Chapter Nine
One weekend morning about a month after the wedding, Draco and Hermione were seated on their back porch. Italian books lay between them, still open to the section on expressions of family. Draco had decided that it was time for a break, and had gone and gotten them a large pitcher of fresh lemonade and two glasses. They sat in silence, sipping the sweetly sour liquid. Hermione was gazing absently at the page in a book that translated different expressions for relatives. She soon grew tired of her own thoughts and asked her husband, "Draco, what was your childhood like?"
When she got no response, she added, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was just curious." She glanced at his face, which wore a complicated expression. His eyebrows were knit together, and his normally sparking gray eyes were downcast. Hermione instantly regretted her inquiry, and added, "It probably wasn't my place to ask you that anyway. Sorry."
However, Draco looked up and said, "Since when does a wife not have the right to ask her husband a personal question? I should have brought it up before, anyway."
Hermione was quiet as Draco said this, and tried to refrain herself from asking again. Soon he said, "In my opinion, my childhood wasn't very happy, but since I didn't really have anything to compare it to, I didn't know if I had a reason to be miserable or not."
He looked up and saw Hermione's understanding expression, and shook his head slightly before continuing. "It really wasn't as bad as it sounds. I'm sure that I just remember it worse than it actually was. I was just a lonely little boy who decided that his loneliness was a reason to hate everyone. It's kind of ironic, but the only people I didn't really hate back then were my parents, and they were the ones who left me alone so often."
"That must have been awful for you," said Hermione quietly. "I can't imagine being alone like that." She tilted her head to the side, remembering when she was little. "The only bad memory I have is from when I was eight and my parents.. Well, I'm sure you don't want to hear about my perfectly contented childhood after you've just opened up like that."
"No," said Draco. "Tell me. I want to know."
Hermione tried to ignore the fact that Draco was oblivious that he had just given her a command. He did this often, requesting something but not realizing that it was an order. Sometimes he would catch on and rephrase his comment, or otherwise look at her playfully as if he wanted to see if she would do it or get mad at him. Hermione had grown used to his infrequent and usually accidental commands, but still hated the fact that he, in a way, controlled her. His order to tell her about her worst memory didn't bother her, because she would have told him anyway.
"I don't know if I ever mentioned it, but I was adopted as a baby," started Hermione. She waited for shock to appear on Draco's face, but instead he just listened attentively and seemed unaffected by this statement. "When I turned eight they decided to tell me about it, and I took it the wrong way. They were trying to get the truth out into the open, but I decided that if they weren't my real parents that they didn't love me as much as they should. Afterwards I felt bad about how I reacted, because they were hurt by the way I assumed that they couldn't love me as much as biological parents."
Draco looked thoughtful, and then said, "Did you ever find out who your birth parents were?"
"No, but I think about it a lot. I wish I could just let it go, but sometimes it seems like I don't have a concrete past. Like.. I have this hole that I'll never be able to fill in. Did you understand that, or was I rambling?"
"No, I get it." Draco was quiet for a few minutes, and then he said softly, "If there was a way to find out who they were, would you do it?"
Hermione looked at him, surprised and a bit confused. "I suppose I would, even though it's a pretty big chance. I mean, what if they turned out to be terrible people? It would fill in the hole, but it might make things worse." She paused and seemed to remember what he had said in a different light. "Is there a way?"
"The might be. My father has a friend who works for the Ministry as an investigator. He researches people's pasts and can find out almost anything."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Do you want me to owl him?"
Hermione sat still for a minute, her eyebrows furrowed as she made a decision. In an abrupt movement, her head snapped up and she said, "Yes. I want to know."
Draco gave her a smile and said, "Okay, I'll go contact him." He disappeared into the house, and Hermione was left alone on the porch.
Her mind was whirling, skipping from one thought to the next as if she were spinning around and around, getting dizzy and falling wherever she landed. First she was a bit shocked, not really realizing the enormity of the decision she had just made. She would finally know who she was. Who she originally was, anyway. After getting over the initial astonishment, she began to feel uncertain. What if this was a terrible mistake? What if she found out things she didn't want to know? What if- her stomach dropped unpleasantly- her birth parents really weren't dead, and just hadn't wanted her?
