5
PERCY WEASLEY: NEWLY APPOINTED MINISTER OF MAGIC
The post rained down around them as the family's various owls dropped in. It was chaos. Hermione was watching the birds fly around, terrifyingly quiet while her eyes nervously darted around the room. Ginny shouted over everyone, Molly, George and Arthur were looking at each other with this subtle look of pain on their faces as they stared at the paper George held in his hands. Angelina and Gabrielle were trying to calm the children who were racing around, shrieking and taunting the owls.
But Draco – Draco was silent. He was pale, and stiff and ramrod straight. All hard angles and harder facial expressions. His eyes were cold, grey concrete. He just looked entirely numb – a statue, unmoving in the chaos.
Percy Weasley and his self-entitled, all too righteous, pure-blooded pretention was the other end of the extremist spectrum. He was all rules and laws and had disowned his family long ago. His Head Boy/Prefect energy had translated flawlessly to being Kingsley Shacklebolt's right hand man and now the Minister of Magic.
It didn't take Hermione or Draco long to deduce what the meaning behind Harry's owl was. The parchment had been passed from person to person in the hour or so between the radio announcement and the arrival of the other owls. Ginny and George went back and forth for a bit, trying to figure out what Harry had meant. Molly tried to coax an answer from Draco or Hermione.
The Malfoys knew what it meant.
"What happened to the fucking election?"
"Language," Molly chided halfheartedly, glancing at the kids in the other room.
Percy Weasley had not been… unopinionated… when it came to Shacklebolt's pardon of younger Death Eaters and their families. He'd made more than a few statements in interviews over the years that made his opinions on the matter very clear.
It was quite obvious, really.
It became more obvious as the family read through Percy Weasley's statement in the post.
"No," Ginny snarled, spinning to face Molly, Arthur, and George. Her head whipped back and forth between her family and the Malfoys.
"What is it dear?" Arthur asked. His voice was tired.
"That's what Harry meant isn't it?" she asked Hermione. Hermione's shoulders slumped with the weathered sigh that passed her lips.
"Ginevra," Molly snapped. "What are you on about?"
"Our dear brother," she spit the word out like poison in her mouth. "He's going to try the Death Eaters again, isn't he? Isn't he?"
"Most likely, yes." Hermione said. Draco hadn't so much as twitched.
"What are you still doing here? Go!" Ginny was all fire, always. Hermione smiled sadly and looked at Draco, then her boys in the other room where they played with the Angelina, Gabi and the others. Molly's eyes widened in alarm and George got to his feet, moving slowly towards Ginny.
"Gin," Hermione sighed. "He's not going anywhere."
"Of course, he is. They're going to come and arrest him, don't you know that? Are you completely stupid?" Only then did Draco's eyebrow twitch.
Hermione's posture grew defensive then.
"Where is he going to go? Where is he going to go that the Ministry won't find him? Let's say such a place exists. Is he going to hide forever? There's a trace on him. What about Evander and Theo?"
"It's better than seeing their father rot away in Azkaban,"
Hermione flinched.
"Enough now, Gin." George whispered, large hand coming down on her shoulder. Molly was crying then, Arthur doing his best to comfort her.
"No, it's not. It's not fair. What did they ever do?"
Draco arched an eyebrow at her.
"Oh sod off, Malfoy. You know bloody well what I mean." She turned back to her older brother. "He's proved himself. Ron and Percy want to just – It's not fair. You know it's not." She yelled in George's face.
"Calm down, now." Arthur chided gently.
"I won't. Why don't you talk to your son?"
"He won't listen to me. We haven't spoken in years. None of us have. That's even if we could get in touch with him. He's sent back your mother's sweater every year. He's made it very clear he has no interest in a conversation."
"Harry will have thought of something." she said vehemently.
"He hasn't. He wouldn't have told Draco to leave if he had, you know." Hermione said.
"We'll testify for you, then." Ginny said to Draco. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in what could have almost counted as a smile.
"Course we will." George echoed. "But let 'em go home, eh? Before the calvary comes." Ginny deflated before crossing her arms and looking back and forth between Hermione and Draco, angry as hell.
Draco stood then and glanced at the boys, then at the Weasleys.
"Thank you." He said before striding into the other room, gathering the boys and walking straight into the Floo.
"Draco!" Ginny shouted. He paused and then she was barreling into him from behind, hugging him tight enough that he was forced to release Evander's hand and Theo shrieked in discomfort. "They'll be safe." She whispered, directly into his ear, quietly enough that nobody else could hear. The slightest bit of tension released from his shoulders and if possible, Ginny gripped him tighter. "I've got them." He nodded and sharply dragged in a breath that felt as thick as water, choking him. "Okay." She pulled back, straightening her clothes, and looking at Hermione.
