7.
THE YEAR OF THE ROSE
July 9th, 2007.
It was hard for Hermione to put into the context of words what she'd just been through. Ron was sitting by her bed, eyes rimmed red, looking almost as exhausted as she felt, staring between her and the child she held in her arms.
He'd asked, far too soon in her mind, what it had felt like, had asked her to describe the experience to him. He wanted to understand. And she loved him for that.
First, had come the contractions, rather inconveniently, in the middle of dinner with Isobel and Susan at home. Ron was out, late home from work and Hermione had felt no different to what she had always felt when pregnant: bloated and uncomfortable.
There'd been the moment, the horrible realisation of what was happening as she ploughed her way through a three inch thick steak with mashed potato and Diane sauce. She'd tried to frantically deny it at first, trying to convince herself that the sharp, knife like pains were nothing more than indigestion caused by the monumental amount she'd eaten. But then, Hermione was far too logical to indulge in that delusion for too long.
She'd eventually dabbed her mouth with her napkin, laid it down on the table in front of her, and said quite calmly, "I'm having contractions."
What happened after that was a rather confusing blur. She was aware of all the people around her, the yelling, the running, the joyful tears. But all she'd felt was pain, then nothing, then more pain. It was a teasing dance of torture followed by relief.
They hadn't gone to the hospital right away, her contractions were too far apart. But Harry and Ron had come home, Ginny and Hermione's parents had arrived soon after and Padma had shot through the fireplace the very moment word had reached her.
There was a lot of pacing and groaning on Hermione's part. And a lot of rather confusing mood swings. One second, she wanted them all out of her house, wanted them to leave her alone, but the next she felt like she'd die if they did so.
When they'd finally tramped off to the hospital, through the floo network, Hermione was barely capable of constructing sentences. She was far too focused.
And after that… well… there was nothing but pain and pressure and tightness and stinging and tearing. She vaguely remembered wondering why everyone around her was smiling during the ordeal and vaguely remembered politely asking them to stop. Or maybe she hadn't been so polite…
Three hours later though, they gave her this… this child. And they told her it was hers.
"Here's your daughter," one of the healers had said, beaming and handing her what looked like a bundle of blankets.
When she held Rose for the first time… It was something completely unreal to her. Total sensory overload.
She'd never spent real time holding babies before, and had always thought she'd be crap at it, but for some reason, Rose just fit. In the most perfect way. Hermione did not cry or laugh, she could only stare at the messy, gunk covered, alien looking thing in her arms. She was vaguely aware of Ron jumping up and down, high fiving the healers and Isobel, Ginny and her Mum standing by the bed, hugging and sobbing.
All that just felt like something in the background though. Because no matter how ugly the kid was, and Rose was ugly, Hermione thought she was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in the entire world and couldn't begin to understand the love she was feeling for her new daughter. The kind of love that went absolutely beyond anything and everything. She didn't love anyone like she loved Rose.
But how could she say all that to Ron? She didn't even know where to start. And she didn't want to offer him some half-hearted description, he deserved more than that.
"I'll write it down, one day. And you can read it. But… but I can't think right now," said Hermione eventually staring down at her daughter.
Ron nodded in understanding then asked quietly, "Would it be alright if I asked how you feel?"
She chuckled, "Physically? Worse than I did after spending an hour with Bellatrix Lestrange. But emotionally I feel better than I ever have."
He smiled a smile that came from the very middle of himself.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked, standing up and whipping the tears from his eyes.
"Chocolate," Hermione replied instantly.
Ron grinned and left the room, leaving Hermione alone with Rose.
It was late now, about three am, and quiet. Harry, Ginny, Isobel and Hermione's parents had gone back to her house to clean up a bit and set up the crib for Rose. Hermione was eager to leave, but the healers had not given her the all clear just yet.
It was strange to think that the tiny person in her arms had been inside her body only two hours ago. For the last nine months Rose had been nothing more than a thing, really. Something that caused Hermione discomfort. Sure, she'd had some tender moments, like the first time the baby had kicked or when she sat alone in the sitting room and played Rose music, singing softly to her… but aside from that Hermione hadn't really been inspired to feel anything at all.
Rose hadn't been planned, not in the slightest, and Hermione had cried when she'd found out. Not because she was happy either. She hadn't ever considered terminating the pregnancy, but she'd felt she wasn't ready, that she didn't really want it. Seeing Ron's glee when he found out, listening to everyone else get so ecstatic over it, only made her feel worse, made her feel guilty that she couldn't be that excited.
But that was all different now, now that Rose was real, now that she was actually there in Hermione's arms. She wanted to hug her so hard it would squeeze the life out of her, so intense was her emotional reaction to Rose's existence.
Her thoughts were interrupted then, however, as Ron popped his head back through the door.
"Draco's here. He wants to come and see you," he told her, smiling and looking excited, "Astoria's just come in with contractions."
"Are you serious?!" Hermione exclaimed, shifting her sleeping daughter on her chest so that she could sit up a little straighter.
Ron nodded, "Yep. You want me to tell him to come in?"
"Sure!"
Ron's head disappeared and a moment later, Draco came in, looking tired but excited.
"Fancy seeing you here," he said by way of greeting as he shut the door behind him.
Hermione smiled and asked quickly, "How's Astoria?"
"Aside from the fact that she's vowed to murder me at the first available opportunity, she's fine. Mum's with her now so I can't stay long, just wanted to come in and say congratulations."
