Chapter Ten
June 2013
The sun was still high in the early summer evening, glinting off Emilia's truck windshield. She fidgeted with her sleeveless navy blouse before returning her hand to the steering wheel. Her barely tamed curls that weren't captured in her bun swayed with her head nods to the music playing softly in the background. She hummed a little, trying to distract herself from the current situation.
It was Draco's birthday. He had said he didn't intend to celebrate it, which was completely unacceptable to her. She insisted they should have a not date dinner and she would cook for him at her house...in her sanctuary. Now that they were almost there her stomach clenched anxiously. It had been a long time since she had a man in her domain that wasn't a significant other or a member of her book club.
It would be fine, she reasoned. He would probably like her house. It was very tidy and well organized. Its eclectic feel suited her and Draco seemed to have very similar tastes.
The conversation with Michael from their first not date drifted across her mind. From the sound of it Draco also owned many books, enough to be considered a personal library as well...she hoped he would keep his comments on the number of books she owned to himself. He probably would. They had spent enough time together these past couple of months that he could tell she was quite apprehensive about bringing him.
She went to smooth her white pleated skirt, again, when Draco reached a hand over to stop her from letting go of the steering wheel.
"I can see the steam coming out of your ears, Emilia. Calm down. We're simply having dinner for my one and only thirty third birthday. No pressure to dazzle and amaze me while going all out on a fabulous meal."
Emilia's other hand smacked his playfully and he withdrew it with a chuckle.
"I don't host a lot of people in my home Draco, if you couldn't tell, let alone cook for them."
"You've made several meals for me already and they were all excellent. The only difference is the venue." Draco reasoned.
"Yes, well, said venue means a lot to me so choose your words wisely about my humble abode." Emilia's tone was threatening as she, at last, turned the truck down the road that led to her house.
Draco's attention was drawn toward their destination. A myriad of emotions played across his face, the most prominent was surprise.
"This is your home?"
Emilia's cheeks flushed as she pulled into her driveway and parked.
"Yes, this is my home."
Before them on a small hill rose a two story Victorian home. It was picturesque with a tall spire, two red chimneys, a wrap-around porch, delicate lattice work, and original stain glass decorating the top half of several window frames. It stood tall in its pearly white sheen, a contrast to the barely sprouting green corn and soybean fields that surrounded the home. Emilia sighed happily as she took in the view.
"Well, what do you think?" She side eyed Draco with a proud tilt of her chin, curious to hear his thoughts but also sure she would rebuff any negative opinions.
Draco's eyes roved critically over the structure, from the traditional rooster weathervane atop the spire down to the blooming wildflowers she planted the first year she moved in.
"It suits you. Interesting place to find a Queen Anne style structure. You practically live in the middle of nowhere, Emilia." He took in the surrounding area as he spoke.
"Yes, I had it moved here for that very reason." Emilia replied as she stepped outside the truck and closed the door.
It was true that her closest neighbor, a farmer with a sweet family, lived three miles down the road. The location she had placed the house made it look like a solitary gothic structure randomly jutting out of an otherwise unassuming landscape.
Draco's head appeared over the top of the cab.
"Moved? As in the actual house?"
She nodded.
"You moved your entire house out here? How?" Draco asked, intrigued.
"Magic." Emilia tried to keep her voice serious just to rile him up and it worked beautifully when his eyebrows furrowed.
She winked as she walked up the gravel path to her front door.
"I'm kidding. The house was in town. I hired a company to cut it in half, move it out here on flat beds, place it on a new foundation, and patch it back together."
Emilia unlocked the door and turned to motion for him to enter. He still stood where he was, his eyebrows now raised.
"That's the truth of it, actually. " She sincerely responded.
"You paid a company to cut your house in half, move it, then cobble it back together?" Draco concluded.
"Yes," she said slowly, "that's the gist of it."
"Why not build something similar instead? Wouldn't that be more cost effective than moving and renovating an entire house?" His questions made it seem like he was genuinely interested in her choice.
Emilia shook her head as she placed a hand lovingly on the oak door frame.