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard Draco calling her from inside. Hermione rose from her seat and went in the house, walking through the hallways but not actually seeing them. Her thoughts had returned to the conversation on the porch, and her mind was mulling over whether she had made the right decision or not.
She found Draco in their bedroom, dressing in formal robes. She stopped to watch him try to fasten the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt for a moment, laughing to herself. After seeing him fail to button his sleeves one-handed, she left the threshold and walked in to help him. He smiled at her slightly as she pushed the delicate silver buttons through their loops. His smile turned to a frown when he realized she was laughing at how helpless he was when it came to doing it himself. He started to get frustrated at the way she gave him teasing looks and then slowed down and pretended to be instructing him on how to button a shirt. He snapped out, "Oh, like what you'll be wearing is less complicated. You always make me zipper your dress, which is about the same thing."
Confused, she asked, "What?"
"We should be dressing for Dinner, remember? Today's Sunday and we're going to Dinner at Malfoy Manor." Draco looked at her oddly, as if she should have remembered this. He looped an expensive leather belt through the loops on his pants and added, "You didn't forget, did you?"
"Weren't we just there a week ago?" At the whining tone in Hermione's voice, Draco smiled and shook his head slightly at her pouting expression.
"Yes. Seems like yesterday, though, doesn't it?"
"Mmmhm," said Hermione as she opened her closet, scanning her wardrobe. She settled on a plain dress, pale yellow with a matching jacket.
When they were dressed, Draco pulled her to him and gave her a sweet kiss on the forehead. As he released her, he said, "You don't need to worry about it, darling. You can just think about how you'll be filling a hole in your past in a matter of days."
"You sent the owl, then?"
"Yes, about ten minutes ago," replied Draco as they left the manor.
"Good," said Hermione, though her stomach dropped. She tried to brush away the feeling that this had not been the right decision, but it latched on to her and wouldn't leave. Looking for a way to distract herself from the doubts, she said offhandedly to Draco, "Let's just hope it's more pleasant than last time."
[Quick A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! And especially to those of you who wished me a happy vacation! It was great but now I'm back to keep the story going. There are only 2 more chapters after this, and then the story's done! Next chapter is what comes right after this one- Hermione and Draco's dinner with the Malfoys, which doesn't go any better than the previous week.]
One weekend morning about a month after the wedding, Draco and Hermione were seated on their back porch. Italian books lay between them, still open to the section on expressions of family. Draco had decided that it was time for a break, and had gone and gotten them a large pitcher of fresh lemonade and two glasses. They sat in silence, sipping the sweetly sour liquid. Hermione was gazing absently at the page in a book that translated different expressions for relatives. She soon grew tired of her own thoughts and asked her husband, "Draco, what was your childhood like?"
When she got no response, she added, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was just curious." She glanced at his face, which wore a complicated expression. His eyebrows were knit together, and his normally sparking gray eyes were downcast. Hermione instantly regretted her inquiry, and added, "It probably wasn't my place to ask you that anyway. Sorry."
However, Draco looked up and said, "Since when does a wife not have the right to ask her husband a personal question? I should have brought it up before, anyway."
Hermione was quiet as Draco said this, and tried to refrain herself from asking again. Soon he said, "In my opinion, my childhood wasn't very happy, but since I didn't really have anything to compare it to, I didn't know if I had a reason to be miserable or not."
He looked up and saw Hermione's understanding expression, and shook his head slightly before continuing. "It really wasn't as bad as it sounds. I'm sure that I just remember it worse than it actually was. I was just a lonely little boy who decided that his loneliness was a reason to hate everyone. It's kind of ironic, but the only people I didn't really hate back then were my parents, and they were the ones who left me alone so often."
"That must have been awful for you," said Hermione quietly. "I can't imagine being alone like that." She tilted her head to the side, remembering when she was little. "The only bad memory I have is from when I was eight and my parents.. Well, I'm sure you don't want to hear about my perfectly contented childhood after you've just opened up like that."
"No," said Draco. "Tell me. I want to know."
Hermione tried to ignore the fact that Draco was oblivious that he had just given her a command. He did this often, requesting something but not realizing that it was an order. Sometimes he would catch on and rephrase his comment, or otherwise look at her playfully as if he wanted to see if she would do it or get mad at him. Hermione had grown used to his infrequent and usually accidental commands, but still hated the fact that he, in a way, controlled her. His order to tell her about her worst memory didn't bother her, because she would have told him anyway.