There was something sort of hollow about the way he was speaking but Hermione simply chalked this up to the fact that his girlfriend had gone into labour at three am.
"Thank you."
Draco approached the bed tentatively, clearly not wanting to invade Hermione's space. His eyes were locked on the little bundle in her arms, "So this is Rose."
"It is…" she said fondly, and then, without really thinking, "Would you like to hold her?"
"Aren't you worried she'll wake up?"
Hermione shrugged, "If she does, she does. We're trying not to encourage her to be a light sleeper. She's got to learn to sleep through noise or movement."
Draco looked uncertain, but after a moment, he nodded and held out his arms. Hermione lifted Rose to him and he took her, staring down at the little squashed face with a mixture of awe and something that might have been sadness. With the baby nestled in the crook of his arm, he brought up a hand and stroked her forehead with his thumb softly.
"She's beautiful," he said quietly, his voice thick.
Hermione did not know how to respond to this so she simply remained silent. After a moment, Draco looked up at her.
"I'm scared, Hermione," he whispered, the excited tension gone from his face.
She knew what he meant, even if he hadn't said it, but she didn't know why he was choosing to speak with her about it. Draco hadn't been even remotely emotional in front of her since his mother's trial. But of course, having a baby was a pretty emotional thing to go through. She understood.
"It'll be alright," she said with a kind smile, "You'll be a great dad."
He shook his head, frowning, "It's not that… well, it is but… Astoria and I aren't even married. I don't know that we were even heading in that direction and now… now there's going to be a kid and I don't know if I even want him," Draco looked up at her again then, eyes all full of apprehension, "I'm going to be bonded to this woman for the rest of my life now."
Hermione found all this rather unsettling to say the least. It was three in the morning, she'd just given birth and here she was having a real conversation with Draco Malfoy, the coldest man alive. He was clearly distressed, but what could she say to him? It's not like he could make Astoria un-pregnant. After a moment she simply chose, "Didn't you think about this when she first told you?"
"Of course I did! But it's not like I could change it, could I?"
She felt confused and at the behest of her internal mind healer, she decided to voice that confusion, "Why are you talking to me about this? Why not Ron? He's right outside."
"Because you're the only one who really knows me," he responded quietly, not really looking at her.
Hermione couldn't help it, she snorted, "I highly doubt that. We don't even talk!"
"No… not now… but we used to. I don't talk to anyone like I used to talk to you. Not even Astoria."
"Well perhaps you should start doing that then," said Hermione somewhat harshly, resolutely pushing away all the feelings that were constricting in her chest at his words, "She is, after all, the mother of your child."
Draco nodded, looking thoroughly defeated. Hermione held out her arms for her daughter, supposing that he would be ready to leave. But he didn't give Rose back, did not even acknowledge Hermione's gesture. All he seemed capable of doing was looking down at the baby in his arms.
Her hands dropped again to her sides as Hermione watched him. He looked entirely paralysed.
After a long time, he spoke, and his words were so quiet she barely caught them. He said, "She could have been ours couldn't she?"
Hermione's blood turned to ice in her veins. She held up her hands again.
"Give me back my daughter, Draco. Now."
His eyes snapped up to hers and she realised he looked then much the same way he did when he had come to her office three years ago, begging her for help. He looked sick. But Hermione was not swayed. She was angry and she wanted him out of her room. She didn't want him to say anything else, anything he might regret.
After a moment, Draco walked back towards the bed and laid Rose in Hermione's arms. Then, without another word, he left the room.
A moment later, Ron returned with chocolate. Hermione was not going to tell him what had taken place, if only to save Draco's friendship with her partner. She didn't know why Draco had said what he'd said, only that he was clearly not in the best place right then. Of course, the moment he held his son in his arms, all of that would disappear, she knew this. He was probably just tired, scared, feeling sentimental. His words didn't deserve her brain power, especially tonight. She didn't have the brain power to give.
But nonetheless, they still stuck in her head. And she couldn't shake them off.
Seven years it had been. Seven years since he'd said anything remotely affectionate to her, anything that acknowledged their relationship as something other than a painful, inconvenient mess. How did he expect her to take it? Had she been too harsh? Maybe?
No. No, she hadn't. Not in any way. She'd just given birth to Ron's baby, Ron who was one of Draco's best friends. His girlfriend was in the building, giving birth to his son, Astoria who was one of Hermione's closest friends. And all that aside, did he really expect her to be forthcoming with those emotions after seven years?
He was just over emotional. He wasn't in his right mind. He was just scared.
This is what Hermione told herself to rob Draco's statements of meaning. If they had meaning in her head, the consequences were too dire to think of. She needed them to be meaningless. She needed to protect herself.
Just under half an hour later, Hermione and Ron were finally allowed to return home with their daughter.
Isobel, Harry and Ginny were waiting for them when they emerged from the fireplace.
"Where's mum and dad?" asked Hermione immediately before anyone could start cooing over the baby.
"Went to bed ages ago," Harry answered, looking as if his fingers were itching to hold the new addition.
"We put James down in Rose's room on the floor, is that alright?" asked Ginny, pulling Hermione's cloak off her shoulders for her.
Hermione waved her hand dismissively, "It's totally fine. Rose will sleep with us tonight anyway. Thank you guys so much for being here. Really."
"Where else would we be?" Isobel grinned.