"I fell in love with this house the moment I stepped over the threshold. It felt...familiar? Like, somewhere I would have lived before. You know, classic structure, large fireplaces, and such. I wanted it to be where I wanted to live. This acre was one of the first things I purchased when I moved here. It was worth the price to move the house here and I couldn't replicate the level of craftsmanship that existed before. It wouldn't be the same."
Emilia ran her hand intimately over the lacquered wood, appreciating the beauty she found here. She realized then how silly yet easily misconstrued the moment could be. She cleared her throat.
"Shall we?" She questioned.
Draco still made no move to join her. Instead, he stood transfixed, watching her.
"Have I mentioned how ravishing you look today?" His voice was tight as his eyes trailed appreciatively from the top of her curly bun, down her curves, all the way to her brown sandals.
Emilia gave a little spin, the skirt fanned around her knees in a soft bell shape.
"Thank you Draco. I had to step up my game from jeans and a t-shirt to match your black trouser, pressed oxford shirt look. Now, stop hitting on me and come into my house so you can tease me about my infamous book collection."
Draco guffawed. He only took a few steps before he stopped abruptly. His gaze shifted to the ground of her driveway, moving slowly upward until he stared into the blue sky just above her house's spire. He looked...puzzled. Emilia's head tilted to the side, observing his strange behavior.
"Draco, are you coming in?"
Draco's eyes dropped and stared searchingly into her face, not speaking for several seconds.
"I...I'm not sure I can." He admitted.
Emilia rolled her eyes and marched down the steps toward him.
"I was only teasing earlier when I seemed reluctant to have you in my house. I promise I am very happy to invite you in and make dinner for your birthday. I will even allow a few flirty banters during our meal. Come on."
Emilia slipped her hand into Draco's, their fingers laced together. She noticed since the incident with Serendipity that the weird pulling sensation had stopped constantly urging her practically fall all over him when they were close. Instead, it seemed to have settled down to a constant mummer of contentment that would ebb and flow, especially when they were around each other or touching.
"Please?" Emilia pleaded.
Draco's lips thinned, his eyes searched hers before he glanced once more toward her house.
"...Alright."
Emilia smiled brightly and pulled Draco along. She could feel his feet walking sluggishly at first, almost as if he resisted being led. Her foot hit the first step of her porch when he suddenly tumbled forward, almost falling into her. He caught himself on one of the pillars framing the steps that held up the roof. She turned quickly to help steady him.
"Draco! Are you ok?"
He nodded, straightened himself, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"I apologize, I think I tripped." He explained.
Emilia raised an eyebrow in disbelief but he seemed unharmed so she let it go. They both ascended the stairs. His fingers slipped from hers just as they began to walk to the door. She looked back to see that his attention was now drawn down to her front steps.
"Draco?"
She watched his head tip skyward once more before he shook it and turned to face her, laughing.
"It's nothing, really. An embarrassing clumsy moment on my part. I'm impressed with the view here, Emilia. I can see why you quite like it."
"Wait until you see the backyard." She said, pleased.
Without further prompting Draco and Emilia entered her home. A cool breeze washed over them as they escaped the summer heat. He stood in her foyer, taking in his surroundings with another critical eye.
It was, as Michael said, a library more than a house. Almost all the rooms that could be seen were covered from floor to ceiling with book cases. Every accessible wall space held a bookshelf or had one built into it. Many shelves were full but there was plenty of empty space left to expand the collection. Emilia had kept many of the home's original oak accents. She moved to stand beside Draco after closing the door and his gaze returned to her.
"I see that Michael was not exaggerating when he said your house was a private library."
She shrugged, unfazed.
"Decorating is not my strongest skill."
Emilia swept her hand to the room at their right.
"Would you like a tour before dinner?"
Draco nodded and entered the room. She explained how the main floor had, in fact, been curated to be like her own personal library. What little decorating she did was inspired by a replica French style cottage she stayed in during a ski trip near Belleayre Mountain in college. Everything was soft colors, traditional yet plush cream furniture, beautiful blue and white Dutch tiles, and flowers from her garden to bring a pop of vibrancy.
Emilia ushered him up the intricately carved staircase to the second floor which was less spectacular than the main floor. It was decorated much the same with fewer rooms. Only two guest bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and her own bedroom were on this floor.
"May I?" Draco brushed his hand over the knob of the only closed door which led to her bedroom.
