Chapter 3
Summons
A bright pop from outside her room made Hermione shoot up in her bed, her spine straight and her heart racing. Fumbling around the nightstand for her wand, she clenched her fingers tightly around the vinewood. No matter how much time had passed since the end of the war, she knew that it would never go away — this anxiety and hyper-awareness whenever there was a sudden sound. Even now, as she untangled herself from her sheets and stumbled towards the bedroom door, she could hear the words 'constant vigilance' ringing in her ears.
Slipping on her sensible and perfectly acceptable clogs, she slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. She scanned the hallway, her wand drawn in front of her and ready to cast a spell at any moment, when she heard a voice squeak, "Miss! Master Draco is asking Tilly to bring you to the Manor immediately!"
Her gaze dropped to see a frantic house-elf standing before her, clad in something that looked suspiciously like a tutu. Her eyes caught on the clock hanging on the wall in front of her and widened when she saw the time.
What could Malfoy possibly want from her at two o'clock in the morning?
Tilly tugged on her hand insistently, and Hermione groaned, realizing she had no choice in the matter. If Malfoy had to resort to calling her on a Saturday, and this late in the night — or this early in the morning, rather — it must be urgent. Glancing down her ratty camisole and loose pajama bottoms, she was about to tell the elf that she needed to change first when she felt a familiar tingle just under her navel.
She hardly had any time to process what was happening when she was swept away in a swirl of side-along apparition.
Hermione landed in an ornately decorated parlor and staggered slightly, still dizzy from the unexpected travel. Before she could get a chance to regain her balance, a piercing shriek assaulted her ears.
"About fucking time, Granger," she heard Malfoy grumble in his typical, entitled fashion as he emerged from a dark corridor, and she could make out the silhouette of a flailing Scorpius in his arms. So much for not swearing in front of the baby. "He's been like this for an hour now. I read him 'The Dancing Dragon' four bloody times; even that couldn't get him to stop."
Hermione couldn't help but smile at the thought of Draco Malfoy reading a toddler's book aloud to his son, but the smile quickly fell away when he stepped into the dim light of the parlor, coming into full view. Her eyes landed on his face, and she almost choked at the sight of his ever classy gold wire-rimmed glasses askew. In all her years of working with him, she'd never seen them with even a speck of dust on the lens, let alone sitting completely crooked on the bridge of his nose.
His nightwear was another thing entirely. It wasn't as if she expected him to sleep in his expensive, expertly tailored suit and robes, of course, but she certainly hadn't been prepared to see him in a cotton shirt and drawstring trousers. Drawstring trousers that hung dangerously low on his waist, revealing a sliver of the pale skin of his abdomen she had to actually force herself to look away from.
She couldn't help it, honestly. She hadn't been with anyone since Ron, and that had been over two years ago. Besides, it was past midnight and her mind was a bit boggled.
Another screech made her turn her attention back to Scorpius, and her heart broke at his distress. She knew how much pain he must be in right now — sharp teeth cutting through sensitive gums was bound to be painful. It was a good thing she knew how to help him. She hadn't been exaggerating when she said James had been even worse when he was teething.
Making her way over to where Malfoy was desperately trying to soothe the crying boy, Hermione came to a stop in front of him. Taking in his tired eyes, and drooping shoulders, she held her arms out so that she could relieve him of the added strain.
"Thank Salazar for you, Granger," he said, handing the baby over to her readily and collapsing backward onto the sofa with an undignified thump she didn't even think a man of his elegance was capable of making.
Scorpius didn't seem to understand how rattled she was by his father saying he was 'thankful' for her. He shifted in her grip instead, and she struggled to balance his weight evenly. He was a pudgy little thing and it made her think about how Malfoy could manage carrying him around work all day. It was no wonder he was so fit — not that she ever paid attention to that sort of thing, of course.
He was just too ridiculously fit to not notice.
Shaking her head, she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. She raised a hand to Scorpius' mouth and leveled her wand there. The baby seemed to recognize what she was doing from the day before and parted his quivering lips wide, tears trailing down his swollen, red cheeks. Bloody adorable child.
