*Small disclaimer before the story gets started...mild language, but not unnecessary. Okay, I'm done!*
Chapter Three - Clear as Mud/Opaque as Crystal
Draco grinned as he heard movement coming from Hermione's room; he had known that greaseball Snape would teach him something useful, and the Dream Giver Potion (which was part of the Special Sleeping Draughts section they had covered last year) certainly was useful, at least in this instance.
He'd gotten a funny look from Professor Sprout when he'd asked if she knew what Hermione's favorite flowers were, though, but thankfully, no questions had ensued.
A soft knock on the door: "Come in," he said.
The door creaked open, and a slightly shy Hermione stepped into his room. Draco put down the book he had been reading and looked up at her from where he lay on his bed.
Not knowing what to say, how to say it, or if she even wanted to know, Hermione began. "The flowers..."
"Were my doing," Draco finished for her.
"And the dream, then..."
"Was also my doing."
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, almost - but not quite - wishing that there never had been any dream or any flowers, wishing that she could go back and hide under her covers and never face this man. But there had been, she couldn't, and she had to know. "And so that means..."
Draco took a deep breath - seemingly (to Hermione) just to draw out her nerves, make them snap and tingle with apprehension and expectation - and responded with "I love you."
Hermione's still three-quarters asleep mind whirled at an amazing two whirls a minute. What in Merlin's name did one say to someone who professes his love for you? She pondered for a moment in silence, then scratched her scalp through her rather mussed hair.
"I'm, uhmm, going to go...bathe. And have a cup of coffee. Can we, uhm, talk...maybe over breakfast?" Never put off indefinitely what you can put off for an hour or two...somehow, that sounded wrong in her head, but Hermione shook it off and blinked owlishly.
Without waiting for a confirmation from Draco, she turned and walked away. "Ow! Damned, stupid, god-forsaken door jam...wasn't there when I came in.." She wound her way to the bathroom, stumbling and cursing over objects in her path.
Draco could hardly contain his surprise. Never, in all the years he had known Hermione, had she cursed - much less been so shocked by something said or done as to be rendered unable to process an intelligent response. Of course, he mused, it surely wasn't every day the sexiest man in Hogwarts told her he loved her. Particularly at - he checked his clock - six thirty in the morning.
He laughed to himself, then rolled over and went back to sleep, in search of another hour of rest.
* * * * *
The walk to the Great Hall was silent; the search for a double espresso (for Hermione) and a hot chocolate (for Draco) was silent; the sitting at the Head table was silent. Neither knew who was to initiate this conversation, as necessary as it was.
Fortunately, (or unfortunately, however one might view the situation) Rara came running up the aisle leading to their table. Hermione sighed briefly; she didn't really want her thoughts to be interrupted, even by Rara. She looked at Draco with a glance that said "Let me take care of her" then put on a bright smile for Rara.
When Rara finally reached their table out of breath and was about to sit down, Hermione stopped her with a raised hand and said, "Rara, Draco and I need to talk...can we talk to you later?"
Rara shook her head and spoke in a rush. "No, please Hermione, Draco, I really need to tell you something, and I wish it could wait, but it can't, and can we please go back to the Head quarters so we can talk-" She beckoned, babbling about something important that she had to tell them.
As quickly as they dared to move without attracting attention, it wasn't fast enough for Rara and she stamped her foot to vent her frustration.
To Rara, it seemed like it took the trio four times as long to reach the Head quarters, and she was positive the stairways were going out of their way to thwart progress, but they finally reached the picture-portal. Whispering the password, they stepped through to find Dumbledore standing in front of the fire.
"Ahh, glad to see you made it in a timely fashion. Please, do sit down. I have some rather startling - and somewhat disturbing - news."
The tone in Dumbledore's voice worried Hermione and Draco; never before had they heard him speak with the same it's-urgent-but-I-don't-want-you-to-panic quality. Nervous, they both sat down on the couch like obedient children.
Albus Dumbledore always hated being the bearer of bad news, but the task invariably fell to him; and, it seemed, it would for a good many years to come. He sighed. "There is no delicate way to phrase this, Mr. Malfoy. Your father has disappeared from public view. For some good time, certain people have been monitoring his actions, dreading something like this, and what it might portend. The surveillance was lightened once Voldemort was defeated for good and all, but it was still continued."
