CHAPTER TWENTY
In which Hermione's fireplace misbehaves and Narcissa makes omelets...
September 27. 2003
Hermione woke up in her own bed, wrapped in fluffy blue sheets and really, truly happy for the first time in days. A rosy kind of dawn was creeping through her curtains and, she realized with a happy sigh, she had nothing planned for the entire day. She might have been suspicious of her good fortune, had this day occurred a week later; but at the moment she was fully content to accept that today was going to be a good day. She sat up and started thinking of all the things she'd do with so much freedom. Crookshanks, who'd been curled up on her feet, leapt up to her arms as she swung her legs out of bed and walked to the bathroom.
She poured a half-bottle of bubble bath into the tub and started the tap. With so much time, who could stand to take a shower?
She'd get washed, curl up with a good book for a few hours, possibly one of the wedding magazines she'd bought, or had she left them at the ministry? No matter. If not, she'd read one of the romances Jeanie had given her for Christmas; then she'd call Draco to go out to lunch.
She stripped and stepped into the hot bath.
He'd gripe that she was waking him up before noon, but she'd drag him along and make it fun and even though he wouldn't say it she'd know he was thankful.
She lathered shampoo onto her hands and attempted to wash her thick hair.
Maybe they'd go to Flourish and Blotts later, and she'd make him carry her books and he'd whine, but it'd be cute and secretly he'd enjoy himself.
She rinsed her hair and made her way out of the bathtub.
They'd pass a florist and go inside and choose flowers for their wedding. Wedding…
She toweled off and walked back out to her bedroom, Crookshanks nipping at her heels.
Maybe while they were there he'd buy her a bouquet… he'd say it didn't actually mean anything, he'd just happened to have money in his pocket, but she'd know, and she'd say "I love you, too."
She carefully chose an outfit for the first time in months; a fuzzy, brown T-shirt and new khaki pants.
It was going to be so amazingly wonderful that she could barely wait. Maybe they'd simply have to go to breakfast. Yes… that's what they'd do.
She dressed, bent to kiss the top of Crookshanks's head and threw a handful of floo powder onto the fireplace. She stepped into the emerald flames, shouting "Palais de Malfoi," as she went. With a tiny puff of smoke and unexpected force she was thrown backwards into her apartment.
Crookshanks meowed around her feet.
"Yeah, I'm sure this is all very funny to you," she snapped, standing.
She tried again with much the same result. "This day is souring very quickly…" She resolved to take the Knight Bus.
She grabbed her wand and started towards the door, wondering what could be wrong with her floo.
The answer came to her upon exiting the flat. "Oh, god… this day is souring quickly," she repeated, her landing having been replaced with a poorly lit corridor, the majority of which was decorated in black marble. "Well, at least I know nothing's wrong with my fireplace," she said to Crookshanks, who was curled up around her ankles again. "Can't floo to a place you're already at." She picked him up. "Let's go inside and pretend this never happened, wait for that bastard fiancée of mine to show up and beg our forgiveness," she cooed, turning to follow her own advice. Crookshanks, however, had other plans. He leapt from her arms and was streaking down the hallway before she knew what was happening. She swore. "Come back!" When no response came but the sound of his padded footsteps fading into silence, she looked wistfully back into her flat and her now ruined day, but knew she would follow him, and possibly find that bastard fiancée she'd been talking about.
Narcissa was eating breakfast in his dining room when Draco finally woke up and went looking for food. This was odd in most respects as a) Narcissa didn't eat breakfast or b) wake up before noon or c) come into his dining room, which was only really his because no one but him used it. Narcissa's dining room was a cream-colored bay-window-type thing on the east wing, well away from the dark, red room he'd taken to calling 'his'. However, never one to judge anything his mother took the time to do in the way of family unity, he didn't say anything about it; but merely took the omelet she was offering him and sat across the table from her. Once he was seated, he realized she'd neither taken the time to put on make-up or change out of her sleeping clothes. That was stranger, Narcissa hadn't let anyone, even Lucius, see her out of makeup for over twenty years.
"Good omelet." He offered in way of conversation (not that he wasn't used to silent breakfasts, he was simply building up to asking why she was there in the first place). It was a blatant lie, the omelet was burnt and specks of eggshell were lurking on top of it. He'd have to find out which house elf had made it and cause it suffering (in the most humane way possible, of course. Hermione would have his head if she thought he was mistreating his height-impaired servants. He was, of course, but she didn't need to know that.)
"Really? I made them." He choked on the orange juice he'd been drinking. That was too, too much.
"Mum, stop lying. That's not even funny." He highly doubted Narcissa knew where the kitchens were, let alone how to crack an egg and make an omelet out of it. Then again… considering the state of said omelets…
She frowned. "Fine, then. I'm a completely inadequate mother."
Oh, god, not that again.
"You know, you work all your life so that your son can go off and be happy and all you ask is…"
"Mum!" he interrupted, "You've never worked a day in your life!"
She made a sound like humph.
"Now," he pushed the suspicious omelet away. "What have you done?"
"Nothing." She lied.
