Chapter 5: Painting the Roses Red
Hermione willed herself to breathe normally as she slumped gracelessly onto the floor next to the floo, not even bothering to wipe the ashes from her dress. She heard footsteps nearing the study, so she cast a quick finite to cancel her disguising charms. A light knock on the door set her slightly more at ease, knowing Kingsley and his damned Auror-level perception wouldn't be intruding on her.
"Come in," she called softly as she stood and righted her appearance. The door opened, admitting a short, auburn-haired witch clutching a precarious stack of stuffed animals and children's books to her chest.
"Hermione," the witch huffed out, concentrating on balancing the mess in her arms and propping the door open with her foot. "Thought I heard you! Would you mind giving us a hand, love?"
Hermione smiled indulgently, crossing the room to put one hand on the door and relieve the poor girl of some of her burden with the other. Susan Bones was one of only a handful of people who knew the whole truth of their family. Though she had been required by Kingsley to take a magical vow of secrecy upon her employment as Callie's nanny, Hermione doubted it was necessary. The Hufflepuff was fiercely loyal, especially to the little girl she had formed such a close bond with. There were many days when she simply didn't know what she would do without her, and other days when she wondered what she could possibly be getting up to all these hours alone with Callie and Rosie.
"What in Merlin's name is all this, Sue?" she snorted.
"Miss Fairy Princess wanted to build a fort to protect us from the dragon," she stated matter-of-factly, gesturing behind her to what was clearly the remains of said fort and an undeniably miffed Crookshanks with transfigured dragon wings on his back. Hermione laughed in earnest now, the sound sending Crooks reeling before he settled on her couch, hissing angrily at her.
"And where is 'Miss Fairy Princess' now?" asked Hermione, placing the toys in a basket she'd conjured to make them easier to carry.
"Well, you know, being a princess is hard work. The little lady nodded off somewhere between building the turrets and ordering about her subjects," Susan snickered. "I'm sure she'll be up before the Minister returns, though."
"You know, you can call him Kingsley?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I believe he's asked you to more than once."
"Psshh," Susan waved her comment away. "You know he doesn't care either way. But don't think I don't know what you're doing," she pointed an accusatory finger at Hermione. "You're trying to get out of talking about your date!"
"What are you on about, Sue?" Hermione's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "What date?"
Her auburn-haired companion narrowed her eyes, gesturing wildly at the red sundress and her only slightly mussed hair. Hermione rolled her eyes and tutted. "Oh, it's nothing nicer than what I normally wear for lunch with Narcissa."
Understanding, then confusion lighted Susan's sharp cinnamon eyes. "You just had tea with Mrs. Malfoy last week. Was there some emergency gossip this last week that I am woefully unaware of?"
"Not that I know of," Hermione started slowly, "but you know, our tea was cut short last week when I was called in to the Ministry, and so she never got to finish telling me about Lady Parkinson fainting when Lady Greengrass announced Daphne's engagement to Dean Thomas."
Thankfully, Susan took the bait, hungrily devouring the story Hermione relayed to her while they finished cleaning the Hall and cancelling the transfigurations on Crookshanks. The girls piled on the couch, stroking the half-kneazle's head and scratching his chin until it seemed they were forgiven.
"You can take off now if you'd like, Sue. I can handle the munchkin, and I'm sure you have other things to do," Hermione sighed as she relaxed into the couch.
"If you don't mind, I'll stick around for a while. I started this book and I'd like to try to finish," she said, sheepishly holding up a worn copy of Accidental Magic in Young Witches and Wizards.
"You know you're more than welcome to take it home with you, but I do always enjoy your company." Hermione was surprised by Susan's relieved expression. "Are you avoiding something at home?"
"What? No!" Susan answered too quickly. "It's just—now that Hannah's moved to Hogwarts with Neville, the flat is a bit…"
Hermione's brows knit together in concern as she studied Sue's features. Her friend was a social creature, and it was not good for her to be alone for too long. An idea formed in her mind and it was forming words before she was able to consider the consequences. "Would you consider living here with us, love? I'd have to confirm with Kingsley, but you know we have the space and it would be incredibly convenient having you on hand at all hours for Callie if there was an emergency at the Ministry."
She didn't know how she had expected Susan to react, but the sobs that suddenly burst from her petite body were definitely a surprise. She put her arm around the girl's shoulders, not knowing how to handle a less than perfectly peppy Susan.
"Th-thanks, Hermione," she choked out. "Sorry, I just. Yes, I would love to stay here."
"Was there something else you wanted to talk about, Sue? I mean, you don't have to, obviously…" Hermione trailed off as Susan tried to compose herself.