Dumbledore paused for the barest moment, noticing Draco's hand slowly creeping towards Hermione's and grasp it tightly. It wasn't fair, it really wasn't, that these two had not been given time enough to experience the warm-fuzzy side of love.
Though Draco absolutely refused to allow it to show, he was scared. Something wasn't quite right about this, about any of it. His father had quite clearly told him to stay away from Rara. Draco had deliberately disobeyed, and obedience was high on the list of Rules That You Did Not Break. Not hearing from him for a week made Draco wonder if he had really managed to push his father's buttons, but to the extent that his father would - would come looking for him? He didn't think so, but...but he could never be too sure. He should pack, tonight, once Dumbledore was gone. His father wouldn't be able to Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds, and surely he wouldn't be able to find him without assistance...
Hermione could do nothing but clasp Draco's hand as it inched closer for comfort. As she did so, however, she caught an intense wave of fear from him. Fear was something she had never known Draco to show, and it made her nervous. Whatever it was must be terrible, if Draco's showing fear...
Rara was pacing behind the couch, tuning out Dumbledore. What he had to say wasn't anything new to her; indeed, she had known of it long before - correction, had known of it longer than he had. What was racing through her mind at a mile a minute was what she was going to say to Hermione and Draco. Sweet Merlin, there were so many "what-ifs" she had to wade through...what if they didn't believe her? What if they hated her? What if they were afraid of her? What if - and this was the one that frightened her the most - what if they didn't want her? What if, what if...what if...she wanted to scream at herself, shut up Rara! They won't, they love you, they'll believe you...just don't stumble over your words...be confident, as always...just tell them...
Draco snapped out of the state of panic he was in by the words, "...committed to St. Mungo's..." He sat up, staring at Dumbledore. "What did you say about Mangy's?"
"Draco, forgive me, but I have limited time to explain this. I understand, but please try to focus on what I'm saying. I said you mother has been committed to St. Mungo's. She's been raving about Tom Riddle's successor, and we suspect she's speaking about either your father, or someone he knows and has gone to aid."
He felt like his breath had been knocked out of his lungs. His mother...Lucious would never, ever allow her to be put into Mangy's...unless...he swallowed against a tight knot in his throat. There had been an idea that was kicked around by some of the true Dark Side followers if Voldemort had ever truly been defeated. He'd never known many details, being considered too young, but by his father's disappearance and by his mother's commitment, he knew it must have been set in motion.
Hermione had half her mind on what Dumbledore was trying to tell them, and the other half on Draco. She felt him tense when St. Mungo's was mentioned, and she squeezed his hand in an attempt to soothe him.
just tell them...
"My dears, that is all I have to say to you. Rara, on the other hand, has much more, and her news might come as a bit of a shock. Rara?" With that final word, Dumbledore made his exit from the room.
just tell them...
Rara came around to face them, then sat cross-legged on the floor. Just tell them. She rested her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Just tell them. She looked up at them, and saw them through different eyes.
Draco scrambled up the back of the couch and behind it, his eyes never leaving Rara's face. In his haste, he forgot he was clenching Hermione's hand and dragged her with him, until her cry of pain brought him to his senses.
"What in the name of holy hell is going on? I mean, what the fuck?! Is this some kind of sick joke?" Draco's panic was caused by what Rara's countenance had become.
Looking back at him, boring holes into his soul, were his eyes. The palest blue, framed by his mother's aristocratic eyebrows and forehead. Continuing upwards, he saw hair a shade or two darker than his own, surrounding a face shaped like Hermione's...her mouth, her nose...
Unable to tear his eyes from Rara, Draco stutteringly whispered, "Who...who are you?"
Eyes brimming with repressed tears, Rara looked from Hermione to Draco to where Dumbledore had left, then back to Draco.
"I'm your daughter, Draco. Yours and Mione's."