"Of course." She affirmed, allowing Draco to open the door, then followed him inside.
Emilia's bedroom was very bright. Painted a soft powder blue she remodeled the room so it took up half of the upstairs footprint. She took care to gussy up this room, including a small white wicker furniture set in the sitting area where she kept all of the books she was currently reading on a smaller bookshelf. Draco slowly spun in place, taking in the local watercolor artworks that decorated the walls with scenes like a buffalo herd running across a sunset lit creek, an eagle soaring high above a wheat field, and an abstract painting of three children sitting together around a fire.
Draco stepped over to her bed and reached out to slightly lift an ornate item that hung on her headboard, examining it closely. It was made of leather, sinew, beads, and feathers woven in a complex pattern to create a beautiful piece.
"It's a dream catcher. Mona made it for me to help me sleep. The woven sinew catches the good dreams and the holes siphon out the bad ones." Emilia explained as she smiled fondly at the thoughtful gift.
Draco hummed quietly before setting it gently down. He turned to face her.
"Emilia, your home is very lov-"
His voice cut short and his eyes stared past her for several seconds. Her gaze eventually shifted over her shoulder to find out what he was staring at. Damnit. She forgot to close her personal bathroom door and it was a mess, especially the countertop. She walked a few steps back and quickly closed the door.
"Sorry about that. It's just my private bathroom and I haven't had a chance to clean it yet. Shall we go back downstairs? Dinner is almost ready."
Draco opened his mouth to reply but she exited the room, leaving him no choice except to follow her.
Once downstairs Emilia made her way back to the kitchen. She pulled out her oven mittens from a drawer and peeked inside the oven, nodding to herself.
"Almost ready." She muttered.
Draco leaned on his elbows against the island in the middle of the kitchen, watching her as she scurried about. She pulled out a set of plates, wine glasses, cloth napkins, and silverware.
"So, are you setting the table or opening the wine?" She asked while she leaned over in search of a large bowl in her lower cupboards.
"The wine of course." Draco replied, as if there were any other answer.
Emilia peeked under her arm and saw Draco was staring at her bent over backside. She rolled her eyes, choosing to indulge the flirt by saying nothing before moving to her wine fridge. She selected a delicious red wine she picked up at a local winery in the Black Hills with Mona last summer.
She held out the bottle and a corkscrew to him.
"Have at it. Would you mind pouring a glass for me now?" She requested, returning to her flurry of work.
Emilia opened the fridge and removed a salad she had prepared before retrieving Draco. She added a homemade raspberry vinaigrette and candied walnuts then mixed it all together.
A glass of the red wine appeared beside her elbow and she lifted it, turning to face Draco with a smile.
"Happy birthday Draco." Emilia cheered, raising her glass.
"Thank you, Emilia."
They clinked glasses together before taking a small, testing sip. Emilia nodded in approval at the delicious tart taste. She led him back to her small glass dining room table and forced him to sit while she set their places.
She kept trying to start a conversation about random things but Draco's attention was distracted at best, watching her lean over the table to place the cutlery before him. Emilia told herself it was his birthday and she did say she would allow him to flirt with her...although, he was definitely taking advantage of the situation with his open gawking. She would be lying to herself though if she didn't acknowledge that despite her insistence that they were at friend status only she was growing to enjoy and look forward to their flirtatious banter immensely.
She finished setting the silverware on the table when the timer chimed from the oven. She slipped the oven mittens on before she pulled out a large oval roaster, a tray of rolls and a smaller glass Pyrex. She took a few minutes to fuss over the food, making sure the roasted chicken was cooked all the way through and placing the rolls artfully in the bowl she had found earlier. Satisfied, she opened the cupboard next to her, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to reach her white platter on the second to the top shelf.
"Allow me."
She jumped at Draco's voice, not realizing he was standing directly behind her and extremely close. His chest brushed lightly against her back as he leaned over her head to grip the dish.
Emilia's pulse fluttered at their nearness. The pull which had been very calm thus far suddenly thrummed forcefully in time with her heartbeat, making it feel like electric arcs were dancing across her skin in time with its beating. Draco set the platter down before her, his arms encircled her to hold the platter as he did.
