"Let her stay for the week. We can do Christmas at our house. And you can have some time to yourself." Narcissa expressed forwardly. She, Draco, and Rosalyn were now seated in a restaurant for lunch. The busy surroundings helped pull the older two from their sadness after visiting Hermione's grave. Rosalyn, however, seemed more lively than she had in a while.
"Hi, there! What can I get for you, friends?" A young witch, probably around sixteen, came up with a floating pad and a quill hovering beside her.
"Can I have the chicken tenders?" Rosalyn whispered to her dad.
He chortled and whispered back, "yes." How could he ever deny her simple things like chicken tenders? That was the least of his worries.
"I would like the number five, please, with chips," Rosalyn stated proudly.
Narcissa, of course, wasn't entirely used to the quality of food that Draco allowed his daughter to eat, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she ordered her meal (a grilled chicken salad) and a glass of wine. Draco settled on steak, and Butterbeer sounded appealing.
Draco looked back to Narcissa and sighed. He hadn't let his parents keep Rosalyn, but maybe twice, since Hermione had died, and that was only for a night at a time. He knew he should allow them to keep her more. But a whole week? That sounded asinine. At least when he went to work, he was able to come home to her. He knew it wasn't ideal, but once Hermione had gone, he had to hire a governess to help Rosalyn keep up with her studies and a nanny to keep up with her through the day until he got home, which had also been an issue to Narcissa, because she'd gladly watch Rosalyn. This wasn't true, but Draco said: "I think Mary, her nanny, said she wanted to take a Holiday. Perhaps you can come to stay with us for the week? And before Christmas, go home, and we will come over there? Does that sound fine to you?"
Narcissa wanted her son to be alone. He needed no distractions, no work, nothing. This was a time of mourning. His wife's Death Date was coming, and he needed to grieve her. And then she had plans for him afterward to get him back to semi-normal.
"Darling, please do this for us. Let us keep her. You know she will be fine. You should take some time from work and be alone for a little while."
Draco understood what she was saying, but he didn't want to heed her advice. Because why on earth would he take time off of work to not spend it with his child? Why would he take away the precious time he could spend with her? Ugh! He knew he was overthinking this. His parents did have a right to their granddaughter. They had been nothing but good to Rosalyn. And though it came as a surprise initially, they treasured Hermione so much. It took time for their relationship to flourish, but it was exemplary when it finally did.
He sat there, staring at his mug. He ran his finger up and down the hot ceramic. What would Hermione say to do? He wondered. Well, she would say to ask Rosalyn Jo what she wanted.
"Rosie," Draco said after a few moments. His daughter was fiddling with a tender, trying to decide which sauce she wanted to dip it in.
"Hm?" She answered, not taking her eyes from the ramekins.
"Would you like to stay for six sleeps, seven days, at Nan's and Granddad's?" Draco asked, feeling an overwhelming sadness in his chest.
Rosalyn looked up from her food and over at her father. She seemed to be having difficulty forming the words she wanted to say. "Will you... be alright without me if... I... go?"
Ooph! That hit hard. Draco, lost for words, glanced at Narcissa. She held unshed tears over her waterline, but she wouldn't look at him.
Fuck. He'd been selfish. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw began to ache, and the familiar film of bile bubbled at the back of his throat. He knew, at some point, he'd have to let Rosalyn go. He'd have to let her go to Hogwarts, even though he had looked into a full-time governess for the rest of her school career. He knew he had to let her live her life; Find her soulmate one day, make friends... Have her own family. And he hoped to Merlin that she wouldn't ever have to suffer another significant loss until he was old and decrepit.
"Yes, my love, Daddy will be just fine. I promise you." He hated lying to her. Because no, he wouldn't be. He would be going home and drowning in whisky and his sorrows. But he bore a smile and squeezed her little shoulder lightly.
Narcissa dabbed her napkin against her eyes, staining it with mascara. She never let a tear fall, but her nose was rosy red. "I am so excited for you to stay with us! You can help me decorate the tree!"
