Chapter 3
They were still sprawled out on the floor, enjoying their wine and keeping an eye on the kids, when there was a scraping at the front door. Not the knock they were expecting to announce the arrival of their food, but the sound of a key being inserted into a lock. A moment later the door swung open and Harry Potter strolled in. Somehow, Hermione had failed to even consider his reaction to Malfoy's presence, or how she was going to explain it.
"Daddy!" James yelled, popping up and running to his father.
"Daaaaaa!" Albus shrieked. Still unsteady on two legs, instead he used all four limbs to power himself over to his dad.
Scorpius, having been abandoned by his playmates, once again set his sights on Hermione. He had just gotten himself settled on her lap when Harry turned his attention to her. His boys were slung over each shoulder, like sacks of potatoes, as he walked fully into the room. Their giggles were a stark contrast to the dark look on their father's face.
"Am I interrupting something?" He asked, his voice deceptively calm as he eyed their wine glasses suspiciously.
She wanted to roll her eyes. What exactly was he suggesting? That they were on some kind of date? With two babies and a toddler?
"Of course not," she said. "You're earlier than I expected but that means you're in time for dinner. Good thing we ordered plenty. You can't leave before we've eaten, I've promised James noodles. Did you take the tube here?" She asked conversationally, refusing to act like there was anything unusual about this situation.
"Can I talk to you?" He requested with an odd lilt to his voice.
She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.
"Alone?"
"You're being rude." She gestured with her eyes toward Malfoy.
His returning glance said, 'are you kidding me?' so clearly that he may as well have spoken out loud. She just glared at him.
He sighed. "Hello Malfoy, you don't mind if I speak with Hermione for a moment in private, do you?"
"Of course not," Malfoy answered crisply, turning towards Hermione, "in fact, maybe we should go."
"Nonsense," she insisted. "I asked you to stay and the food hasn't even arrived yet, Harry and I will be just a minute."
She was surprised that he didn't object any further, but didn't dwell on it. She simply handed Scorpius to him and dragged herself up off the floor to make her way over to Harry, who was visibly hesitating. Finally, he put both of his children down.
"Be good for Mal- Mr. Malfoy. Aunt Hermione and I will be right back."
With that she grabbed his wrist and pulled him all the way to the back of her flat and into her bedroom. As soon as the door was shut she hastily erected a silencing charm, and it was none too soon as he rounded on her.
"You let him around my children!" He stepped towards her, his posture menacing. "How dare you put them in that kind of danger!" He accused.
She stood up a little taller, her spine straight, her eyes narrowed. And she marched right into his space, so close their chests were almost brushing. She glared defiantly up at him. She'd brought him back to the bedroom expecting to hear about his surprise at Malfoy's presence in her flat. She even expected him to be a little worried about their old enemy's intentions. She never expected this, and frankly, she resented the hell out of it. She knew Harry was having a terrible week. Halloween had been Tuesday, the divorce yesterday, but that did not excuse this kind of behavior.
"How dare you?" She asked, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. "How dare you insinuate that I would ever put them in any kind of danger! Do you think I would have let him anywhere near them if I thought there was even the slightest chance that he would harm a single hair on their heads? I wouldn't, and you know it. You trust my judgment, otherwise you wouldn't have left them out there with him!" She poked his chest forcefully. "I know you're having a terrible time of it right now, and you can't yell at any of the people you're actually angry with, so you're grabbing onto this excuse and taking it out on me. Well, back down Harry James Potter, I will not stand for it!"
He deflated immediately, as she'd known he would. He was never very successful at maintaining his anger with her, and he was too inherently good to risk hurting her when she didn't deserve it- it was a symptom of his 'saving people thing.'
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you've been wonderful, and of course I trust you." He took her into his arms. "I just don't understand why you'd invite him into your home. I mean, you can't be shocked that I was surprised to see him," he murmured into her hair.
"You haven't had a bad thing to say about him in years," she countered.
"That may be true, but I'm not inviting him to tea either." His tone was still a little too sharp for her liking and she backed out of his embrace.