"We have a trace on you." Percy Weasley's statement had read.
"Draco," Arthur called as Hermione gathered her things and hugged people goodbye. He glanced at the older man. "Us Weasleys have a cavalry of our own you know."
"Pardoned or not, we will find you."
Draco nodded and looked to Molly, whatever hidden fear he felt surfaced just barely in his eyes and she gave him a calm, strong smile.
"There is no place you can hide, no distance you can run where we will not find you."
Hermione joined him at the Floo and they stepped inside, both standing tall and firm and together as she called out their address and threw the dust on the floor.
"Justice will be served. It is long overdue."
Draco led the boys up to bed, brushing away Hermione's help as he dressed them. He picked up Theo, hugging him long and hard, lips pressed to his forehead before laying him down and tucking him in to his crib. The oldest Malfoy's breath was speeding up as he steeled himself to turn and face his oldest son.
"Father," Evander said quietly. Draco's breath hitched and his hand was seconds away from splintering Theo's crib. "It's okay, dad." His eyes fell shut and he fought his spasming lungs. Then a small hand slipped into his and tugged as hard as it could. "Up please." He ordered. Draco obeyed, lifting Evander into his arms, finally opening his eyes as the boy's hands came to rest on either side of his face. "You're going away." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He knew, somehow. He always did.
"Yes,"
"Are you going somewhere bad?"
"Yes,"
"Are you scared?"
"Yes,"
Evander nodded, a thoughtful look overtaking his features.
"When will we see you again?"
Draco cleared his throat.
"I'm not sure, Evander."
He nodded again.
"Will we see you again?"
Draco smiled sadly and tilted his forehead against Evander's.
"I love you. No matter what, do you understand? No matter what you hear, no matter what happens."
"I know, father."
"Take care of your mother?" he whispered.
"And Theo." Evander added firmly. Draco nodded his confirmation. "Dad, you're squishing me."
Draco loosened his grip and walked towards Evander's bed, setting him down. He knelt beside it and pulled his signet ring off of his hand, holding it in his palm and drawing his wand. The pad of his thumb ran back and forth over the raised M as he breathed. Draco charmed the thing, growing and transforming it until it was a little bracelet that fit Evander's wrist perfectly. The boy stared at it, then at his father who smiled and ruffled his son's hair before standing to leave.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob when Evander spoke.
"I love you no matter what too."
"Goodnight, son." Draco smiled tightly over his shoulder.
The minute the boys' bedroom door shut behind Draco and he saw Hermione standing there with tear tracks down her red cheeks, beautiful and pregnant and a face that told him she was trying just as hard to be strong for him as he was for her, he collapsed. His knees hit the ground and he clung to Hermione's hips; face buried in her belly as he cried silent tears. They soaked into her shirt and he breathed erratically against her, twisting the shirt into his hands as if that grip could keep him there, in his house, with his family.
He felt Hermione's tears dripping into his hair as her fingers wove into the strands of it at the back of his head. Then came a nudge against his cheek that startled both of them. He froze and pulled back, staring at the spot his face had been resting against moments before. Then he looked up at Hermione to see that she was watching with watery eyes and a teary smile.
"Is that-" she nodded. He laughed breathlessly only for the smile to fade as he pressed a kiss against the cloth covered skin. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
"Draco…" Hermione frowned. "You'll be there." He sighed. "You will." Her voice grew louder. "You will, because I cannot do this- all of this," she waved her hand around her wildly. "by myself. I just can't."
"Yes, you can." He said calmly, getting to his feet. "And hush, before you wake them." He nodded his head behind him, grabbing her hand and towing her around the corner and down the stairs to the sitting room. "Brightest witch of our age, and all that. You can handle anything, Granger."
"That was before!" she shouted. "Before the War, and – and before everything that happened in the War Draco. That was before I stopped being able to walk down the street by myself and before I had to sit with my back to a wall. That was before you." Her face was red as she turned suddenly, grabbed a glass off the bedside table and chucked it at the wall.
"Reparo," Draco muttered. The shattered glass flew back together. "You're angry."
"Angry?" She scoffed. "Of course, I'm angry. After everything you've done for their cause, the Ministry is-"
"You're cross with me too, Granger."
"No –"
"You are."
"No, I –"
"It's okay," his voice was like gravel; rough and crumbly and harsh. "You're allowed to be."
Her teeth were digging into her lip so hard it was turning white.
"I don't want to be." She snapped.
"I know."
"You promised."
"I know."
"I don't want to be alone again."
"I know, Granger."
"Stop saying 'I know', Malfoy."
"Okay," he smirked slightly.