"Thank you Draco." She smiled affectionately back at him, attempting to ignore the heavy look he was giving her.
Emilia nudged one of his arms aside and stepped out of his presence, starting the process of plating the food from the roaster. She took several silent, calming breaths as the pull settled back down into a quiet purr. Draco said nothing further but returned to his seat, watching her fixedly while she worked to avoid his damnable grey eyes.
At last, she laid her hard work out on the table before them.
"So, you said you didn't care what we ate but I think you will like this. I made dinner rolls, a spinach feta salad with raspberry vinaigrette, roasted garlic chicken with mixed vegetables, and funeral potatoes."
"I-wait, what was that last one?" Draco's eyebrows lifted.
"Funeral potatoes." Emilia repeated.
Draco stared at her blankly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"What? That's what they're called. It's a casserole." She said defensively.
"Did someone die and this is some morbid way to commemorate their departure?" He questioned, unamused.
Emilia doubled over in laughter.
"Draco, of course not, it's just the name of the dish! There are lots of different types of casseroles. They are particularly popular in the Midwest at parties or events like funerals which is where I assume the name comes from. I don't know another name for them. That's what Mona has always called them. Try it, I think you'll like it, despite the name."
Emilia filled his plate and placed it in front of him. Draco looked everything over before eyeing the cheesy potato dish suspiciously.
He took a tentative bite of the casserole, chewing deliberately. His face gave nothing away.
"Well?" She asked, impatient as she settled into her own seat with a full plate.
His eyebrows raised.
"I have never tasted anything like this...but it's delicious."
"Oh good." She sighed in relief. "I'm glad I played it safe and stuck to the original recipe. I usually add cornflakes to the top but I didn't want to scare you too much."
"Do I want to know what cornflakes are?" His nose wrinkled in dislike.
"Well, generally they are a breakfast cereal but it gives the casserole a lovely crunch."
She shrugged as she took a large bite of chicken.
He looked repulsed.
"Now I question your cooking skills. That sounds absolutely vile."
She kicked her foot out lightly against his leg, scowling to emphasize her annoyance.
"Don't knock it until you try it. You just said they were delicious." She chastised.
They spent the remainder of the meal the same as they had been, the conversation flowing easily between them. Draco had her in tears with stories of his antics as a child trying to catch, of all things, peacocks only to be chased into his mother's skirts. She had him holding his stomach, head thrown back and laughing when she told him about the time during college she had accidentally left a cage full of bats door open only to have one fly into her hair. It felt...right having him here in her house.
Emilia sighed contently at her empty plate, pleased to see Draco was still being considerate of her by clearing his as well.
"Well, I suppose that means there's only one thing left to do." Emilia announced as she stood from the table, taking the plates and used silverware with her to the sink.
Draco topped off their wine glasses and took a healthy drink.
"What one thing?" He questioned, leaning comfortably back in his chair.
She didn't reply right away but a few moments later turned and relished the wide grin on his face when he realized what she was holding.
"Is that your chocolate cake?" He attempted to sound neutral but failed miserably.
"Of course. Here."
She set the cake, which sat on a cake platter, before him. In the middle of the cake she had placed a single white birthday candle.
"Happy birthday Draco...please don't make me sing for you." She teased, sitting back down.
Draco smiled fondly at her before reaching over and giving her knee a gentle squeeze.
"Heavens no. Your singing voice is like an injured banshee."
She pushed his hand off with a huff.
"Well, Draco, make a wish then and blow out the candle."
His light hearted face drifted to a grim look at her words. He stared in a daze at the candle for an uncomfortable length of time before blowing it out in a short puff. The mood sobered immensely.
"I...excuse me Emilia, I need the loo."
Draco rose from the table and walked toward the staircase. Emilia watched him go, wondering what on earth just happened.
Nicely done there Grainer you managed to somehow really upset him, she berated herself. Unable to sit and wait, Emilia retrieved her cake knife, two plates, and two forks. Her nervous hands busied themselves by cutting two pieces of the cake and serving them, setting a plate at each of their place settings.
Her fingers drummed and her lips tipped into a frown. What was taking him so long? Did Draco not remember where the guest bathroom was?