Muttering the incantation under her breath, she watched as the effect of it washed over him. He sniffled a little as his crying waned, and he snuggled into her breast. She'd only known this baby for two weeks, and he already felt like hers. Hermione smiled down at him, an odd combination of confusion and fondness blooming in her chest.
"I couldn't find anything about that spell in the Manor's library. None of the charms books I read had any mention of it," she heard Malfoy say.
She looked down to see the man spread across the couch, his eyes fixed on his son in her arms, and his jaw set in that way it did when he was thinking hard about something. "You won't find it in a book," she said. "I came up with it myself when I realized standard cooling charms don't have the same effect on sore gums."
A hint of pride shone through her. It had taken countless months of research, and a generous number of attempts to develop, but the charm remained to be one of her bigger accomplishments—
"Of course, you would invent your own spell, swot that you are," he managed through an impossibly elegant yawn, interrupting her thoughts. Apparently, his exhaustion didn't extend to his ability to snark at any given opportunity.
"As long as it helps, does it really matter who invented it?" she asked.
He shrugged as well as one could when sprawled across cushions. "Classic Gryffindor, always assuming everyone needs help all the time."
Her brows furrowed. "Well… they did this time, didn't they?"
"Maybe," he said, his eyelids drooping shut. Another equally elegant yawn betrayed his utter exhaustion. "Maybe not for the reasons you might think."
Were they still talking about Scorpius? Hermione was beginning to think they weren't. "Malfoy," she whispered, "What are you—"
"Anyway, you'll need to show me how to cast that charm sometime," he mumbled.
Hermione frowned as she watched the rise and fall of his chest even out. She wondered how much sleep he must be losing if he could drift off that easily, crammed between the cushions of the small couch. With his long limbs folded in awkward angles and gooseflesh rising on his skin from the cold, he couldn't possibly be comfortable.
She was just thinking of whether it would be too invasive of her to look around for a blanket when there was a pop from behind her.
Tilly wordlessly approached the couch, carrying a quilt that was surely twice her weight. When the elf staggered as she tried to spread the quilt over his sleeping form, Hermione moved forward.
"Oh, I can do that," she said quickly, using her free hand to take the end of the heavy quilt. "You don't have to overwork yourself, Tilly. You can go back to bed if you'd like." She wondered if Malfoy would even provide the poor creature with a bed, although if he'd already given her clothes — and a sparkly tutu, no less — a bed didn't seem too out of the question.
The elf almost sounded offended when she whispered, "Tilly is not going to bed again. She is already sleeping for so long! She is wanting to help her Masters." Straightening the quilt and making sure it covered his toes, she put her hands on her frilled hips and turned. "Tilly is putting Young Master to bed now."
Hermione considered saying she could manage the baby herself, but when she saw the green orb-like eyes narrow at her, she handed Scorpius over. Tilly's annoyance seemed to melt away when the baby relaxed into her arms, nuzzling his round cheek against her bony shoulder. She turned around and walked towards the same dark hallway, then stopped in her tracks.
"Tilly's family is serving the Malfoys for generations. She is taking care of Master Draco since he was being a baby and is taking care of Young Master now. She is loving to help them," she said firmly and continued down the corridor, Scorpius sleeping contentedly against her chest.
Hermione frowned a little, thinking back to second year when Dobby had said the exact opposite. She'd never known even one house-elf who had enjoyed serving the family they were bound to. Dobby, Winky, Kreacher, and most of the elves working in the Hogwarts' kitchen hadn't been treated right by their masters; forced to punish themselves for even the slightest mistake.
She knew that freeing the helpless creatures was the right thing to do. Just because this one elf enjoyed their servitude didn't mean that countless others should suffer.
Sighing, she started to walk towards the fireplace when her gaze caught on those damn glasses still crooked on Malfoy's nose. Bending down, she pulled them off and folded the temples back, putting them on the coffee table beside her. She righted herself and watched him for a moment longer. He looked different in his sleep — the tightness around his eyes gone and his usually set jaw relaxed.
Unguarded, she thought. Genuine. Real.
She shook the thoughts away and turned around to trudge to the mantel, her exhaustion finally catching up to her. Throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the embers, she stepped into the hearth and let the flames swallow her.