Hermione sunk down onto the couch with a sigh, Rose wriggling a little in her sleep as she did so.
"Don't you want to go to bed, Hermione?" asked Ginny fretfully, "You're exhausted."
Hermione shook her head, "No, I want to stay up for a bit."
She didn't know where her energy was coming from but her mind was wide awake. Her body was healed entirely since she'd given birth, thanks to the healer's ministrations, it was still exhausted and she felt as if she'd never be able to move again. But she wasn't ready to sleep just yet. She wanted to savour the night her daughter was born.
Ron clapped his hands together, "Right! Where's the firewhisky then?"
"My thoughts exactly," Isobel put in, already heading in the direction of the kitchen.
Ginny though, looked scandalised and Hermione laughed.
"It's alright, Gin." said Ron fondly, "The healers told us it's ok to drink while breastfeeding as long as Hermione doesn't feed the baby for about an hour after she's had a drink. She expressed some milk at the hospital if Rose gets hungry. Chill."
"But…" his sister didn't look convinced.
"Ginny," said Hermione with a strained smile, "I've just given birth, I can do whatever the fuck I want."
Harry laughed and Ginny wisely put up her hands in supplication, grinning.
Isobel reappeared with the firewhisky a few glasses.
Hermione downed hers in one go before saying, "Ok. Someone take this child out of my arms so I can go and have a cigarette. I have one hour of freedom."
Harry immediately leapt forward to take Rose and Hermione gave her daughter up gladly. She'd been waiting nine months for this moment.
Isobel accompanied her out onto the porch, even consenting to join Hermione in one celebratory cigarette as they sat together. The night was warm and the breeze relaxing. The cigarette was, in Hermione's mind, up there in the top five things she'd ever put in her mouth.
"So this is all very strange," her friend said after a few silent moments.
"Yep. I have a baby now, how weird is that?"
Isobel giggled, "Somehow I could never have pictured it. Remember the first time you held James? You looked like you were torn between tears and all out panic."
"Yeah, I was so scared I was going to drop him… it's different when it's your own baby though. Dropping Rose just doesn't seem possible. It's like it goes against all my instincts."
Isobel shrugged, "Well it does. You mothers are weird."
"Hey, you'll be one soon!" Hermione laughed, playfully bumping her shoulder against her friend's.
"Bo's only three months in, I don't have to think about it yet!"
"You know, I never really pictured you as the man in the relationship…" said Hermione with a sideways glance at the younger woman, knowing that she'd take offence.
"Hermione!" Isobel cried.
Hermione threw up her hands, "What?! It's true! Bo's always been the tough one out of the two of you!"
Isobel grinned, "Probably why she's the one carrying the baby then."
"Makes sense," Hermione replied.
They lapsed into companionable silence and maybe it was Hermione's frayed emotions, but she found herself suddenly thinking about the very first conversation she'd shared with Isobel, up on the astronomy tower over seven years ago. It seemed so strange that they'd ever not been friends. But of course, there had been a time when they'd disliked each other pretty heartily, as foreign as that was. They were so close now that Hermione felt as if they'd been that way their whole lives. When she sat with Harry and Ron, having reminiscent conversations about their time in Hogwarts, she had to remind herself that Isobel hadn't been there. Or rather, she had, but she'd been on the other side.
Hermione looked over at her best friend, watching as she sucked on her cigarette. This was a Death Eater's daughter. This was a Slytherin. This was someone who'd detested muggleborns as much as Draco had. This was someone who'd once considered Voldemort sane and worthy of her notice.
Then she'd had a change of heart, hadn't she? Hermione had never really troubled to ask why. But maybe she felt like she didn't have to. Isobel had never really earned her trust, not in the way Draco had had to. She'd just had it.
And now look at her. No one remembered Isobel Holub, the Death Eater's daughter anymore. They just saw Isobel, the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Sure, when she'd started out at the Ministry there'd been some nervous glances and apprehensive feelings, just as there had been with Draco. But Kingsley had quashed all that pretty quickly. That and the constant presence of the golden trio around the two Slytherins pretty much assured they were left well alone.
"So do you know when you'll be going back to work?" asked Isobel into Hermione's contemplative silence.
Hermione sighed, "Dunno. Right now I want to go back tomorrow, but I know I feel differently soon… Actually… I've been thinking about that. About work."
"Oh?"
"I don't want to defend any more Death Eaters," she said in one breath.
"Ok… why's that?" asked the younger woman carefully.
"Because I think it's wrong. I only take their cases because of the money and… well… I don't need it, do I?"
"But you've just had a baby…"
"I know. But the house is paid off and I'd rather Rose grow up with a few less luxuries than a mother who works to place convicted murderers back into society," Hermione responded firmly.
Isobel nodded, taking another drag on her cigarette before saying, "How does Ron feel about this?"
Hermione grimaced slightly, "I wouldn't know, we haven't talked about it. But… honestly I don't really care. I need to do this for me. It… it's bad for my soul, what I'm doing. I have to stop. I've been thinking about it for years really, but now that I have Rose, I don't want to raise her around such loose morals. Sure, she might not have the best broom in the shop but at least she won't ever have to sit across from another kid whose father or mother was murdered by someone I represented."
Isobel nodded again, a serious look on her face, "Ok."
"What do you think?" Hermione asked because she wanted to know.
Isobel seemed to weigh up her words before she said them, "I think you're right. And I admire you for what you want to do. Do you reckon Dawn will mind though?"