"Maybe we should have. Maybe somebody should have a long time ago," she said, crossing her arms defiantly and meeting his eyes as she voiced a thought that she'd been mulling over for most of the afternoon.
"What?" He asked, obviously confused.
"We all knew that he was different, I mean it's obvious. And we've known it for years. I've heard it remarked on more than once about how much he seems to have changed. But none of us could be bothered to reach out to him. Wasn't that hypocritical of us? We are supposed to be the open minded unprejudiced side, aren't we?"
Harry actually looked slightly guilty at that pronouncement.
"Give him a chance," she encouraged, "we've had a really nice afternoon." She fidgeted a bit, as she gathered her courage. "I'd like to try and be friends."
"How did this even happen?" At least now he just sounded curious.
She shrugged. "I ran into him in the apothecary. Scorpius has been having a lot of trouble teething apparently, and I gave him some advice. We talked, he helped me gather my ingredients, and I offered to give him the tube of gum cream I had here. We used the floo at the Leaky. You can ask Hannah, he was actually making jokes at his own expense. He's not the boy we knew at school," she said, a hint of pleading in her voice.
He looked at her closely. "And you've just been hanging out here all afternoon?"
"Basically, he was fairly fascinated by the telly. Scorpius was already asleep when we got here. I put Albus down and then he, James, and I watched 'The Lion King.' We've just been playing with the kids and talking since then. He's been really great with James and Albus, they seem to like him. Just give him a chance, that's all I'm asking," she cajoled.
"Okay," he agreed with a sigh, and then he grinned at her. "But only for you."
She threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you Harry," she murmured. When she pulled away he put his arm around her shoulders companionably. "We need to get out there before the food arrives," she added. "There's no way Malfoy has muggle money and the robes would raise questions."
"This should be interesting," he said a little too cheerfully to be genuine as he led her back out to the living room.
Not ten seconds later there was a knock at the front door.
"I'll get it!" Harry called. Hermione decided not to fight him. He could pay for dinner after his little display in the bedroom. She hoped he realized later that he'd bought Malfoy a meal - the entire idea amused her to no end.
Hermione had only a small dining area, but they made it work by transfiguring highchairs for Albus and Scorpius, and spreading the cartons across the table so that everybody could help themselves. As he got settled in, James could be heard singing a little tune of his own making about how much he loved noodles.
"You're teaching my kids to like weird things," Harry groused.
"Oh please, I'm saving you three from having the most boring palates in England. And don't even pretend you don't like it, you're a terrible liar."
It was an old argument between them. One they had every time she suggested eating something that was outside traditional English fare, and one she'd long ago won but he always raised anyway. He scowled at her playfully as he fixed a plate of some of the beloved noodles for James. She snickered at Malfoy who was sniffing at a jar of the baby food she'd provided suspiciously.
"It's the same stuff you could get at one of our grocers, just with different labeling," she explained to him, and laughed when his eyes widened as he realized he'd been caught. "In my experience food is largely the same in both worlds except you can get a larger variety in muggle restaurants. Like you said, you had to go all the way to Thailand to find a wizarding establishment that served Pad Thai."
He just nodded and started feeding Scorpius the mashed carrots he'd been holding. She happily scooped a bit of each of her favorite dishes onto her plate and settled in to eat. James was happy as a clam and he continued to hum his song to himself as he ate. Albus also seemed to enjoy some of the blander dishes that Harry had chosen for him, and scooped onto the tray of his highchair. Scorpius- the youngest of the three- wasn't allowed any of the Thai food but, as she suspected he would be, was perfectly content with the muggle baby food.
She was having a hard time not laughing at Harry and Malfoy. They were studiously eating their meals and helping their children eat as well. But what was funny were the surreptitious glances they kept shooting each other. It was as if each of them were fully expecting the other to jump up from the table and start shouting about slimy Slytherins and ferrets, or stupid Gryffindors and scar heads. She'd achieved quite the coup by getting them to sit around the same table and share a meal, and she felt more than a little smug about it.