"S-sometimes, I feel so…unnecessary. You know? Nobody needs me or particularly wants me around."
"Stop," Hermione interrupted her. A pang of guilt hit her stomach. Was her friend feeling this way because of her involvement in the Shacklebolts' lives? If she'd not been locked up at the Estate for the better part of her time, she might have been able to make new friends, possibly even find a boyfriend. The least she could do is let the girl know how very much she was needed. "You know very well that you are needed here. Callie loves you. We all do. But if you ever felt the need to leave us, we would understand. You need to take care of yourself, not be weighed down by our problems."
Susan took a few shaky breaths, then looked into her eyes. "I know that. I know I have people who love me. Aunt Amelia would go to pieces if I wasn't around. But still, I just feel like there's something missing, you know?"
Hermione did know. More than she would like to admit. Her family was the most important thing in her life. And her work, though she would prefer to be doing something else, was fulfilling. But there was always that hole in her heart that ached to be filled. She had assumed for a while that it was the absence of her best friends that instigated this longing. But perhaps there was something more to it. Whenever she saw the way Neville looked at Hannah, an unwelcome stab of envy pierced her. And she would think of Ronald, and the future they could have had together. She still didn't know, though, if it was him or that future that she was aching for.
"It's alright, love," Hermione said softly. "I understand. Now, how about you go gather some things from your flat and I'll help Rosie set up a room for you? We can speak to Kingsley about arrangements when he gets home." She gently squeezed Susan's arm and stood to find Rosie. There was much to be done, preferably before Callie woke.
**HGDM**
Narcissa Malfoy gave a small sigh as she demurely nibbled on a biscuit and tried to ignore Posey Parkinson's rambling about how she should be encouraging Draco to mingle more with "good society." Her eyes desperately wanted to roll, but she hadn't shown such impudence since she was a child and she certainly would not now, especially in this particular room full of witches. She wished, not for the first time, that Hermione could have been with her. What a riot they would have caused together!
". . . but certainly, even considering his reputation, he could find some acceptable witch. You are still one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Britain after all," Posey snorted.
Narcissa arched an eyebrow at the unpleasant noise. To her credit, Mrs. Parkinson had the grace to blush before continuing on her tirade. "Not my own daughter, of course!" Posey's look was surprisingly smug for someone whose daughter was engaged to the Nott boy who, though pureblood, had little standing in the magical community and a poorly hidden infatuation with young Mr. Zabini.
Narcissa smiled graciously though the expression didn't reach her eyes. The exasperating witch was trying to make her jealous! "Of course I had heard of her engagement to the Nott boy. It's a shame he couldn't do better," she shook her head in mock pity, "though I suppose one cannot be too particular when one is desperate."
Posey's mouth dropped open, properly scandalized. "Well I never!" She huffed then stormed off. She watched her leave for a moment in amusement. The irate witch's blonde locks whipped about her head and her magenta kitten heels clacked loudly against the marble floor, echoing through the now silent drawing room.
Once the clacking had receded, Narcissa sighed contentedly in the first true silence of the morning. She languidly finished off her tea and bid the rest of the ladies good morning, trusting that they could see their way to the floo. She made her way—soundlessly—to the door, leaving a trail of whispering witches in her wake. Once she'd left the room, she called Bitsy to clear away the tea service and make certain any stragglers were hurried along.
Having done with her tedious morning business, the lady of the Manor practically glided down the staircase to the conservatory and inhaled deeply with great relief the heady concoction of fresh herbs and flowers, each her favourite and each incredibly soothing. She sank into the nearest chair and closed her eyes, letting her chosen therapy relax her completely. She took several deep breaths before breaking the blessed silence.
"You know you don't have to hide in here, darling. In any case, they've all gone by now. Bitsy will have seen to it." She slowly opened one icy blue eye to reveal her only son standing before her in the shade of one of the taller indoor topiaries. She blinked both eyes open to examine him more thoroughly. Her son. Her pride and joy. Lately he had not been quite so joyful. Evinced, incidentally, by his current mutterings of "Every time" and random curses. She wanted to reprimand the boy, but as Lucius said, he was no longer a boy. As she studied him, she could see that it was so. Draco had become a man, albeit a miserable one. He was tall and lean and very handsome, much like his father, but with the Black eyes and more than his share of the Black temper.
**HGDM**
"Mother," Draco took her hand, bowing over it deferentially. He knew that if he wanted information, he would have to be polite and…careful. After having witnessed the way his mother interacted with Granger, he knew he couldn't say anything that would trigger her baffling protective tendencies.
"What brings you here today, darling?" her airy voice permeated the room as she inspected a nearby valerian plant.
"I have some questions for you," he tried to ease into the conversation.