Hermione shook her head, "I don't think so. I'm not her protégé anymore so it's not like her pay is conditional on the cases I take. She'll support it. But I think she'll encourage me to consider what I want to make my main focus if not Death Eaters."
"Have you thought about what that might be?"
"A little…" Hermione replied contemplatively, "I don't know. I mean, I'll always stay with Human Rights… But maybe I could go into family law, you know? Work with children who are being abused, things like that. I'd like to set up some sort of program for kids with muggle parents who aren't wholeheartedly accepting of our world. You don't hear about it often, but I'm sure there are a lot of people in that situation out there…"
"There would be. Perhaps you could target the muggle parents who won't let their children go to Hogwarts," Isobel suggested.
"People like the Dursleys," said Hermione a tad ruefully. Harry had told the tovarasi all about his upbringing over the years.
"Exactly."
"I'll send Dawn an owl about it next week. She'll want to come and meet Rose anyway. We can talk about it then."
When Hermione and Isobel finally entered the house again, after far more than one cigarette on Hermione's part, the sun was just beginning to crest the horizon. She was starting to feel her exhaustion now and walking all the way up to her and Ron's room felt like a herculean task.
Ginny and Harry collected a sleep befuddle James from Rose's room and left with Isobel, promising they'd come by again within the next few days. Hermione's parents were going to stay with them for a while to help out and she probably needed it. She fully planned to spend the majority of the following day sleeping.
When her mother's head finally hit the pillow, Rose woke up, wanting to be fed.
Hermione fell asleep to the sounds of Ron cooing to his daughter next to her as he fed Rose from the bottle.
She knew then, that there had never been any point in her life when she'd ever been that happy.
July 13th, 2007.
Hermione really had slept for almost two days. There were moments of consciousness of course, and in those moments she breast fed Rose, held Rose, talked to Rose. Her parents were there, and Ron too. But she didn't have time for them. It felt as if she'd always be exhausted, she barely remembered what it felt like to be alert anymore. Unless she was with Rose.
And only after about four days had passed did Hermione finally begin to feel like herself again, before she had even the tiniest inkling to pick up a book or have a conversation with someone who could talk back.
Her parents and Ron seemed glad to have her back. They wanted to talk to her, clearly missed communicating with her. Her mum wanted to tell her that Rose looked like she'd have Hermione's brown curls. Ron wanted to talk about his first experience bathing his daughter and how hilarious it had been. Her dad wanted to discuss Rose's obvious shows of burgeoning intelligence that had become clearly apparent in her four days of life.
And Hermione wanted to hear all of it.
There had been a time when she felt sick of listening to new mothers talk about their babies, but now she got it. She didn't want to talk about anything else. All her focus was entirely on her daughter.
And so it was that afternoon as she sat in her bedroom, Rose lying quietly next to her on the bed tugging on Hermione's hair while she read the copy of Pride and Prejudice Susan had given her on her last birthday.
Rose was a particularly quiet child when she wasn't hungry or tired or needed changing, giving Hermione the opportunity to simply lie there and read while Rose stared around at her surroundings, looking inquisitive as babies tend to do.
Hermione was grateful for the peace. She needed it really. That had been one of the things that had stressed her most when she was pregnant, the fear that Rose would need her undivided attention all day, every day. Those fears had changed in the last few days, to the point that she would have been entirely willing to give her attention, if Rose demanded it. But she didn't. And Hermione loved her for that. It made her feel like her new born daughter was not just a daughter but also a friend. It was odd, the idea of respecting a new born baby as a person, as a human being, liking them for their character. But that's how Hermione felt about Rose.
That afternoon saw the two of them alone. Ron had gone back to work, more because Hermione had begged him rather than because he wanted to. She didn't like having people fluttering about her all the time. Ron had gotten two whole days to get to know Rose while Hermione slept, and she felt like she'd missed out on having any special, quite moments with her daughter wherein she was actually fully conscious.
Her parents had agreed to spend the afternoon out as well for the sake of Hermione's peace and had gone back to the Burrow to update everyone on their granddaughter's progress.
Rose made a sound beside her and Hermione set down her book to roll onto her side and look at her daughter.
"Hello tiny associate," she said, placing her finger in Rose's grip.
Rose, rather rudely in Hermione's mind, did not respond except to stare up at her mother and grasp the offered finger.
"Are you ever going to get bored looking at me?" asked Hermione.
Rose continued to gaze raptly up at her.
"I can read to you if you like. Look," Hermione lifted the book up in front if Rose's face, "It's called Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. I think you'll like it. I'm about halfway through, so I'll catch you up on the plot if you like before I start reading. You see, it's about a very proud woman who is very intelligent and loves to read. And there's a man who falls in love with her, and he's very rich. He looks down on her because he thinks she is of inferior birth to him and she hates him for that. But he decides to be with her anyway, because he loves her, but she refuses him until he's able to learn to respect her as she is which he does by the end… I'm not up to that bit though."
Hermione rolled onto her stomach and propped the book up next to Rose's head.
She began to read, "Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said:
"'You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.'
"She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued:
"'From the very beginning – from the first moment, I may almost say – of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, were such as to form that groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.'
"'You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.'
"And with those words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house."
Hermione closed the book and looked at her daughter.