"Boys," she snorted quietly to herself. But Harry heard her, or possibly he was just that in tune with her thoughts.
"Hey!" He protested. "I'll have you know that I am a man, and I no longer have the emotional range of a teaspoon."
"You're right," she quipped, "you've expanded to a tablespoon."
"You're mean." He turned to James for support. "Aunt Hermione's mean, isn't she?"
"Don't tell him that!" She also turned to James. "You don't think I'm mean, do you James?"
He didn't even look up from his food. "Aunt Hermione is the best," he said without hesitation.
Hermione shot Harry a look full of self-satisfied triumph, and then looked back to James whose full concentration was still on his noodles.
"They did always say the way to a man's heart was through his stomach," she mused.
Harry burst out laughing. "I hate to break it to you love, but if that's true you're out of luck. You're an absolutely horrendous cook. It may be the only thing you can't do."
"I'm not that bad!" She protested.
"You burn pasta," he countered. "All you have to do is boil the water, put the dry pasta in the pot, and stir occasionally. And you still muck it up. You're hopeless."
There was a snort from the other side of the table where Malfoy was sitting. Hermione was surprised to feel a pang of hurt at his derision. How quickly his opinion had begun to matter to her.
"Something you'd like to add?" She asked challengingly, cocking one eyebrow.
"Just that Potter's completely daft," he drawled, sounding for the first time like the Malfoy she remembered from Hogwarts.
"Thanks so much," Harry answered wryly.
Malfoy just continued talking like he hadn't been interrupted.
"Chefs are a dime a dozen, and you can always hire one. Your brain is one of a kind. Any man who would trade the latter for the former is obviously moronic."
There was a beat of complete silence. Hermione could feel herself blushing and cut her eyes to Harry who was giving Malfoy a wide and rather disturbing smile of approval. At least Malfoy's behavior was confirming what she'd told Harry about how he'd changed. She just wished the evidence of her pleasure at his implied compliment wasn't painted across her cheeks.
"Thank you, Malfoy," she said quietly.
"Hey," said Harry, playfully holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I wouldn't trade Hermione for anything. Anyway, she bossed her way into my heart when I was eleven." He gave her an exaggerated wink.
And then, in a clear demonstration of approval Harry turned to Malfoy and started asking him about his business. They finished up the meal, and while Harry was doing his best to be cordial, it was fairly obvious that he was still wary of the blond. It was also apparent that, in turn, his presence made Malfoy uncomfortable. She wondered what the difference was. Why she and Malfoy could be so at ease with each other. It was probably the fact that they were both men, she eventually concluded. But, whatever the reason, she was unsurprised when Malfoy made his excuses shortly after dinner.
"Thank you for everything, Granger," he said, facing her where they stood in front of the floo. "I'll owl you about that issue we were discussing earlier, and let you know if it works out."
It took her a second to realize that he was talking about his divorce and her suggestion to help expedite it. He was offering to keep her updated. She hadn't expected that.
"Oh!" She exclaimed. "I hope it does, good luck! And no thanks are necessary. I had fun with the two of you. As for you," she stepped forward and grazed Scorpius' cheek with her fingertips, "you must come back and see me or I'll miss you. I'll even let you bring your father." She smiled mischievously at the man in question.
He rolled his eyes but, his mouth lifted slightly at one corner. They looked at each other for several long beats, and she unsuccessfully willed herself not to color under the intensity of his gaze. He winked at her and turned back towards the floo.
"Goodnight Granger," he said simply over his shoulder.
"Night," she responded softly as he disappeared into the flames.
She wondered when, and if, she'd ever get to spend time with them again. Would it be too forward of her to offer to babysit Scorpius? She'd told him the truth, she would miss him if she didn't get to see him. She thought she would probably miss his father as well.
"Okay, what was that?" Harry interrupted her quiet moment of contemplation.
"What are you talking about?"
"That," he pointed to the fireplace.