"I don't know if I ever mentioned it, but I was adopted as a baby," started Hermione. She waited for shock to appear on Draco's face, but instead he just listened attentively and seemed unaffected by this statement. "When I turned eight they decided to tell me about it, and I took it the wrong way. They were trying to get the truth out into the open, but I decided that if they weren't my real parents that they didn't love me as much as they should. Afterwards I felt bad about how I reacted, because they were hurt by the way I assumed that they couldn't love me as much as biological parents."
Draco looked thoughtful, and then said, "Did you ever find out who your birth parents were?"
"No, but I think about it a lot. I wish I could just let it go, but sometimes it seems like I don't have a concrete past. Like.. I have this hole that I'll never be able to fill in. Did you understand that, or was I rambling?"
"No, I get it." Draco was quiet for a few minutes, and then he said softly, "If there was a way to find out who they were, would you do it?"
Hermione looked at him, surprised and a bit confused. "I suppose I would, even though it's a pretty big chance. I mean, what if they turned out to be terrible people? It would fill in the hole, but it might make things worse." She paused and seemed to remember what he had said in a different light. "Is there a way?"
"The might be. My father has a friend who works for the Ministry as an investigator. He researches people's pasts and can find out almost anything."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Do you want me to owl him?"
Hermione sat still for a minute, her eyebrows furrowed as she made a decision. In an abrupt movement, her head snapped up and she said, "Yes. I want to know."
Draco gave her a smile and said, "Okay, I'll go contact him." He disappeared into the house, and Hermione was left alone on the porch.
Her mind was whirling, skipping from one thought to the next as if she were spinning around and around, getting dizzy and falling wherever she landed. First she was a bit shocked, not really realizing the enormity of the decision she had just made. She would finally know who she was. Who she originally was, anyway. After getting over the initial astonishment, she began to feel uncertain. What if this was a terrible mistake? What if she found out things she didn't want to know? What if- her stomach dropped unpleasantly- her birth parents really weren't dead, and just hadn't wanted her?
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard Draco calling her from inside. Hermione rose from her seat and went in the house, walking through the hallways but not actually seeing them. Her thoughts had returned to the conversation on the porch, and her mind was mulling over whether she had made the right decision or not.
She found Draco in their bedroom, dressing in formal robes. She stopped to watch him try to fasten the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt for a moment, laughing to herself. After seeing him fail to button his sleeves one-handed, she left the threshold and walked in to help him. He smiled at her slightly as she pushed the delicate silver buttons through their loops. His smile turned to a frown when he realized she was laughing at how helpless he was when it came to doing it himself. He started to get frustrated at the way she gave him teasing looks and then slowed down and pretended to be instructing him on how to button a shirt. He snapped out, "Oh, like what you'll be wearing is less complicated. You always make me zipper your dress, which is about the same thing."
Confused, she asked, "What?"
"We should be dressing for Dinner, remember? Today's Sunday and we're going to Dinner at Malfoy Manor." Draco looked at her oddly, as if she should have remembered this. He looped an expensive leather belt through the loops on his pants and added, "You didn't forget, did you?"
"Weren't we just there a week ago?" At the whining tone in Hermione's voice, Draco smiled and shook his head slightly at her pouting expression.
"Yes. Seems like yesterday, though, doesn't it?"
"Mmmhm," said Hermione as she opened her closet, scanning her wardrobe. She settled on a plain dress, pale yellow with a matching jacket.
When they were dressed, Draco pulled her to him and gave her a sweet kiss on the forehead. As he released her, he said, "You don't need to worry about it, darling. You can just think about how you'll be filling a hole in your past in a matter of days."
"You sent the owl, then?"
"Yes, about ten minutes ago," replied Draco as they left the manor.
"Good," said Hermione, though her stomach dropped. She tried to brush away the feeling that this had not been the right decision, but it latched on to her and wouldn't leave. Looking for a way to distract herself from the doubts, she said offhandedly to Draco, "Let's just hope it's more pleasant than last time."
[Quick A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! And especially to those of you who wished me a happy vacation! It was great but now I'm back to keep the story going. There are only 2 more chapters after this, and then the story's done! Next chapter is what comes right after this one- Hermione and Draco's dinner with the Malfoys, which doesn't go any better than the previous week.]