"What did you think, little Rose? Did you like it? Always makes me kind of sad, that bit. If only he'd been able to say he was sorry or explain about her sister and Mr Wickham there and then. Maybe she might have listened to him and they wouldn't have had to go through all that crap before they finally got together…"
Hermione's speech was cut off then as a voice echoed through the house.
"Hello? Hermione?"
She recognised it immediately to be Ebony.
"I'm up here in the bedroom!" she responded, not wanting to have to pick Rose up and take her down stairs to greet the younger woman.
Hermione heard the sound of footsteps moving up the stairs and a moment later, Ebony appeared in the doorway.
"Hello darling!" she said gleefully, almost skipping into the room and landing on the bed beside Hermione and Rose, "Oh my god, she's fabulous! Look at her little fingers! I wanna eat 'em!"
"Don't know if she'd like that too much but I understand the feeling," said Hermione, grinning.
"So how are you doing?" asked Ebony brightly.
Hermione shrugged, beaming, "Oh you know, all glowy and motherlike…"
"I can tell!"
"How about you though, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!" Hermione exclaimed joyfully. She didn't feel at all annoyed that her solitude had been interrupted. It was nice to see a fresh face.
"I'm good," said Ebony with a happy shrug. She gestured to Rose, "Envious that I don't have one of these but otherwise, good! I'm starting work on the Veil next week, finally, so I'm itching to be at work right now…"
"That's great! Edgar finally come to his senses did he?"
Ebony shrugged, smiling, "It would seem so… Oh, I wish I could tell you about it though, Hermione. Some of the stuff I've been reading has been so interesting."
"Don't tease me! I almost want to become an Unspeakable just so I can get my hands on the department's library," Hermione pouted mockingly.
"Coming from someone who's actually seen the library, I can totally understand that," Ebony replied seriously.
At that moment, there was a tapping on the bedroom window and both women looked up inquisitively to see a handsome eagle owl perched on the sill.
"That looks like Perseus. Draco's owl," said Ebony interestedly, cocking her head to the side.
Hermione did not respond, but her stomach turned slowly over in a rush of nerves. Why would Draco be writing to her? She stood up, leaving Ebony and Rose on the bed, and made her way over to the window. When she opened it, the owl flew in, allowing her to see that it did not carry a letter at all but rather a very large, flat, thin package.
She plucked it from the owl's proffered leg and closed the window behind it as it flew out again.
"What is it?" asked Ebony as Hermione turned the package over in her hands.
"I don't know," she said quietly, sitting back down on the bed before tearing the outer packaging off.
Out fell what seemed to be a record in a nondescript black cover.
"There's no note," she told the younger woman, pulling the record out of its sleeve and inspecting the inside.
"Do you want to put it on?"
Hermione nodded, "I suppose so. Do you mind carrying Rose?"
Ebony shook her head and stood up, "No, it's alright, I'll bring the record player up here instead."
"Thanks, Eb," Hermione replied gratefully. It was always a production relocating herself and the baby into another room.
Ebony walked out and reappeared a few minutes later with Remus's old record player in her arms. Hermione cleared a space on the dressing table and Ebony set it down. Without preamble, Hermione placed the record down on the machine and set the needle onto the outer ring.
The two women returned to the bed, listening to the scratching and empty air that preceded the first song.
When the music began to play, Hermione had to laugh.
"Is… is this Nirvana?" asked Ebony, looking shocked.
Hermione nodded, "Yep. From their Unplugged in New York album. Draco and I used to listen to it all the time…"
She could almost hear Draco singing underneath the lyrics, almost smell the scent of honey and hazelnuts floating off the Virtus Lucis. The first potion they'd ever brewed together, to make him able to conjure light in his hands.
Hermione hadn't thought about that night in so long, it had been so eclipsed by the events that followed. But now she wondered if he still did it sometimes, in the quiet of his own home. She wondered if he ever used the light she'd gifted him.
Her and Ebony sat in silence and listened. Only Hermione knew the relevance of the song and it made her frightened. After what he'd said the other night, after the way she'd responded, what did he mean by giving her the record? A record where the first song was one that she'd long considered their song?
Eventually, Nirvana wound down to a finish and gave way to a song Hermione had never heard before. But nevertheless, the first lyrics had her far more frightened than she had been moments before…
"Now I don't hardly know her,
But I think I could love her,
Crimson and clover.
And when she comes walking over,
Now I've been waiting to show her,
Crimson and clover.
Over and over."
Hermione noticed Ebony shift a little beside her and when she looked up, the younger woman wore a worried frown.
"This can't be good…" said Ebony seriously.
Hermione resolutely shook her head, "We don't know… it could just be… maybe he thought these were just songs I might like… maybe it's just a… a gift."
"It could be, I guess… but you don't really believe that do you?"
Hermione adopted a pained look and shook her head.
Ebony cleared her throat, "Did something… happen that made you think this?"
"Well, maybe, I don't –" but Hermione's sentence was cut off as the next song started and she let out a groan.
"This is Bob Marley," said Ebony, and Hermione nodded, "This is yours and Ron's song."
Hermione nodded again.
"But he doesn't mean it like that, does he?" Ebony said, more to herself than her friend.
Hermione did not respond.
"I wanna love you, and treat you right,
I wanna love you, every day and every night.
We'll be together, with the roof right over our heads,
We'll share the shelter of my single bed."
Her head fell into her hands as she groaned, "Oh, what is he doing?!"