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A/N: I'm glad my reviewers are liking this, hehe, and for SilverDragon and Pikachufan4288, I'm writing as fast as the story will allow, honest I am! I'll try to write faster though, but I'm fast running out of pre-done plot line to follow. Anyway, *sigh* I'll do my best :)
Chapter Three - Clear as Mud/Opaque as Crystal
Draco grinned as he heard movement coming from Hermione's room; he had known that greaseball Snape would teach him something useful, and the Dream Giver Potion (which was part of the Special Sleeping Draughts section they had covered last year) certainly was useful, at least in this instance.
He'd gotten a funny look from Professor Sprout when he'd asked if she knew what Hermione's favorite flowers were, though, but thankfully, no questions had ensued.
A soft knock on the door: "Come in," he said.
The door creaked open, and a slightly shy Hermione stepped into his room. Draco put down the book he had been reading and looked up at her from where he lay on his bed.
Not knowing what to say, how to say it, or if she even wanted to know, Hermione began. "The flowers..."
"Were my doing," Draco finished for her.
"And the dream, then..."
"Was also my doing."
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, almost - but not quite - wishing that there never had been any dream or any flowers, wishing that she could go back and hide under her covers and never face this man. But there had been, she couldn't, and she had to know. "And so that means..."
Draco took a deep breath - seemingly (to Hermione) just to draw out her nerves, make them snap and tingle with apprehension and expectation - and responded with "I love you."
Hermione's still three-quarters asleep mind whirled at an amazing two whirls a minute. What in Merlin's name did one say to someone who professes his love for you? She pondered for a moment in silence, then scratched her scalp through her rather mussed hair.
"I'm, uhmm, going to go...bathe. And have a cup of coffee. Can we, uhm, talk...maybe over breakfast?" Never put off indefinitely what you can put off for an hour or two...somehow, that sounded wrong in her head, but Hermione shook it off and blinked owlishly.
Without waiting for a confirmation from Draco, she turned and walked away. "Ow! Damned, stupid, god-forsaken door jam...wasn't there when I came in.." She wound her way to the bathroom, stumbling and cursing over objects in her path.
Draco could hardly contain his surprise. Never, in all the years he had known Hermione, had she cursed - much less been so shocked by something said or done as to be rendered unable to process an intelligent response. Of course, he mused, it surely wasn't every day the sexiest man in Hogwarts told her he loved her. Particularly at - he checked his clock - six thirty in the morning.
He laughed to himself, then rolled over and went back to sleep, in search of another hour of rest.
* * * * *
The walk to the Great Hall was silent; the search for a double espresso (for Hermione) and a hot chocolate (for Draco) was silent; the sitting at the Head table was silent. Neither knew who was to initiate this conversation, as necessary as it was.
Fortunately, (or unfortunately, however one might view the situation) Rara came running up the aisle leading to their table. Hermione sighed briefly; she didn't really want her thoughts to be interrupted, even by Rara. She looked at Draco with a glance that said "Let me take care of her" then put on a bright smile for Rara.
When Rara finally reached their table out of breath and was about to sit down, Hermione stopped her with a raised hand and said, "Rara, Draco and I need to talk...can we talk to you later?"
Rara shook her head and spoke in a rush. "No, please Hermione, Draco, I really need to tell you something, and I wish it could wait, but it can't, and can we please go back to the Head quarters so we can talk-" She beckoned, babbling about something important that she had to tell them.
As quickly as they dared to move without attracting attention, it wasn't fast enough for Rara and she stamped her foot to vent her frustration.
To Rara, it seemed like it took the trio four times as long to reach the Head quarters, and she was positive the stairways were going out of their way to thwart progress, but they finally reached the picture-portal. Whispering the password, they stepped through to find Dumbledore standing in front of the fire.
"Ahh, glad to see you made it in a timely fashion. Please, do sit down. I have some rather startling - and somewhat disturbing - news."
The tone in Dumbledore's voice worried Hermione and Draco; never before had they heard him speak with the same it's-urgent-but-I-don't-want-you-to-panic quality. Nervous, they both sat down on the couch like obedient children.
Albus Dumbledore always hated being the bearer of bad news, but the task invariably fell to him; and, it seemed, it would for a good many years to come. He sighed. "There is no delicate way to phrase this, Mr. Malfoy. Your father has disappeared from public view. For some good time, certain people have been monitoring his actions, dreading something like this, and what it might portend. The surveillance was lightened once Voldemort was defeated for good and all, but it was still continued."