Concerned, Emilia made her way over to and up the stairs. Once on the second floor she knew immediately that Draco was not in the guest bathroom.
Her bedroom light was on and the door was slightly ajar. A feeling of trepidation trailed down her back as she pushed the door open.
She carefully glossed over the room but didn't see him. She was about to turn to search the other bedrooms when her gaze landed on Draco' profile inside her bathroom.
"Draco? What are you doing in here?" She bristled at him being in there when she had obviously closed the door to keep him out.
Emilia's eyes drifted over to what had captivated his attention only to see a small wooden crate on her counter that his hands were running over. Damnit, she forgot to put that away too. What the hell was she thinking?
"Emilia, what's this?" Draco's fingers gripped the wooden lid, pulling it aside without asking for permission to do so.
Emilia's mouth instinctively opened to tell him off for prying but her resolve fell away. She didn't want to fight with him and she did leave it out. It wasn't his fault for being curious. It was an odd item to just be laying around a bathroom. She stepped closer and leaned on the doorframe, her arms folded protectively over her chest.
"This? Well...I suppose now is as good a time as any. It has to do with my migraines." She rubbed her brow aggressively, wondering if this was a good idea to tell him now or if it would backfire.
Draco watched her, silently willing her to continue. Emilia sighed and let her hand drop back to her chest. Fuck it, she had promised she would tell him eventually. Might as well be now.
"I have a genetic mutation. It's nothing too serious but it makes me prone to migraines, memory loss, muscle weakness, and seizures. I take this medicine daily to help relieve the symptoms."
She bit her lip, waiting for him to say something.
Draco's gaze searched the contents of the small wooden box. Inside sectioned into twelve equally sized square slots were ten amber medicinal vials. Along the front of the box was another section the length of the crate that contained syringes, replacement droppers, and a rolled piece of paper. His attention was particularly drawn to the paper. He pulled it from its resting place and unfurled it.
"Maywell Apothecary in New York City makes this medicine for you?" His tone was dark but she couldn't understand why.
"Yes, they have since I was diagnosed at the recommendation of my specialist. They send me a yearly supply every April." Emilia explained.
"When were you diagnosed?" Draco asked, his eyes flitted up to her for a moment before returning to the paper.
Her brow narrowed in thought. It had been many years since then.
"I know it was winter time and definitely before I started at Cornell. Exactly when I'm not quite sure. I had a grand mal seizure in a park. They said it lasted for almost forty five minutes. My specialist believes that the first seizure is what triggered my genetic mutation symptoms and caused the major memory loss. It was a terrible time to be diagnosed with this but I am glad I was because I began treatment right away before things got worse."
Draco continued to scan the paper and Emilia watched his eyes absorb the information. She wanted to tell him it was quite useless as it was very generic information about the care, handling, and administration of the medicine. It didn't seem to her that he would be very receptive of the critique.
"Who is your specialist?" He quietly asked.
Draco's voice and eyes, which raised to meet hers again, conveyed how closely he was listening to her every word.
"Doctor Cho Chang."
She thought he swore under his breath as he looked back down.
Draco laid the paper beside the crate atop the discarded lid. It curled back around itself.
"May I?" He asked, gesturing to the sealed vials.
Emilia shrugged.
"I don't mind. I have to open a new bottle soon anyway."
Draco slipped one of the glass containers from its snug slot, analyzing it closely. It was unlabeled except with the Maywell Apothecary logo elegantly scrawled on the front of the dark vial in gold. He picked up one of the scalpels she left laying next to the box. Carefully, he cut the wax away from the cork and glass, expertly unsealing the bottle. Well, that confirmed he at least knew a little of his way around medicine.
He uncorked the bottle and peered inside, slowly swirling the liquid contents. He gave the cork a small sniff then dabbed his fingers against some of the medicine caught there. The muted cerulean blue liquid slipped easily between his fingers and began to show the lovely gold and ebony sheen it had when it was rubbed thin.
"Fuck."
Now she knew Draco swore under his breath.
"Is something wrong?" Confusion enveloped her voice.
With gentleness he replaced the cork in the vial and set it aside from the crate. His hands braced against her countertop as his sharp eyes took everything in before him.