Ebony put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "It's alright. It's like you said, we don't really know…"
"I do," said Hermione harshly, "I know. He… he said some things. The other night at the hospital. I haven't told anyone."
"And neither will I, you know that," said Ebony seriously.
Hermione nodded, knowing that it was true, "He seemed really freaked out about Astoria having the baby, really freaked out about being a father. And at first, I just chalked the stuff he said up to that, that he was feeling over emotional and scared but now…" she gestured towards the record player before turning to look at Ebony, "He was holding Rose and he said, 'She could have been ours couldn't she?' He said I was the only person who really knew him, the only person he could ever been really open with…"
"Well that's… pretty heavy," said Ebony with a sigh.
"I don't know what any of this means…"
The song changed again, this time to something entirely different from the first three. It was happy, euphoric, and those feelings bled into her being as she listened. She didn't know which genre she could put it into if not alternative rock which she'd never really thought was Draco's style.
The lyrics were almost nonsensical. She could barely make them out, but she loved the song nonetheless. It was one of those fantastic pieces of music that didn't need lyrics to explain its meaning. And it was so like Draco to pick it because of that.
Hermione turned to Ebony, a look of relief on her face. The lyrics to the song weren't meaningful in any way and it wasn't like her and Draco had any fond memories listening to it, she'd never heard it before. The motives behind the record must be innocent.
Ebony, however, did not look so comforted. Her eyes were narrowed as she listened.
"What are you thinking, Eb?" Hermione asked cautiously.
"I don't know…" Ebony replied slowly, "I think… I think it all hinges on the next song."
And so they waited until the track changed again. Hermione knew this one. Led Zeppelin, Dazed and Confused. It was, in her mind, a pretty sexual song with its heavy bass line and provocative lyrics.
Ebony nodded in understanding beside her but Hermione looked confused.
"Don't you see?" said the younger woman, "It's a story. He's telling the story of your relationship as it was all those years ago. The first song was the beginning, I mean, let me guess, it was one of the first songs you guys listened to together, right?"
Hermione nodded, still feeling slightly confused.
Ebony continued, sounding excited, like she'd worked out a hard equation, "And then it progresses into Joan Jett. Think about it: 'I don't hardly know her, but I think I could love her', it's that first thought, the first attraction. Then there's Bob Marley, a proposition and a question. He's feeling things and he wants to… I don't know… invite you to feel those things too. Then the song that followed, the euphoria, he's excited about you. And then this. Sex."
Hermione couldn't wrap her head around Ebony's logic and felt that perhaps the younger woman had been working in the Department of Mysteries for far too long.
Rose began to grumble behind them and Hermione turned around, scooping the baby up into her arms. She was hungry. As the record continued to turn, she began to breast feed her, secretly proud that Ebony did not appear bothered by it in the slightest.
Again, the track changed.
The next song was… beautiful. And even to Hermione, in whose best interest it was to believe Ebony's theory was wrong, the song had meaning to it.
"First you look so strong,
Then you fade away,
The sun will blind my eyes,
I love you anyway."
She looked to the younger woman, waiting for her interpretation and of course, Ebony did not disappoint.
"It's the afterglow, the post orgasm haze," was all she said, in a hushed voice.
Hermione nodded and stood, still clutching Rose to her chest. She made her way over to the record player but just as she stretched out her hand, Ebony leapt to her feet.
"What are you doing?!"
Hermione's voice was cold and calm, "I'm stopping this bullshit. I don't want to hear anymore."
Even though Ebony might be wrong, even though the two of them might have been reading into something that was nothing more than a peace offering, Hermione had no interest in participating any longer. She didn't need to have these thoughts in her head.
"Don't you want to know how the story ends?" asked the younger woman.
"I already know how the story ends, Ebony!" she gestured down at Rose, "This is how the story ends!"
"That's your story! Not Draco's! Just… you know him. You know he finds it hard to open up. Just let him finish. Please?"
Hermione did not understand in the slightest why Ebony was so passionate about this. But after a moment, she relented and resumed her seat on the bed. The younger woman sat down next to her and listened to the remainder of the song with a sort of defiant expression of interest on her face.
The tone of the record changed again with the next piece of music. It was soft, kind, slow, inquisitive. But also somewhat sexual.
After listening to it for a few minutes, Ebony spoke without any prompting from Hermione at all.
"I think this is him discovering you as a person. That one line, 'There is strength in the differences between us, there is comfort where we overlap'. He's discovering you. This song is about conversation, communication. He's grateful to have someone to talk to, finally, to be himself with," said Ebony.
Hermione fought the temptation to roll her eyes and instead said, "How is it you're getting so much information from this music, Ebony? How can you think you can judge his feelings like this?"
Ebony shrugged, "It's my job. And besides, I know Draco. Blaise is his best friend. Whose couch do you think he sleeps on when him and Astoria fight? I've spent enough time with him over the last few years to know his character. Draco never does anything without meaning, without reason. He's a fairly sensitive person in the end. His every word, every action is deliberate, calculated. And given what he said to you last night, I think he would assume that you would read into this record, he would assume you could understand him even when he isn't speaking with his own voice."
Hermione scoffed, "Well that really backfired didn't it? If you weren't here, I probably would have listened to the whole thing without thinking anything of it."
"Perhaps he still sees your relationship as something deeper than you do," said Ebony lowly.
