Chapter Three

Tuck Me In

Hermione was in the study, her wand pointed at her forehead as the quill floating in front of her began to scribble quickly on its parchment. Flicking her wand, the parchment and quill fell gently on her mahogany desk. She took the manuscript to recheck it.

Clad in her nightgown, Joan peeked at Hermione's study, smiling at the sight of her mother. She had always enjoyed watching Hermione work at home. Joan took the opportunity to knock.

Hermione looked up from her work. "Joan!" She placed the parchment on the desk and got up. "It's late and we have to leave for Platform 9 ¾ early tomorrow. Why are you still up?"

Joan looked at her toes and twirled a strand of her unkempt hair, a sign of her uncertainty. "Mom, can you accompany me to bed?" She earnestly questioned.

Hermione softened. Her daughter could be such a contradiction – mild during one moment and wild at another. "Sure, honey. Sit and read for awhile, I'll fix my things first."

Joan's face brightened. She sat, slightly sprawling, on one of the plush chairs beside the bookshelves, grabbed a book and began to read.

Looking over at her daughter as she packed away her paperwork for the night, Hermione sighed. How she looked like her father in that careless position. Hermione was certainly going to miss her 'bundle of joy', as Ginny put it. Tomorrow, Joan will be away for a year at Hogwarts. Just one week ago, they were at Diagon Alley, shopping for Joan's supplies. Two days ago, they, along with the Potters, spent the whole day and night at the Weasleys, with the children having a slumber party. Just this morning, mother and daughter used it for bonding.

Hermione smiled sadly; her father should have been there with them. Time really does move fast.

"Joan, I'm done."

Joan quickly stood up and tucked the book under her arm. "Mom, may I bring this to school?"

Hermione glanced at the slightly worn-out book. "'Hogwarts, A History?' Why in the world would you want my copy for when you already have the revised edition?"

"I'd like to compare Hogwarts during your time and mine. Besides, it's rather refreshing to read the edition without the history of one's parents in it you know." Joan smirked knowingly at her mother. The revised edition told of how Harry, Ron and Hermione had defeated Voldemort with the help of Draco during their seventh year. It also had a brief yet vague description on how they spent their days at Hogwarts.

"Fine then," Hermione simply shrugged as they headed towards Joan's room.

Her daughter was one of the most unpredictable people she has met. The other one was her husband. Definitely like father, like daughter.

Hermione offered her hand to her daughter, who gladly took it.

When they had finally reached her room, Joan placed the book on her dresser and crawled on the bed as she went under her covers.

Hermione turned on the lamp and turned off the light. She tucked Joan under her blankets and kissed her forehead.

Hermione positioned herself beside her daughter.

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I'm scared – of school. You know, responsibilities, expectations…"

"Joan," Hermione faced her daughter. "You can handle it. Since you've started to study, you've been the top of your class. You, at a young age, know how to deal with your peers, pressure and stress. Sweetheart, you'll be fine. Besides, I won't burden you with great expectations. All I want you to do is to enjoy your youth while being diligent with your studies, 'k?"

Joan smiled. "Yes, Mom, I know that you won't pressure me, but what about the teachers? I mean, being the daughter of their past Head Boy and Head Girl, they surely would have high expectations of me. And to top it all, I didn't even know what you guys did to be Heads and to be published in books!"

Hermione laughed. How she sounded like Harry when they were first year – oblivious to family history. "Joan! What a silly thing to worry about! The teachers, well they do matter, but don't burden yourself with those thoughts. Look here, you're much better off now than I was when I was in first year."

Joan perked up. "Really? Why? Mom, tell me about it – I never heard much about your school life from you."

Hermione sighed. "Alright then… Let's see…" She pondered for a moment on how to phrase her reason. "We went to Hogwarts during the time that Voldemort was still alive. And later on, being friends with Harry and -."

"Wait a minute," Joan interrupted. "What do you mean 'later on'? You mean you weren't friends at first?"

"Well, yes, in fact, they don't like me at all – being the know-it-all, as they said."

Joan gaped. She never heard that before. "Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron were horrible?"
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. The whole package –speaking behind my back, making faces and ignoring me."

"How did-?"

"Simple – they rescued me from the troll and I rescued them from detention."

Joan was awestruck. "Wow… You call that simple? What are the chances of me having such adventures on my first year…?"

"Joan," Hermione's voice was stern. "Don't go looking for trouble ok?" She thought silently – besides, trouble would go looking for you, judging by your genes and friends.

"Yes, Mom. Anyway, so what is your reason on this year being safe?"

"Ok… Being friends with them, and being on the wrong side of our archrival, your father."

"This I know, you and Dad were nemeses at school."

"It was always a harrowing experience after the other. Anyway, the other thing is that, you immediately have friends to help you out to adjust at school."

Joan nodded. "Mom, can you tell me another story or at least, some bare facts?"

"Sure. Shoot."

"Tell me about Dad."

Hermione froze. She hasn't been exactly too open on discussing the topic of her husband to her daughter about what happened during their school days. It would be too difficult for her reminisce such a roller coaster ride of an experience. She sighed. Someday she would have to share anyway…

"Your father… was a Slytherin."

"Yeah, Mom," Joan drawled lazily. "I know. And his name is Draco Malfoy, son of a Deatheater, favorite of the Potions Master Severus Snape, Head Boy of his batch – come on, Mom! When I said 'bare facts', I didn't mean a boring biography!"

"Well, what do you want to hear?"

"You know, what you guys did when you were younger and – ah! How he tormented you. That would be a good start."

Hermione almost cringed. How could her daughter be so blunt? Then again, she IS a Malfoy. "Well… In second year, due to him, Ron vomited slugs." She glanced at her daughter, whom she expected to look grossed out.

Instead, Joan's face brightened. "Cool! How did he DO that? I want to learn how!"

Hermione shook her head. Malfoy… Why did she even marry him? "Not in this lifetime, young lady. Actually, HE insulted me and Ron defended me with his malfunctioning wand – therefore, the outcome."

"Let me get this straight – he was an insufferable prick, an exasperating git and lastly, my father." Joan sighed contentedly. "I love my family history."

Hermione was amazed at her daughter's 'eloquence'. "Ok now, Joan dear, enough with my bedtime stories. Go to sleep, you'll learn more about your queer family history when you get to Hogwarts. Goodnight, Joan."

"You bet. Goodnight Mom." She kissed her mother's cheek. As she lay down to sleep while her mother was tucking her loose hair behind her ears, Joan was thinking. You bet I'm going to conduct a research on history, namely the history of my parents. Slightly smirking as she slept, she never did see her mother, well versed on the Malfoy trademarks, frown at her expression.