"I knew you would," she sighed, "but be aware that I'm not sure how much I will be able to tell you."
He raised an eyebrow. Was it possible that Granger had extracted a secrecy vow from his mother as well? "What—" he began, but a sharp look from his mother silenced him.
"Before I tell you anything, I need to know what your intentions are with Ms. Granger," her tone was clipped and her eyes steely in their sincerity.
"What do you mean, mother?" he asked lightly.
"What is your interest in Hermione?" her narrowed eyes were the only clue to her rising impatience.
"I'm not sure. I saw her the other night and she was…different." He was having trouble getting the words out without invoking the vow. "And I've since learned something that made me question the gossips surrounding Granger and the Minister," Draco winced at his lame explanation.
"Ah, I see," the amusement shined in his mother's eyes momentarily before the hard mask reappeared. "Your curiosity in this circumstance will lead to nowhere but trouble." The warning in her voice did nothing to dissuade him.
"And what exactly is your interest in Granger, mother?" he barrelled on, his burning questions demanding answers.
"You may not recall, Draco," she pursed her lips, "but Ms. Granger saved your life."
"Well, I wasn't aware you were now prone to exaggeration, mother," he scoffed. Though she had been instrumental in his avoidance of Azkaban, he would hardly qualify that as "saving his life."
"Perhaps you had never been made aware?" she raised an eyebrow menacingly. "For if you had, and you spoke thus, I should be gravely disappointed in you."
"What are you talking about?" his confusion and impatience were evident.
"You are aware, I assume, that you were quite a…favourite of your aunt and uncle's?" she felt a slight twinge of guilt at her son's grimacing nod.
"When Rodolphus learned that Bella could not have children, he took steps with Gringott's to make you his heir, even above Rabastan." His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't known his uncle was quite so fond of him, only that he had high hopes for his future. Indeed, when he gained access to the Lestrange vaults after the war, he'd assumed it was because he was the only living male relative, per ancient customs.
"When they asked the Dark Lord to assign you a task, they meant it not only to prove yourself to him, but as their heir as well." She huffed, furrowing her brow. He hadn't known they had been the ones to secure his task with Voldemort, and it made him hate them that much more.
"When you failed to complete your task, Bella was convinced of your treachery. She planned to demand your execution," her voice cracked on the last word. "Rodolphus, though disappointed, was adamant that if you were given another chance, you would not fail a second time. He was sure that you would be an asset at Hogwarts and in the coming battle. When you disappointed him again, he wanted to kill you himself."
Tears leaked from his mother's eyes and she took a steadying breath before she continued. "During the battle, as we were walking away, Rodolphus made to follow us. His wand was raised to curse you in the back, but before he could, Hermione struck him down."
The finality of her words and the overbearing feeling of a life debt shook him to his core. "A-are you certain, mother?" he whispered.
"See for yourself," she sat up straighter, eyes open wide in invitation.
Draco reluctantly raised his wand and with a small nod from his mother whispered, "Legilimens."
The three Malfoys, all sallow, thin and terrified, were inching farther and farther from the battle. Lucius hurried them along toward the apparition point as soon as attention was everywhere but on them. As Narcissa finally turned to run full speed away from danger with her boys, an enraged scream could be heard above the din of battle, closer than she would have liked.
She turned just in time to see the green light of an Avada go just wide of her son. She traced the trajectory of the spell back to Rodolphus, eyes wide and manic, wand arm still outstretched. Fury filled her and her eyes locked on her brother-in-law's as his body exploded, scattering bits of flesh and sprays of blood in a wide arc from where he'd been. She gasped, briefly wondering if it could have been her own raw, unchanneled magic that could have killed him. But ration and reason returned to her as she searched out the source of her son's salvation.
Mere feet to the left of the ruined body of Rodolphus Lestrange was a young girl, Potter's friend. Hair sparked in a wild halo about her ashen face and blood was spattered across her face and body. But her wand was still raised and her eyes were set hard and fierce. For a split second, she saw that face crumble and tears well in her eyes before determination and rage returned and she was gone, fleeing back into battle.
He cleared his throat and stared, unseeing, into his mother's eyes. He knew that the look on Granger's face as she stood covered in his late uncle's blood was something he would never forget. The courage and raw power were something he couldn't even fathom. But for that one split second, she had looked so…broken. And she had done that to herself for him. He honestly didn't know what to feel about that. In any case, there was no wonder his mother felt so indebted to the witch, but that still didn't explain the closeness he'd observed.
"And after the war?" he pressed on, voice catching.