"I don't know what you mean," she lied. She'd just had an intimate enough moment with Malfoy to have forgotten Harry was even there. It was too much to ask that he hadn't noticed.
"Oh pleeeeease, if the two of you had been alone he'd still be here and you'd be snogging by now," he teased.
"We would not!" She scoffed haughtily. "He's married, and anyway, he's not interested in me that way," she finished more quietly.
"So you admit that you're interested in him that way?"
"No! Like I said, he's married."
"From what I hear he won't be for long, and everybody knows they've been separated for months," he shrugged.
"You know how I feel about cheating," she said firmly.
His face softened and he walked up to her until he was close enough to grasp both of her upper arms and look her in the eyes.
"I do, and I respect that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have implied otherwise. I'm just saying that he likes you, and for some reason I don't totally hate the idea," he explained. Everything about him had gentled as he spoke.
She began to shake her head vigorously. He ignored her.
"Look at the evidence," he insisted. "He followed you home and he spent the whole afternoon with you. He jumped to your defense at dinner, and what he said made it obvious that he respects you. And the whole time I was here- Hermione, he was looking at you like he wanted to pounce on you. Except it was also wistful and, I don't know, almost awestruck- whatever it was kept me from wanting to pummel him into dust," he said while managing to sound some combination of disgusted and impressed.
"You're exaggerating," she said, too afraid to admit that she wanted him to be right.
"I'm not," he said firmly.
"It was just a nice day." She looked away from him hoping, that he wouldn't spot her lie, but knowing that she hadn't fooled him for a moment. He understood her too well.
"Well, whatever it is, you have my support. Just be careful," he said with a tone of finality, graciously letting her off the hook. The steel in his voice was both troubling and reassuring.
She bit her lip and considered her options. "I told him about Ron," she confessed.
Harry's eyebrows appeared ready to disappear into his hairline they'd traveled so far up his forehead in surprise. She understood why. Her relationship and subsequent break up with Ron was not something she ever willingly discussed.
"You did?"
She shrugged. "He was telling me about his divorce and I just felt like I needed to show him that I understood what it's like to misread a situation, and to not see what's happening right in front of you."
Harry seemed to be speechless for a moment. "How did he react?" He finally asked.
She bit her lip to suppress her smile. "He was so angry Harry," she said in a hoarse whisper. "I mean, I know he's never been Ronald's biggest fan, but he seemed genuinely offended on my behalf. He told me that I was so far out of Ron's league that it was like I was playing professional quidditch, and he was just tossing a quaffle around in the back garden."
Harry burst out laughing. "Man, he must really be smitten if he's comparing you to a professional quidditch player!" He choked out.
"Shut up Harry!" She punched at his arm.
He just kept laughing as her fists bounced off his bicep, doing no damage.
"I'm glad he understands your worth," he said seriously, once he'd calmed himself down, embracing her tightly.
Soon after that, Harry had to take the boys home in order to get them to bed on time. And Hermione was left with a cup of tea, a book, and her thoughts. Thoughts that didn't stray far from Malfoy for days.
00000000000
Hermione's thoughts were still on Malfoy when a large and especially regal looking owl arrived at her flat on Tuesday evening. So, she immediately had a hunch as to whom he belonged. The seal on the letter that he was carrying confirmed her suspicions. Malfoy had written her, as promised, and apparently his wretchedly expensive solicitors were good for something, because they had already contacted Astoria and her solicitor, and secured an agreement. As per Hermione's suggestion, Astoria would be allowed to reside in the French villa for the remainder of her life, and upon her death it would revert to the possession of the Black family. He would be a single man again in a matter of days.
Malfoy was effusive in his thanks and he expressed how much he and Scorpius had enjoyed her company on Saturday. He also asked to take her to dinner as thanks for her advice, though it was more of a demand than a request. And then, as if on cue, as she finished reading the letter, another owl arrived carrying an absolutely stunning arrangement of irises and calla lilies. There was a short note attached saying that the flowers were a token of his thanks and that he thought they were especially appropriate for her; a comment which needled at something in her brain. She gaped at the flowers for a moment then, on autopilot, she stepped over to her fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and called out her best friend's address.