"To be honest Emilia I'm not sure. I told you I work with pharmaceuticals and this...I need to make a phone call. Do you mind if I step outside?"
Emilia, a bit unnerved at his reaction, nodded her head.
"Of course. My back patio is right by the kitchen. The door is unlocked so it should slide open. Would you like me to show you?"
"No, I think I can manage to find it. Excuse me."
Draco turned sharply and strode purposefully out of the bathroom and bedroom. She noticed he had pocketed the bottle he had opened but she didn't think it wise to bring it up at this time.
After counting to sixty in her mind Emilia crept into her bedroom. The patio was covered by a tin roof but she was fairly confident she could hear from up here. Her fingers paused on the window sill. Did she want to do this...eavesdrop on a conversation he obviously didn't want her to hear?
...Well, he did barge into her bathroom.
Emilia's fingers gently pulled the window open a crack, soundlessly, and she knelt down. She pressed her ear against the gap. She could hear Draco as he paced across the wood planks below. His voice wasn't loud but he may as well have been shouting.
"Ginevra, I need to speak with Potter...I do not have time for your wiles about not contacting you in the last few weeks...Bloody hell woman this is important. Just get Potter...Potter...Yes, it is...Yes, the Maywell Apothecary...I would bet all my galleons it is my own...No, I don't know how mother...Fucking Chang! When was the last time you spoke with her...I see...No, I don't know...No, not yet...I have my reasons...Yes, I did...Right the apothecary...I will have to look into it further before I figure out the time frame...No, that is not a good idea until we-sod off Ginevra. You don't have a say nor do you have to like my decision on how best to handle this. Look, I will call you later this week."
Emilia picked her head up to watch as Draco rushed into her backyard, slipped the phone into his pocket, and buried his fingers into the platinum strands atop his head. He started pacing randomly across her lawn, his tension palpable from this distance. He even threw a fist out in angry punches a few times. She was completely baffled and concerned by his behavior.
Deciding it was probably pertinent for her to intervene, Emilia gradually made her way downstairs and out to her back patio. Draco had stopped pacing but was crouched on the ground, his back to the house, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, taking in the beautiful sunset.
With courage she didn't know she possessed, Emilia made her way over to him. She stood a few steps to his right, watching the blues and purples melt over the fading reds and oranges as the night sky began to overtake the day.
"Draco...is everything alright? Can you tell me what's wrong?" Emilia asked even though her heart knew the answer.
Draco sighed in frustration.
"Emilia, this is going to frustrate you beyond all reason especially with how I am reluctant to talk about the past...but I cannot say yet. I want to tell you everything but it would be premature to. I need to contact a few more of my colleagues and once they confirm my suspicions I promise I will tell you. I hope you understand."
Of course she didn't understand. She couldn't possibly understand why he wouldn't tell her right this minute what was going on when it obviously had something to do with her. Except she heard the silent plea in between his words.
Trust me.
"Is this about my genetic mutation?"
The silence between them was enough of an answer. They continued to watch as the sun sunk beneath the hills and the warm colors of day melted further into deep hues of late evening.
"Should I be worried, Draco?" Emilia questioned anxiously, turning to face him at last.
Draco shook his head.
"For the time being, no."
He looked up at her then. The sadness in his eyes was so consuming and soul crushing it completely robbed her of any breath.
"I am sorry Emilia...for everything."
Trust me.
It was apparently her night for brave decisions because Emilia stepped closer to Draco, knelt down, and wrapped her arms around him while her forehead came to rest on his shoulder. The pull sensation hummed softly beneath her skin, reassuringly.
"I didn't mean to ruin your birthday." She whispered into the soft fabric of his tailored shirt.
Emilia heard Draco snort. It was a few moments before he turned to melt his arms around her waist. He buried his face into her hair as he took a deep, steadying breath. She was fairly certain he kissed the top of her head.
"Actually, it has been one of the best birthdays I can remember. Thank you..."
Trust me.
She would.
Emilia huddled next to her friend, comforting him with her nearness as they watched the inevitable darkness surround them.
A/N: Thank you all for the comments, favorites, and follows on this story! I hope you are enjoying the story thus far.
Everyone should try funeral potatoes...they are the best especially with cornflakes.
Sincerely,
La