"One afternoon, I met Ms. Granger for tea to attempt to express my gratitude, though it's safe to say it was beyond words by this point," she smiled fondly. "We found that beyond being civil, our conversation was pleasant. Even so, I had not expected to repeat the experience, if it weren't for the fact that she asked a favour of me."
"What favour?"
She hesitated before answering, "She needed a recommendation for a Healer."
"Why would that lead you to meeting again?" he willed his brain to answer his own question in case she refused, but he could come up with nothing.
"I'm not sure I should be telling you this, because I'm not sure how much you know," she eyed him warily, but evidently decided to go on. "She had specific requirements for the Healer. She needed someone who could be discreet who specialized in Obstetrics."
"A midwife?" he asked cautiously.
"A Healer," she repeated, "she had been cursed by Dolohov, if you recall."
Her voice tapered and Draco knew he would be getting no more information out of his mother today. Still, he had yet to ask his most important questions. What of the relationship with the Minister and Granger? And was the child he'd seen really theirs? And what about the other woman who was at the Estate every day? And perhaps most importantly of all, why did the information he'd been given today seem to be carefully crafted to corroborate, rather than refute the stories in the Prophet?
After he had taken leave from his mother and returned to his flat, he grabbed a quill and scratched out a quick message before he could change his mind.
Granger,
I've just been made aware of what an arse I've been by prying into your life. I apologise for any discomfort or pain I have brought you and will endeavour to refrain from doing so again. That said, I would like to formally offer my friendship in the hope that I can, in time, repay some of the enormous debt I find myself owing you. If you accept, please consider meeting me for lunch next Friday in the same place as yesterday.
Sincerely,
Draco Malfoy
**HGDM**
Kingsley had had another in a never-ending series of long days. He hadn't planned on going into his office today, but there had been a small crisis in the Records department when a baby Hebridean Black, which was in the Magical Creatures department for transport, escaped and found its way to the Records room. Luckily, the damage had not been significant. The little guy had only managed to scare a few workers and singe a desk. The cabinets holding the innumerable files required to run a Ministry of this size had long since been spelled to resist fire and water. Nevertheless, there were repairs that needed to be made, statements for the Aurors to take, and a full-scale inquiry into transportation protocols in the Magical Creatures department to be carried out.
The process had been lengthy and dull, and the fact that it kept him from his Sunday routine with Callista was enough to make him quite irritable. When he exited the floo into the hall, his witches were nowhere to be seen or heard. His suspicions sprang forth instantly, his Auror instincts sharpening his senses to take in his surroundings. He moved almost soundlessly toward the main stairwell, listening closely for any sign of the girls. A tiny hint of a giggle rang in his ear and he relaxed slightly, a smirk curving his lips.
"Where, oh where, could my ladies be?" his deep voice resonated up the stairs. "If they don't come out, I suppose I'll have to eat these liquorice wands all on my own," he teased, shaking the box of sweets for effect. The high-pitched giggles intensified.
"Oi!" screeched Hermione as Callista rushed at him, jumping into his arms and reaching for the sweets.
"That's not from my secret stash, is it, Kings?" Hermione pouted. He laughed, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"Maybe you should find a better hiding place," he laughed.
"At least these two haven't found it yet," Hermione grumbled, tilting her head towards Susan and Callista.
"Just because I haven't tried yet, love," Susan laughed. "Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders!"
Kingsley smiled warmly at the two witches. Since he had wholeheartedly agreed to allow Susan to move into the Estate full-time, he hadn't seen Hermione so lively. Perhaps this arrangement would work well for all of them. When Susan blushed under his scrutiny, he cleared his throat. He couldn't be sure exactly what the girl was thinking, but it would be best to make his feelings plain to avoid hurt feelings in the future. He had tried not to notice her glances, but he realized that may not be the best way to handle the situation. He turned his attention to his daughter, kissed her cheek, and asked if she would like to visit her mother. The little girl enthusiastically nodded, and he resumed his walk upstairs, with Hermione trailing behind and Susan heading the opposite direction, looking wistful.
He approached the second door on the left and sighed. He was doing the best he could to keep his family together, and that now included Susan. Even so, he tried not to let sadness cloud his features as he entered his wife's room. He went to the head of the bed, allowing Callista to kiss her mother's face before caressing her cheek with his thumb. This woman, who possessed his heart, was slipping away from him. He wanted nothing more than to wake her so they could spend the time that she had left together, but some part of him still held out hope that a cure or counter-curse could be found in time. He kissed her petal-soft lips and willed it to be so. "Until tomorrow, my love," he said shakily.
"Say goodnight to mummy," Hermione told Callista softly.
"Night night, mummy," Callista said sleepily.
"Sweet dreams, Deelie," Hermione whispered as they left the room.