She arrived in his sitting room and marched directly to the library. She located the book she wanted in moments. She was the one who'd organized this library in the aftermath of the war, when Harry was refurbishing Grimmauld Place, and since Ginny hadn't wanted to live there once they were married, it had remained the way that she designed it. Book in hand she marched into the kitchen where she found Harry and the boys in the middle of dinner. Barely registering their various greetings she threw the book onto the table. Harry looked rather shocked, probably at her rough treatment of a book. Normally, she wouldn't tolerate that kind of behavior, much less practice it herself.
"He sent me flowers!" She blurted, her voice abnormally high and a little hysterical.
"What?" Harry asked looking completely nonplussed, fork frozen in midair.
She took a deep breath. "Malfoy sent me flowers," she repeated very slowly, like he was an idiot for not figuring out what she meant right away.
"Oh."
"Oh? That's all you have to say, 'ohhhhh?'" She mocked.
He seemed to think for a moment, then set his utensils down and physically turned to face her. "I'm sorry," he said, but it sounded more like a question.
"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"
"Because you're upset?" he answered, as if he was unsure of his own reasoning.
She sighed and threw her hands in the air, and he let out an exasperated breath.
"Hermione, I really don't know what you want from me," he almost begged, and made a pitiful face which usually would have gotten to her, but that she was too far inside of her head at the moment to notice.
"Tell me what to do!" She practically screeched.
A tiny voice inside her head was telling her that she was acting unreasonably, but the sight of those flowers had sent the much bigger part of her into a panic. Being rather self aware, the fact that she'd panicked had scared her. Because it was not as if she'd never received flowers, and even much more extravagant gifts from men before- she'd had her share of ardent admirers, mostly wizards who, in her opinion, saw her as some kind of prize, winning the hand of the female third of the Golden Trio- but nothing had ever inspired such an intense reaction in her.
"Um, say thank you?" He told her hesitantly.
"Thank you?" She snorted incredulously.
"Well, yes, isn't that what you do when somebody gives you something?"
"Harry!" She exclaimed. "I'm not here for an etiquette lesson!"
He ran a hand through his hair and removed his glasses to vigorously rub his eyes. "I don't understand why you're so upset, or why you feel the need to do anything?" He was clearly becoming exasperated.
"Because it's Malfoy, Harry. Draco Malfoy sent me flowers! What does it mean?" She demanded, now fully hysterical.
"How am I supposed to know?" He whined.
"You're a boy!" She screeched, her voice breaking off at such a high pitch that it made Harry jump.
Albus imitated the sound and then began giggling. That was Harry's breaking point. He laughed so hard he slapped the table, and had to remove his glasses again to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. She felt her own lips twitching, finally admitting to herself how absurdly she was behaving, and what she must have looked like through his eyes.
"Merlin Hermione, I haven't seen you this unhinged since we were studying for O.W.L.s!" He gasped between bouts of laughter.
"This isn't funny, Harry!" She moaned as she plopped down on the bench next to him and laid her head on his shoulder.
The scarred kitchen table and the long benches were some of the only things Harry had kept from the time Grimmauld Place had served as headquarters of The Order of the Phoenix. They were a bittersweet reminder of the meals they'd shared with long-dead comrades. She'd been a teenager then, but now she felt more like one than she ever had. Harry put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"Why are you so freaked out? It sounds like he did something nice, which is good, right? I mean, you were the one who stood in your bedroom and went toe to toe with me swearing that he had changed and that you wanted to be friends."
"When was the last time you sent me flowers, Harry?"
There was a long pause.
"I feel like I need to apologize again," he said guiltily.
She chuckled and patted his knee a little condescendingly.
"That wasn't a criticism. I was simply pointing out that friends, no matter how dear, rarely send each other flowers."
"So, you think he wants to be more than just friends?"
"No," she answered immediately, "I mean, how could he? I'm muggle born."