Rosalyn's mouth dropped open. "Oh, Nan! That sounds like so much fun! Do you remember when you, me, Mummy, Granddad, and Daddy decorated our tree last year?" She asked, her top teeth biting down on her lower lip in excitement.
Narcissa laughed, "I do."
"That was fun, wasn't it, Nan?" Rosalyn grabbed up another chicken tender and took a big bite.
Narcissa looked at her son, nodding, never meeting his eyes. "It was, Darling Girl."
Back at the Estate, Draco owled both his employees that their services wouldn't be needed for the next week. Daisy packed up a bag of Rosalyn's things and took it over to Lucius and Narcissa's.
"Draco, do you have any ornaments you'd like us to take to put on the tree?" Narcissa asked her hands on her hips. Her whole demeanor had changed. She seemed... proud.
The Wizard ran a hand through his hair, "I will look to see. I'm sure Hermione has all of Rosie's handmade ornaments put up somewhere. I'll send them over when I find them."
Rosalyn looked up at her dad, "I'm going to miss you, you know that, right?"
Draco gave her a sideways grin and kneeled, "I do know that. I will miss you, too. Tell Nan, and she will bring you back if you want to come home, alright?"
Rosalyn stood tall. She pursed her lips proudly. Gods, she looked just like her mother had when she was young.
"Okay, but I will be fine." She reached out and patted his shoulder.
Draco didn't know why he was constantly so surprised by her resilience and intelligence. She was Hermione Jean Granger made over. "I know." He stood back up.
Rosalyn hugged his waist and then stepped back next to her grandmother. "Are you ready to go?" The little blonde smiled big. Her stuffed hippogriff was right under her arm, tucked safely.
Narcissa and Rosalyn stepped through the floo and into Rosalyn's grandparent's home, leaving Draco alone.
Lucius came waltzing down the hallway, a wide grin plastered upon his face.
"Grandad!" Rosalyn squealed and ran toward her grandfather, who nearly dropped his cane when he picked up his grandchild. He squeezed her into a bear hug, and she giggled.
"Look at you all grown!" He said as he set her back to her feet.
She moved forward and backward from her tiptoes to the heels of her feet, smiling right into his face as he kneeled before her. "I am six big pumpkins and a field pumpkin tall."
"Goodness, you're tall!" Lucius smiled, pulling her into another hug, but looked up at his wife with concern. "Darling, is all well with our son?"
Narcissa nodded and shrugged. "He will be fine. He needs a little time to himself."
Lucius furrowed his brows, "And did he come to this conclusion on his own?"
"No, but I feel Rosie helped him see reason." She winked at the small girl. "Come on, Dear, do you remember how to get to your room?"
Rosalyn looked up the stairwell, then back to her Nan, "I think so. I will call out if I get lost."
Narcissa chuckled as she patted her back and told her to run along, "We will look at Grandad's circus when we are done unpacking. I'll be with you in just a bit."
" K!" Rosalyn was already halfway up the stairs and out of earshot.
"What's going on?" Lucius asked.
"It's nothing to worry about. You know Hermione's anniversary is the twenty-sixth?" Narcissa pushed her hair behind her ear. "I think that Draco needs to mourn. He's not given himself a chance to do so."
Lucius took one of Narcissa's hands into his own. "Cissy, our son is stronger than you give him credit for. The fact that he hasn't broken through all of this... measures him as a man."
Narcissa sighed, "I know, but perhaps he needs to break." She pressed her fingers into her temples, "He's taken an interest in the journal."
Lucius tilted his head to the side in question.
"Remember the journals Hermione left behind for a few of us? That when we..."
"When you write in them, she appears. How do you know?" Her husband asked skeptically.
"Well, when we visited the gravesite today, he pulled his out..." Narcissa began. "He seemed nervous and fearful. It was like he knew something... But was unsure of precisely what he knew."
" NAN! "