Hermione could do nothing but stare at her friend. What was happening felt so surreal. But she couldn't help feeling that maybe there was a grain of truth to what the younger woman was suggesting. She resolved to listen to the music as Ebony was, to try and feel the meaning behind it.
The next song was sadder, oddly so. And it felt as if every lyric was spoken to her straight from Draco's mouth. She could hear him in it, hear him moving through it.
"She said, 'I don't know if I've ever been good enough,
I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in,
And I don't know if I've ever been really loved,
By a hand that's touched me, and I feel like something's gotta give.
And I'm a little bit angry.'
Well this isn't over,
No, not here, not while I still need you around.
You don't owe me, we might change,
Yeah we just might feel good…"
Is this how he'd seen her all those years ago? Hermione didn't need Ebony's interpretation this time, she could feel all his intention without aid. He was talking about her falling apart, those months that had led to them finding the memory, how she'd gone cold, given into the dark pull of her depression. How he'd felt desperate, like he needed her and she wasn't there.
She was too busy being sad all on her own.
It was strange, to think of those memories, to think so seriously about something that had happened such a long time ago. But nonetheless, Hermione was having a bit of an epiphany.
It wasn't just him who'd done the abandoning, though his actions were deplorable. She'd abandoned him too, for months she'd been a husk of herself. She'd left him out in the cold.
The only difference was, he'd stuck around when her mind went away. He'd stayed right there in her flat, by her side while she looked at him as if he were a stranger.
And the first time he'd shown any sign of leaving her side, of being disloyal, she'd straight up and left.
She'd left. Not him.
And just as that thought crossed her mind, the song changed again.
Beside her, Ebony, hearing the new song, whispered her interpretation, though Hermione didn't need it, "You're leaving him."
Hermione could not speak. She looked down at her chest, noticing that Rose had fallen asleep, and put her daughter down in the centre of the bed.
Her heart was doing something awful inside her diaphragm. A gasp escaped her mouth. For the first time in almost six years, she was having a panic attack.
"Maybe there's a god above,
But all I've ever learnt from love,
Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.
And it's not a cry you hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah."
Without thinking, Hermione sunk down to the floor, her body limp, totally devoid of feeling and strength.
How did one person manage to stay so stubborn over the course of seven years?!
Of course, it wasn't all her fault, he'd played his part too, but to suddenly realise that she'd been more to blame than she'd originally thought, was crippling.
When she looked up, she noticed that Ebony had tears in her eyes. Hermione did too.
The feeling of hopelessness was overwhelming.
There she sat, in the house that she'd bought with Ron, beside the bed she shared with Ron, loving Ron's child with every inch of her heart and all she could think of as she stared at Rose then was:
She could have been ours couldn't she?
"You know what's coming next, don't you?" Hermione asked Ebony in a hollow voice.
"What?" Ebony responded quietly.
"His reaction," said Hermione, "After I left. Next will be how he felt."
Ebony nodded and they both waited, listening as Jeff Buckley sang hallelujah over and over, as the guitar drifted into nothingness.
Then… then the breaking point.
"Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep,
And then leave me alone.
Don't try to wake me in the morning,
Because I will be gone.
Don't feel bad for me,
I want you to know,
Deep in the cell of my heart,
I will feel so glad to go."
"Hermione," said Ebony, "This is a song about suicide."
"I know," Hermione responded in a choked voice.
And they listened. They sat in silence and listened. And all Hermione could see was Draco, his face covered in chocolate as she taught him how to eat Tim Tams. His face staring down at her as he pulled her from that frozen lake. The whispered conversation they'd shared on the floor of Teodora's classroom after she'd forgotten to take the rusine. The fear in his eyes, the terror, once they found the memory of the eighth Horcrux. The way he'd looked the first time he'd seen her naked. How he'd fled in fear from her the very first day she'd visited Diagon Alley, when she went to see her flat. How he'd forbidden her from calling herself mudblood. Draco, crumpled on the floor of her flat, broken because she'd told him she loved him.
And after all that, she'd left him. And he'd wanted to die.
He'd felt her pain. He'd been heartbroken as much as she had. And she was finally realising this after seven whole years of resentment.
The song died into silence. Hermione almost thought it was the end of the record before the piano drifted out of the speaker.
She knew this song. She knew it because it was one of her favourites. It had been so after the war had ended. She'd listened to it then. But Draco didn't know that.
The Smashing Pumpkins, For Martha.
A sadder, more bittersweet song, she had never heard in her life.
"If you have to go, don't say goodbye.
If you have to go, don't you cry.
If you have to go, I will get by.
Someday I'll follow you and see you on the other side."
Ebony spoke then, without hesitation, "I think this one's not as obvious as the others. It might be talking about back then, about how he'd accepted that you'd left but… but I think it's about now. He's saying you've moved on, finally, that he can see you're happy and he knows how hard you had to fight to make that happen. How hurt you were. And someday he'll move on too, he'll see you on the other side of heartbreak…"
Hermione sniffed, "You think so?"
Ebony nodded.
"I can't change any of it, can I?" asked Hermione, "I wish… I wish I'd known all this all along."
"Why? What would you have done differently?"
"I… I don't know…" she responded with a sad smile, "I would have understood. That would have meant something. I always thought he didn't care. And now I know he did. Somehow it makes it hurt less to know that he did feel something. That I meant that much to him."
"Mean that much to him Hermione. If this record says anything, it's that his feelings are still… there."
