Chapter 5- Hysteria and Mystery
He squinted at the sun.
How long had it been? He thought, shading his eyes with his right hand. How long had it been since he had been in the full warmth of the sun? Two years? Three?
The rays felt like a substance soaking into his pores. Five years. It had been five years since he had truly felt the sun. he shook his head. It had seemed like a lifetime. How had he functioned so long without it?
And old man was selling daily newspapers on the street corner. He noticed the brooding young wizard glancing at him, and called, "C'mon lad! What about a good ole Sun to cheer yeah up?"
"No, no, I'm fine."
"C'mere son! Theres nothing in the world the page three girl wont fix, aye?" The old man chuckled at him.
He grimaced. "S'okay. I'm fine, thanks."
Walking down the crowded ways, he almost felt like diving into the gutter. Damn Muggles, and their mad jostling. Why couldn't things be back to the way they were?
Oh well. Some things were worth the pain. Hermione, for example. He had been informed of her whereabouts, safe and sound with McGonagall. His informant was trustworthy, and almost never wrong. In fact, it was Albus Dumbledore himself.
He couldn't wait to get there. True, it hadn't been long since he had last seen her, but it seemed like an eternity. It was his life's work to protect her, something that most protested to, but Dumbledore assured him it was necessary. The only thing that mattered was that Hermione was safe.
He hailed a cab to take him to the rendezvous. Disapparating made more sense, but it was crowded, and he didn't want to make a scene. It had been about six years since the Ministry had gotten rid of the Statute, but Muggles were still flipping out when people next to them disappeared.
They were also just as inflexible as before. One woman at a bank went so far as to call him a "sideshow freak" when he asked to withdraw his Galleons. Another common term was "illusionist," coined by Muggles who couldn't bring themselves to say the words "witch" and "wizard," and found a more politically correct term instead. To him, an "illusionist" was someone with a silk hat and rabbit that worked at children's parties. They had no powers. He did. God help the poor Muggle who got the two of them mixed up.
"Fiona, please sleep!"
Hermione was nearly in tears. Her little child was bawling her eyes out, upset with something. She was fed, diapered, held, sang to, and washed, but nothing was working. Her baby just screamed, unabated.
She hummed a bit of a lullaby, hoping her motherly voice would be calming. It wasn't. Fiona continued to scream, her little grey eyes opening and shutting with each breath. Her eyes were her fathers, so light and beautiful.
"You miss daddy, don't you, love?" Hermione cooed, trying to stay calm.
"Draco! PLEASE TAKE HER!"
Hermione shrieked for help, holding her crying 7 month old. Her husband flew to her side, toothbrush in his hand, and foam in his mouth. Kissing his wife on the cheek, he took his child in one arm, and his brush in the other, then headed back to the bathroom. Unlike most men, Draco was unfazed by screams. And he casually finished brushing his teeth before turning his attention onto little Fiona.
"Now, child," he said, in his most pompous rich brat voice. "I simply cannot stomach your yelling any longer. The noise will ruin my soufflé!"
She stared at him, completely enthralled at what he was saying. He laughed at her slightly cross-eyed expression, then flipped up her shirt and blew a wet raspberry on her stomach. She giggled, and made a few wild grabs for his nose, then succeeded in grabbing a substantial chunk of his hair.
"OUCH!" her father winced, prying her fingers from his crowning glory.
Hermione watched, and wiped tears of frustration from her face.
Dear Lord, she thought, What would I ever do without him?
The cab stooped outside a rustic, yet beautiful colonial mansion. The wizard thanked his driver, and paid him with what muggle money he had left, then looked up at the dark house, and shuddered. He had seen the inside once, and he hoped he would never see it again. Walking briskly, he spotted an odd lilac fire hydrant, and smiled. This was it.
He muttered the password, and walked through the petite door. I wonder what her face will be like when she sees me, he thought, and entered the complex.
Hermione was completely wound up. Fiona was still crying, and she didn't know what to do. Could the muggles hear? Or the wizards above? The thought sent a chill down her spine. What if they came bursting through any second?
Her child's screams pounded against her head, like Chinese torture. She clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to block out the piercing yells, but it was no use. She needed to escape.
"Minerva," she said nervously, then again, only louder. "MINERVA!"
Hearing her shriek, the Professor ran towards the door. Hermione was sobbing now, and without even a muttered instruction, she donned her coat, and ran out the door, leaving the flustered McGonagall, and her crying baby.
The screams were abrasive to his ears, but he continued walking. The prize at the end of the tunnel was worth it. His Hermione was worth it.
He took a sharp left turn, bypassing the main hall. He wanted to surprise everyone by sneaking in through the back. He wondered what Hermione would do when she saw him, still alive and well.
Pushing open the door, he saw the screaming baby. He recognized the cloak next to the crib as Minerva McGonagall's, but she was no where to be seen.
The baby stopped crying, and stared at him, mesmerized. He picked her up slowly, and began to rock her back and forth, just as a father did.
Minerva rubbed Hermione's shoulders, and helped her to her feet. The young mother sniffed diligently.
"I'm sorry for making a scene," she apologized. McGonagall tutted, shaking her head.
"You have been through a lot lately, Hermione. Its understandable."
The two women walked towards her room. Hermione cocked her head, noticing something.
"Fiona isn't crying any more."
Minerva smiled. "I think shes sleeping. It must be tiring to cry so much."
They rounded the corner, and Hermione slipped through the slightly opened door. She gasped, and ran into the tall man's arms.
It was Harry.
A/N: I really wanted it to be Draco. I REALLY did! But I've worked out the plot and, yeah, he's not involved yet…..Thanks so much for all your ideas, as you can tell, I've been really inspired!
Seed-of-Flame: I will be using your idea sort of, but instead of Snape, it will be someone else, ok? Snape can't go running off yet.
Miss Tricksy: Don't worry, I hate Ron, and I would never match up Hermione with him. But he does still have feelings for her. This brings up a conflict with Fiona, because she represents, to him, hermione and Draco's relationship.
Regina Terrae: That's coming up, actually, the chappie where we find out what happened.
Sofa Girl: Harry is here! In the next chappie, you will find out what hes been doing for all this time. As for the Draco marrying a mudblood thing, it will come up again. Voldemort wasn't really ok with it, but I guess he was so starved for followers that he made allowances.
Julie Bouse: sorry, I would update quicker, but I hate typing :)
Blah Blah: thanks, you rock too!
Jolene Smith: I think it is a common trend with d/hr shippers that we have an intense loathing of all r/h-ness.
Jbanana: do you really think I could kill Draco? (maybe, maybe not….)
Thanks for all your ideas!