draco crossed his ankle over his knee in thought. "Hermione and I are friends, Weasley. Surely you have people you're merely—friends with."
There was a silence as the two men stared at one another. Ron's demeanor seemed to change somewhat, his hand unclenched and his shoulders lowered, but you could still see the rage in his eyes. Draco had never felt the need to tell the woman sitting next to him, but like for everything in her life, he has had someone tailing the weasel. The scarlet haired man has been seen acting rather cozy with a single mother who came and went from the joke shop. The two would often get coffee—of course, there's nothing wrong with friends grabbing coffee together.
"I wouldn't say there's anything wrong with two friends training together, or visiting one another at their place of work, or even grabbing coffee together, would you, Weasley?" Draco asked, his tone inclining as his hand went to his knee. At the man's continued silence, the blond turned his head to observe Hermione. "Danielle is preparing the guest bedroom for the three of you, Dea. The Lincoln is coming to pick the three of you up, I'll stay until it gets here."
"Thank you, Draco," Hermione sighed, snuggling Rose closer to herself.
"Of course, Dea," he softly stated, inclining his head. "Was there anything else you needed of me?"
"Oh, yes, would you notify, Selena where to go?" The witch began to shake her head, but then she remembered their governess.
"Yes, right away, Dea," Draco agreed before standing to leave the room, stopping near the red-head and lowering his voice. "Perhaps, Weasley, you should take this time to reflect on what it is you want, and what it is Hermione wants, and decide if they coincide."
Malfoy's words ran through Ron's mind. Of course, he knew what their wants were—they use to be similar, have a family and good career. Hermione wanted more, having a good career wasn't good enough for her. Then Ron wanted more family, which made Ron think of Anita—a woman who visited the shop quite often, someone, apparently, Malfoy knows about. Ron had never crossed the line with Anita, they were simply friends, but the two spent hours talking at a café together during his lunch breaks—they talked about everything.
The blond advanced down the corridor to call Hermione's governess, leaving behind a torrent of mixed, silent emotions—rage being the forerunner. Hermione sat with her parents, not really sure what to make of Draco being so familiar with her mum and dad either, it wasn't like they visited them together. The only explanation would be that he showed up on his own, or her parents invited him over for tea. Considering what the blond's profession was, that was the most likely answer, picking his medical and scientific mind. The witch had to get her incessant need for knowledge from somewhere, she supposed.
"So, do the two of you just invite Draco over for tea every once in a while, then?" Hermione quietly pondered aloud, glancing at her guilty looking parents.
"Oh, I'm sorry, darling," Jane simpered, glancing away to Hugo. "Draco's work is just so fascinating. He utilizes muggle methods with magical touches."
"Even the equipment his medical center has, are reworked muggle inventions," William awed, with an enthusiastic nod to his wife. "We wanted to know more, about how it all works."
"I'm just a little upset that you didn't tell me these visits were going on, is all," Hermione noted to them, looking over at her husband. "There you have it; my parents are the reason he is so familiar with them. I still can't believe you think I would cheat on you. It's like you don't even know me."
"Maybe, I never have," Ron suggested after a few moments, a shoulder shrugging. After a few minutes of silence, Draco walked back into the family room.
"The Lincoln is here, Dea," he quietly informed her holding a hand out to help her up, which she accepted, but she didn't let him grab Rosie for her, nor Hugo's carrier that Jane prepared for her. He sighed and nodded. "I'll go on ahead and make sure everything has been taken care of before you arrive."
"Thank you, Draco," she said to him softly before he went to the corridor to Disapparate at a polite distance. Hermione gave her mother a kiss, along with her father before picking up Hugo's carrier. "I'm going to go ahead and get going, so I can get the children to bed."
"You're really going to stay over at that rotter's place?" Ron questioned, his tone as even as he could make it. Hermione was situating the carrier more comfortably on her arm.
"I wouldn't be having to stay anywhere if someone didn't jump the broom and tell me not to come home," the witch announced.
"You could have stayed with your mum and dad, but you jumped right to calling the Ferret!" Ron reminded her, pointing to where the blond had been last.
"Only because it would irritate you," she quipped, her shoulder rolling in a lazy shrug. "I love you two. We'll see you later."
"We love you, my darlings," Jane cooed, fussing over the children still.
"Call us if you need anything, princess," William said, although, he doubted she would need a thing.
"I will, daddy," she called over her shoulder as she began to leave the house. To her surprise, Ron grabbed Hugo's carrier, gestured to the door, and followed her out to the car. "Thank you."
"Yeah," he muttered. Once the kids were buckled in, the two stood staring at one another. Ron sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "I think, maybe, we need some time. I'll go stay at the Burrow, so you can stay at the house."
"We'll do every other week with the kids," Hermione added. After he gave a simple nod, the brunette slipped into the car and the driver was off. This is for the best, she told herself. As the Lincoln pulled into Draco's drive, she sighed, running her fingers under her eyes to hide the tears she'd been crying. A few moments later, the blond was stepping out of his house and coming down his sidewalk to help her.
"I-it's fine, I've got them," she mumbled when he started unbuckling Rose from her car seat. Draco merely nodded, letting her do as she pleased. It was hard to not want to do everything for her right now, especially with the way it felt like there was a blade in his chest, twisting and digging deeper with every second. He led her inside and up to the guest bedroom.
"I had Selena get a night bag prepared for you," Draco noted with a nod towards a bag on the bed. The witch nodded, setting Rose on the large bed. "Would you like some tea?"
"That would be great," came out much quieter than she intended. Hermione cleared her throat as she started to slip a fussing Hugo from his carrier. "I know, my sweetheart—we'll get you fed."
At that, the blond quickly slipped out of the room to go back down to his kitchen and put on a kettle. His hand absently went to his chest, pressing over his heart to try to ease the discomfort, he couldn't stand the fact that this was the way she was feeling right now—broken, lost, and somewhat a failure. Draco had no idea why she would feel like a failure, it's not like she wasn't trying all these years—sometimes marriages just don't work, especially when both parties want very different things from one another. He started steeping the tea when he seen Rosie dart past into the living room where Scorpius was playing with his blocks. Hermione was trailing behind her with Hugo.
"Now, you don't get to play for long, little girl," she chided the tot with a sigh at being ignored. The witch took a seat at the island to burp the baby. "It's not fair she'll listen to you."
"My novelty will eventually wear off and I'll be just like you," he chuckled, sliding her tea over. Draco eyed the woman sitting across from him as she absently stared at her daughter, her hand running over Hugo's back. He sighed and stepped around the counter, slipping the baby from her arms, his hand guiding hers to her cup before he started rubbing and patting the baby's back. "Have your tea before it cools, Dea."
"Right," she sighed, sipping on the liquid, it was chamomile and lavender—a concoction to help sooth her and help her sleep. Hermione sighed; he really did try taking care of everything. The brunette finished her tea in silence and she and the kids were soon off to bed. "Thank you, for letting us intrude, Draco."
"It's no intrusion at all, Dea," he assured her with a small smile and a kiss on the temple. "Goodnight, Hermione, get some rest."
"Goodnight, Draco." He watched the witch disappear behind their closed door and continued down the hall to put a dozing Scorpius in bed. He was wondering how long this break of theirs was going to last this time.