"What can I do about that though?" Hermione asked, with just a hint of desperation.
Ebony shrugged, "What makes you think you have to do anything? Maybe that's why Draco never wanted you to know any of this before. Because he didn't want you to feel you had to act."
"How can I not though?"
"Accept that he's shared something with you today. And that's amazing. Let it amaze you. But you've both chosen these paths in your lives now. I mean, do you want to leave Ron?"
The thought had never even crossed her mind.
"No, I don't. Not in the slightest," Hermione replied instantly.
Ebony smiled understandingly, "Well then let the stones lay where they lay. Consider this as closure."
Hermione nodded, wiped her eyes and picked herself up off the floor just as the final song drifted out of the record player.
It was this song that sealed her mind on the matter, just as she'd been almost about to decide to do nothing. This was the song that made that impossible.
She need only hear the first line.
"These arms of mine,
They are lonely,
Lonely and feeling blue…"
Hermione rushed to the armoire and pulled out her boots, dragging them on over her bare feet. She didn't care about the rest of her appearance, didn't care about the fact that she wore nothing but a silk nightie.
"What are you doing?" asked Ebony cautiously.
"Something," she responded fiercely, "It's about time I did something. Can you look after Rose for a bit? I won't be gone for long."
"Just leave it, Hermione! You can't… what about Ron?!" Ebony seemed panicked.
"It'll be fine. Just trust me. Can you watch Rose or not?"
"Yes of course but…"
The younger woman was unable to finish her sentence. Hermione had already torn out of her bedroom door and was now racing down the stairs. She rushed down the hall, seized her cloak off the hanger by the door, threw it over her shoulders and made her way into the sitting room. She flung a handful of floo powder into the empty grate of her fireplace and stepped into the green flames calling, "Malfoy Manor."
She knew she couldn't fix it. She knew she couldn't undo seven years of pain and resentment. But she could be Draco's friend. If they couldn't be in love, they could still love each other. She could still be loyal to him. She could still be there for him.
It'd taken them seven years the first time, to get to the point of being close, and they could do it again. And she'd do it if it killed her.
She'd be his friend.
Hermione burst from the fireplace in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor in a puff of ash and smoke.
Narcissa was sitting by the window in the sun, curled around a book. She looked up in alarm as Hermione appeared.
"Hermione! Is everything alright?! Is Rose…?"
"Yes. She's fine. It's ok," said Hermione breathlessly, "Where's Draco? I need to speak to him."
"You seem to have forgotten your clothes my dear," Narcissa responded with a shocked smile.
Hermione looked down at herself, clad in nothing but boots, a nightie and her cloak, "I didn't forget them. I just didn't need them."
Narcissa seemed on the brink of laughter.
"Alright, if you say so. Draco is in the library. Astoria has gone to visit her parents," Narcissa said, but Hermione didn't understand why she felt the need to add Astoria's whereabouts.
"Thanks!" she responded before tearing out of the room. She had no idea where the library was. But she assumed it was somewhere in this part of the house. With this in mind, she began throwing open every door she passed in an effort to find him until, on her fifth try, she did.
He was sitting at a large wooden desk in a room full to the ceiling with books, bent over a piece of parchment, quill in hand. At her sudden arrival, he looked up.
His expression immediately morphed into one of confusion and fear.
Hermione found she had no idea what to say now that she was there, facing him. What must he think of her? What if the record didn't mean anything? What if it was just a gift?
Draco stood slowly and moved around the desk, looking more fearful and wary the longer she remained silent.
All she could think of was, how could he stand wearing that black suit in this heat?
After that, it seemed her body took all control from her mind.
She ran forward, launching herself into his arms, throwing her own around his shoulders.
His body was tense under hers but she didn't care. Just as he had given her the record unconditionally, she gave him this.
"Thank you," she said through the sudden tears in her eyes, "I needed that record, Draco. I've needed it for seven years."
He didn't respond, but slowly his arms lifted and wrapped around her.
It was one of the greatest pains she'd ever felt, his body, his scent all over her, taking up every sense. But the pain wasn't what this was about. It was about the healing.
"We might never have Flourish and Blotts again, or the Dividing Line, or Tim Tams. But I'll be your friend, Draco. I want to be your friend. We owe each other that. We owe it to what we had."
She felt him nod against her collar bone.
A/N Not much to say in this author's note guys. But I do have some good news on a more personal front! My journey to being an actual published author has begun! I'm having an article (about fanfiction funnily enough) published in a magazine! Yay! In my never ending search to occupy myself while I procrastinate the other week, I went and did some research on how to get a literary agent and found out some rather daunting information. A piece of which was that they tend to pay more attention to prospective clients if they've been published. Somehow I don't think fanfiction counts. So yeah! It's all happening!
Anyhow, hope you all liked the chapter :D
Oh! And for anyone who was interested in the songs on Draco's story record, here they are:
1. "Dumb" (Live) by Nirvana
2. "Crimson and Clover" by Joan Jett
3. "Is This Love" by Bob Marley
4. "LSF" by Kasabian
5. "Dazed and Confused" by Led Zeppelin
6. "Vapour Trail" by Ride
7. "Overlap" by Ani Difranco
8. "Push" by Matchbox 20
9. "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley
10. "Asleep" by the Smiths
11. "For Martha" by the Smashing Pumpkins
12. "These Arms of Mine" by Otis Redding
xx
Desdemona