"Mum…"
"Well, there's no use arguing, anyway…" She coughed. "Orange juice?" She held out the pitcher. He noticed bits of orange rind floating in it and politely declined. "Oh… no? Well, your fiancée will be down in a moment and I'm sure she'll want some, so I'll just leave it out."
"Mum…" he gasped. "You didn't."
"I didn't what?"
"You didn't kidnap her, did you?" he asked, half-hoping, half-pleading.
"Oh, no, of course not, darling!" He heaved a sigh of relief. "I let her bring her entire flat, for Merlin's sake! A kidnapper would never be so kind. No, no. I'm simply letting her live here for the time being. It's a social upgrade, really."
His head hit the table with a painful smacking sound. "Ow…"
"Oh, darling. What is it?" He heard her getting up and coming around the table. "Here… let mummy help."
"Mum!" He whined, standing before she could sprinkle him in boo-boo fixing kisses and promises of dragon-skin boots.
"Oh, darling." She tried to pat his back in a motherly fashion. "Tell mummy what it is and we'll make it all better. Promise."
"But mum…"
"Shh… just sit back down and I'll get you some nice hot…"
"NO!" He stepped away from her. She frowned, confused. "You can't just do things like this to people!"
"And why not? I tell you, she already loves it here. I've had Lash make up some new big, fluffy, pink towels with 'Helen Grunnings' embroidered on them and everything. Just imagine it!"
"She liked her flat where it was before!"
"Yes, but I assure you that she likes it much more opening up onto…" She thought for a moment. "…that lovely corridor."
"That lovely corridor?"
"Yes, you know the one."
"I really can't believe you." He sat again, but only because if he continued standing he'd be in danger of fainting before he could properly scold his mother.
"Yes, I know! Isn't it marvelous!" The pitcher poured another glass of orange juice.
"First you kidnap— yes, kidnap— my fiancé, and then you have the nerve to lose her flat and tell me it's 'marvelous'. You are absolutely…" She looked down at him expectantly. "You are absolutely my mother…"
"Oh, darling, this is going to be so much fun! I mean, I know it'll be a bit strange but I just know we're going to get along so well! We'll be like a super-family, embracing all the races of the world in one melting pot of love and sunshine with cotton candy!"
He groaned.
"I know. It's too fabulous for words." She bent to embrace him around his shoulders. "I'm so excited!" The chair toppled backwards as he jumped away from her motherly advances. "Dracikins?"
"I… need… to… find… my… fiancée… and… you… are… not… helping! GAH!" She frowned as he swept from the room, the spitting image of her own, albeit younger, Lucius.
"They really do grow up so fast…" She sighed as she expected poor and ugly mothers might, then caught her reflection in a wall mirror and decided that it was quite time to cut the act and put her makeup on.
A/N: Okay, after THREE CHAPTERS, finally the author's note. Sorry, I know you don't get the whole thing with Owen Rose, but it'll make sense in the end, promise. Hope you enjoyed it. Love and kisses. Might be a bit until the next update,I have synchronized swimmingpractice everyday after school, and while it's making my super-svelte I have no time to write anything except on weekends. And only then at four in the morning (Yes, it is currently 3:59. I have had too many Dr. Peppers) Next chapter is something I've been REALLY looking forward to writing. Erm... I've been reading Macbeth, by Cyropi, and at the end of each of her chapters she has a question, and I like that idea. So... you guys keep saying I don't have enough reviews (I'm not saying I don't agree but I think it would be pompous to say so myself.) I think I have plenty of reviews until I look at the really fabulous stories that have like 2000 and I'm like GAH, wtf? So, why do you guys think that is? I'm in the mind to just agree with Obsessed with Draco and say I have publicity issues, which is fine. But then I was reading some fics the other day, and I realized that if the first chapter doesn't catch my attention immediately, I don't stick with a storyand so then review it. So I'm thinking of re-writing the first chapter, but I need ideas. The stuff that happens in that chapter has very little to do with the rest of the story, I just realized, so I don't know. And if I was a discriminating reader I probably wouldn't continue, no matter how fab the rest of the story is. But now I have no idea what to write instead. I was thinking maybe I'd start in the past. But who knows. Ideas? Suggestions? Reviews? You know any little tidbit makes me smile. Love you all!
Oh, and also! As to something else Obsessed with Draco said, (I love the rest of you, that was just a good review, it made me think), Yes, I will be writing stuff about the year they disappeared as well as why she left. Things that had to do with why she left, like loyalty, forgiveness, reconciling your past, betrayal, telling the truth, following your heart, etc. are some themes I've realized I'm working into here subconciously (forgiveness being HUGE), so yeah. That stuff is really important. You'll see more on betrayal and following your heart next chapter, as well as someMalfoy family history... past scandals etc.(and kind of forgiveness, at the very end and what happens when you don't forgive). As always, love and kisses!
EDITED March 19, 2005: Due to recent revelations on my part about what an awful direction this story is going in (my search for a plot basically killed the plot it was supposed to have, however weak it may have originally been i ended up with none), I've removed the next chapter. Sorry. It'll be up again tomorrow, probably. I need to think for a bit.