"Git," she hissed. "We're going to fight this you know. I'll – I'll research and I'll interview everyone, I collect the memories from all of the good things and – "
"Granger…"
" – and Harry will pull your records from work. I'll find a good lawyer – "
"Granger, stop,"
"I'll get in touch with Neville, maybe he will – "
"Hermione, shut up." she froze and glared at him. "You'll do none of that." He crowded her against the wall, backing her up until her back hit the hard surface and she gasped. His hands came up, landing on either side of her head until she was boxed in.
"You're mad if you think –"
"I'm going to tell you exactly what you'll do. Are you listening?" she arched an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes at him. "You're going to stay home. You're going to rest. You're going to take care of Evander and Theo, spend time with your friends, and grow a human for Merlin's sake." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. "You're not going to work yourself to death over this."
"Then you don't know me at all," She laughed sadly.
"Please, Hermione."
"No,"
He sagged then, head tilting forward to rest against her shoulder.
"'till death do us part, and all of that." She smiled, twining their fingers together, and pulling his hand to her lips so that she could kiss his ring finger. Out of the corner of his eye, he followed her movement down to the smallest tic of a muscle. Her heart pounded hard enough that he could feel it in his chest. The swell of her stomach that housed their baby pressed against his abdomen and the emotion was welling up again; fast and furious and all consuming – a tidal wave of anger, despair and fear.
"This can't be your life. This can't be the children's lives. I won't let it."
"It won't be. We'll win. We will end this, Draco."
What if, this time, they couldn't beat this? What if his luck had run out? What if they lost and the Dementors Kiss forced him to forget? What if it forced him to be incapable of loving his wife – his kids. What if he rotted away in Azkaban; missed his children's birthdays, Christmases, the birth of their baby? What if he broke his promise and left her?
Hermione – who's arms were wrapping around his waist, face pressing against the pulse point at his throat.
"I'll fight for you. Always. You know that." She whispered. In her embrace, the tremors running through his body became more evident and she held him tighter.
"Granger," his voice was still strong, still entirely Malfoy regality.
"Hm?"
He hesitated long enough that she pulled back and looked him in the eyes. Warm brown on cold steel. The steel wall was falling away. It was breaking down and revealing broken pools of silver full to the brim with that same anger, despair and fear.
The understanding in Hermione's eyes bubbled over into a sad little smile that crushed whatever resolve remained in Draco Malfoy. His hand was crushing hers, both turning white as he held on for dear life – afraid that any moment somebody would break down their door and rip him away.
"Say it." She whispered, reaching up to stroke the sharp angles of his face. "You're not weak, Draco. Say it."
His breath left him in a stuttered rush as he forced himself to unclench his hand from around hers, rubbing some feeling back into her fingers.
"I'm scared, Hermione."
3 A.M. came around and Draco was reclined on the couch, Hermione sprawled across him as he drew lazy circles on her belly. They held one another and they tried not to look at the clock or the door – instead, staring at each other, memorizing each other and peppering each other with gentle kisses wrought with desperation and goodbyes.
At 3:45 A.M., the Floo roared to life and the fear clawing its way up Draco's throat suddenly tasted a lot like bile. Hermione's fingers tightened painfully in his hair and a small "no" fell from her lips.
It was Harry Potter that stood in their fireplace. He was pale and looked visibly nauseous with guilt.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I tried. I really did." Harry said quietly. "I asked if I could be the one to bring you in." he said solemnly. Draco grimaced. "I'll give you a minute to say your goodbyes."
"Not necessary." Draco responded, standing and helping Hermione to her feet as well. He tugged her into another rough hug.
"I'll get you out." The promise was audible. He sighed and began to pull away from her, only to be stopped by her fist twisting into the collar of his shirt and pulling him back. "I will. You do not give up. You're good. You are more than your past. You remember that."
He nodded once and the pain in his eyes caused tears to well in Hermione's again – Harry's too if he was being entirely transparent. Then Draco's large hand and long fingers were wrapping around the back of Hermione's neck, pulling her hard until their lips collided.
"'til death do us part." He mouthed.
"Alright," Harry cleared his throat. "We'd best be going before they send someone else to finish the job." Draco nodded; eyes still locked firmly on Hermione's. He fidgeted for a moment before something cold and round was pressed into Hermione's palm and Draco was being placed into handcuffs. "I'm sorry 'Mione." She gave Harry a halfhearted smile, watching him lead her husband towards the Floo with a loose grip on his bicep.
Hermione felt a heartbeat fluttering in her fist then and as she uncurled it, she saw the counterpart to her own wedding band sitting in the middle of her shaking hand. By the time she looked upwards again, Draco and Harry were gone and she was left with a ring charmed to pulse with Draco Malfoy's heartbeat.