"Is that what this is about?" Harry sighed "He's changed, Hermione. He convinced me of that much. And, furthermore, he would be lucky to have you." He gave her shoulders a little squeeze.
"You're forgetting his parents." She poked gently at his ribs with her elbow.
Harry didn't have anything to say to that.
"What is this?" He eventually asked, holding up the book she'd flung at him when she walked into the room, after several minutes of tense silence.
"It's a book on the language of flowers," she explained with a small sigh.
"The what of what?" He wrinkled his nose in confusion.
"Flowers have different meanings. They can be used to speak symbolically, of course, to the recipient, and to send them a message," she intoned, automatically slipping into lecture mode.
He opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He frowned, clearly deep in thought, and then eventually responded. "Mione, I think you're really reading too much into these flowers," he said hesitantly.
She'd thought so too, at first, but now she wasn't so sure. Especially since she'd reacted so automatically to come find this book.
"Am I? Because in his note he specifically said that the flowers were especially appropriate for me. And let's not forget, he comes from a family that keeps books like this one in their libraries. Also, during the Victorian era this," she gestured to the book,"was extremely popular and you and I both know the wizarding world has never really moved out of that period."
He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Okay," he flipped the book open, "so what kind of flowers did he send you?"
"Purple irises and white calla lilies."
Harry flipped through the book until he found the appropriate section and his eyebrows slowly began to travel up his forehead as he read it to himself. He'd always had such an expressive face, and while she usually found that reassuring, now it was just making her antsy.
"Well, what does it say? Why do you look so shocked?" She demanded, and resisted the urge to rip the book away from him and read it herself.
He cleared his throat. "Irises represent eloquence. Purple irises further symbolize wisdom and compliments." He searched more quickly through the book to find the next relevant section, apparently as anxious as she was to see what the second flower meant. "Calla lilies represent magnificence and beauty, and white ones also denote purity and innocence."
They stared at each other for a long moment.
"So maybe he was trying to tell you something," he admitted slowly, physically shaking himself, and looking down at the book and then back at her. "Merlin, Hermione he just described you with a flower arrangement," he concluded with amazement.
"What? No," she said firmly. That couldn't possibly be the way that Malfoy saw her, could it?
"As your best friend, I can tell you for certain that you are a beautifully magnificent, wise woman, who has the purest soul of anybody I've ever met and who could express herself with eloquence even when she was eleven. And I can only assume he wants to send you compliments, though he probably means all of this in a much less brotherly way than I do."
She bit her lip and admitted to herself that she wanted him to be right.
"You think?"
"I do," he said with conviction.
"So what do I do now?" She asked him, feeling almost shy.
"Owl him back, I guess. This kind of thing really isn't my strong suit, you know. I mean, I did just get divorced."
She ignored his self deprecation. "He said he wanted to take me to dinner, to thank me. Well, honestly, he just told me that he was going to. He didn't leave a whole lot of room to refuse."
Harry snickered. "He may have changed, but he's still Malfoy. Anyway, is that a problem? Do you want to refuse?"
"No," she confessed, biting her lip and shaking her head.
"Are you calm now?"
"Yes, I'm better. Sorry to have just barged in here." She was a little embarrassed by her behavior. But this was Harry, he'd certainly seen worse and would never judge her.
"You know you're welcome here anytime. And, frankly, after I realized that you were okay, that was a pretty good show." He grinned crookedly at her, his vivid eyes dancing with mirth.
She shoved him playfully and he gave her shoulders a squeeze.
"I guess I should go owl him back. Thanks again Harry."
She stuck her head under the table to say a goodbye to the boys. They'd retreated there to play after they finished their dinner, having grown bored with the adults' conversation. Then she went home and wrote several drafts of a letter to Malfoy before she finally decided that the last one was adequate, and sent it off.
Author's Note: Thank you to Weestarmeggie for beta-reading, I'm especially grateful considering the length of the chapters I keep throwing at her. Thanks to you all for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! I so appreciate it, you guys are wonderful!