Dumbledore paused for the barest moment, noticing Draco's hand slowly creeping towards Hermione's and grasp it tightly. It wasn't fair, it really wasn't, that these two had not been given time enough to experience the warm-fuzzy side of love.
Though Draco absolutely refused to allow it to show, he was scared. Something wasn't quite right about this, about any of it. His father had quite clearly told him to stay away from Rara. Draco had deliberately disobeyed, and obedience was high on the list of Rules That You Did Not Break. Not hearing from him for a week made Draco wonder if he had really managed to push his father's buttons, but to the extent that his father would - would come looking for him? He didn't think so, but...but he could never be too sure. He should pack, tonight, once Dumbledore was gone. His father wouldn't be able to Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds, and surely he wouldn't be able to find him without assistance...
Hermione could do nothing but clasp Draco's hand as it inched closer for comfort. As she did so, however, she caught an intense wave of fear from him. Fear was something she had never known Draco to show, and it made her nervous. Whatever it was must be terrible, if Draco's showing fear...
Rara was pacing behind the couch, tuning out Dumbledore. What he had to say wasn't anything new to her; indeed, she had known of it long before - correction, had known of it longer than he had. What was racing through her mind at a mile a minute was what she was going to say to Hermione and Draco. Sweet Merlin, there were so many "what-ifs" she had to wade through...what if they didn't believe her? What if they hated her? What if they were afraid of her? What if - and this was the one that frightened her the most - what if they didn't want her? What if, what if...what if...she wanted to scream at herself, shut up Rara! They won't, they love you, they'll believe you...just don't stumble over your words...be confident, as always...just tell them...
Draco snapped out of the state of panic he was in by the words, "...committed to St. Mungo's..." He sat up, staring at Dumbledore. "What did you say about Mangy's?"
"Draco, forgive me, but I have limited time to explain this. I understand, but please try to focus on what I'm saying. I said you mother has been committed to St. Mungo's. She's been raving about Tom Riddle's successor, and we suspect she's speaking about either your father, or someone he knows and has gone to aid."
He felt like his breath had been knocked out of his lungs. His mother...Lucious would never, ever allow her to be put into Mangy's...unless...he swallowed against a tight knot in his throat. There had been an idea that was kicked around by some of the true Dark Side followers if Voldemort had ever truly been defeated. He'd never known many details, being considered too young, but by his father's disappearance and by his mother's commitment, he knew it must have been set in motion.
Hermione had half her mind on what Dumbledore was trying to tell them, and the other half on Draco. She felt him tense when St. Mungo's was mentioned, and she squeezed his hand in an attempt to soothe him.
just tell them...
"My dears, that is all I have to say to you. Rara, on the other hand, has much more, and her news might come as a bit of a shock. Rara?" With that final word, Dumbledore made his exit from the room.
just tell them...
Rara came around to face them, then sat cross-legged on the floor. Just tell them. She rested her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Just tell them. She looked up at them, and saw them through different eyes.
Draco scrambled up the back of the couch and behind it, his eyes never leaving Rara's face. In his haste, he forgot he was clenching Hermione's hand and dragged her with him, until her cry of pain brought him to his senses.
"What in the name of holy hell is going on? I mean, what the fuck?! Is this some kind of sick joke?" Draco's panic was caused by what Rara's countenance had become.
Looking back at him, boring holes into his soul, were his eyes. The palest blue, framed by his mother's aristocratic eyebrows and forehead. Continuing upwards, he saw hair a shade or two darker than his own, surrounding a face shaped like Hermione's...her mouth, her nose...
Unable to tear his eyes from Rara, Draco stutteringly whispered, "Who...who are you?"
Eyes brimming with repressed tears, Rara looked from Hermione to Draco to where Dumbledore had left, then back to Draco.
"I'm your daughter, Draco. Yours and Mione's."
--------------------------------------------------
A/N: I'm glad my reviewers are liking this, hehe, and for SilverDragon and Pikachufan4288, I'm writing as fast as the story will allow, honest I am! I'll try to write faster though, but I'm fast running out of pre-done plot line to follow. Anyway, *sigh* I'll do my best :)