Chapter Two
Hermione was awoken at dawn by the cries of her daughter Rose. She poked her husband, who was spread out across two thirds of the mattress, in the ribs, but he did not move in the slightest. The cries heightened in intensity.
"Ron, please, I stayed up with her until 2 a.m., I did not even get three hours of regular sleep."
Ron was muttering nonsensical words in his slumber. Apart from her daughter waking her up at any given time, Ronald often kept her awake with the loud sounds he made while he slept. His snoring could compete with the Hogwarts Express and he often erupted in screams of terror when he relived the Final battle against the Dark forces during his nightmares.
It had been eight years now, she thought by now he would have begun sleeping well again. She, of course, still had many awful dreams too, but she could not even have them if she was being bothered in her sleep all the time.
She poked her husband once again, this time in the arm.
He moved slightly on his side and said, with a sleep-laden, roughened voice. "Oh come on Hermione, you're her mother, and I have to work. Let me sleep"
The young mother could not believe he was waving her off like that. She had given up her job to take care of their infant; she had not slept a full night in the last year. First because of the morning sickness and the pains, and then to feed Rose, change her nappies, talk her to sleep, sing her lullabies and wake up at night to comfort her. And her closed-minded, tradition-obsessed husband could still not take up any of the responsibilities in their house, god forbid any household chores. Not even one of the house chores. The only things he felt entitled to do was decide what channel they were going to watch in the evenings, invite colleagues from work without warning her and telling her what food she would prepare for him.
She really had enough of it, but once again she let it be and stood up wearily to take care of her crying baby. When she took the new-born in her arms, she instantly frowned as Rose felt unusually hot. She rested the back of her left hand against her forehead to try to feel her temperature like John Granger always did to her when she was a child. It was burning. She took out her wand from her nightgown pocket and tapped the forehead of her baby girl to take her exact temperature and gasped when she saw it was 39˚C. This was a high fever. She put Rose back in her crib and practically ran towards the master bedroom of their house.
"Ron! We need to go to St Mungo's immediately! Rose is burning; she's got a high fever. Come on, wake up!"
She was worried senseless and shaking her husband to consciousness.
"Hey, stop! What are you doing for Merlin's bloody goatee? I. Am. Sleeping!" he rudely yelled at her.
"Rose is sick, you insensitive teaspoon! We need to take her to the hospital!"
"Oh." He finally quit his attitude. "I'll go see what's wrong with her. Wait here."
Ron went into his daughter's bedroom and delicately took her in his strong muscled and freckled arms.
"Don't worry little one. Mummy and Daddy are taking good care of you."
He carefully dressed her in a green and yellow baby outfit. He kissed her burning forehead before going back to his bedroom and passing her to his wife.
"Right, here you go. Now all you have to do is take her to the hospital. I'm going to take a shower before I go to work."
"Wait, what?"
He kissed her.
"Yeah, hun. You didn't really think I was going to miss an important day at work because of a little fever, right? If it's really an illness than I'll take the day off but I have a massive quantity of meetings today in our wing and I can't miss any of them."
"But it's our daughter. She should be more important to you than bloody meetings at work. She surely is for me; I quit work to raise her properly."
"Of course she is, and you are too. But, really work must come first sometimes, you know that. If you can wait another five minutes I'll get dressed and Apparate you both to Mungo's."
"No, thanks" Hermione answered "I'm going by myself as you plan on leaving us alone anyway. Good day, Ron."
Ron smiled stupidly and went to kiss her but she drew back and Apparated to the hospital just in her tank top and the jogging bottoms she used to sleep in.
Hermione was sitting in the waiting room of the maternity ward of St Mungo's. She sighed when she understood there were still five more urgent patients that waited to be seen before her. After a few minutes, when she had seen the looks the other witches and wizards gave her, she decided to transfigure her clothes into more appropriate clothing. Her daughter had finally fallen asleep from too much crying. None of what Hermione had done whilst waiting could make the little girl feel better. It had been two and a half hours already and she was beginning to get frustrated by the non-action.
She passed time wondering if maybe she could study for another wizard certificate when Rose would go to nursery. She'd move from the "Improper use of magic" squad to work at the wizard hospital. They surely needed her more here, she thought ironically.
She suddenly looked down in the direction of a corridor lower at her right. There, between two of the nurses' offices, stood a beautiful silver blonde haired witch who could appear to be in her early fifties. She wore green day robes with no flourishes of any kind. She had taken her hat off and held it in her delicate aristocratic hand, a hand that had not done one single piece of housework in its life. Something obvious to the eye of the vigilant observer.
The gorgeous woman was going through the pages of some magazines with her free hand, not choosing any copy to read but just looking at the main pages presenting the subjects. A few of the issues that seemed to captivate the patients of this ward were: "Witches' family life", "A magic way to wed", "My marvellous bubbling cauldron" and "Thirty ways to get a wizard's attention". Only one issue seemed to present a heavier subject: "The Battle of Hogwarts, the eighth anniversary of the event that changed us forever, upcoming next week".
At that, Narcissa Malfoy stopped reading through and turned her back to the shelf. She did not like to think too much about those memories. When she glanced through the waiting room at her left, she found hazel eyes resting on her, and she saw a young witch giving her a brilliant smile. Just what one would need to brighten a day, she thought. She smiled back to the formerly Hermione Granger, now Hermione Weasley, and waited until the girl waved at her and motioned her to sit by her. She did not want to invade anyone's privacy.
"Mrs Malfoy, it's lovely to see you again. I would have preferred it to be under better circumstances but I'm delighted anyway."
"I'm delighted too Mrs Weasley, but what circumstances bring you here if it's not too indiscreet? I hope everything is fine with young Rose over here."
When the tiny baby in question heard her name being spoken by an unfamiliar voice, she woke up again. Hermione was about to answer Narcissa's question when she saw her little girl moving. She thought she would start crying but she made a sort a babyish giggle instead, bubbles forming at her little mouth and she attempted to grab at Narcissa with her little knuckle. Narcissa smiled, presenting a long elegant finger to the baby girl, who took it immediately and began waving it around. Narcissa laughed and said:
"Your daughter is such a dear. She will be tremendously clever, one day. I can see it."
Hermione levelled her gaze to meet big, pale blue eyes looking directly at her. She was about to answer something intelligent when words mingled in her mind. She blushed instead and simply said :
"Thank you Mrs Malfoy. I appreciate it."
"You're most welcome, and please call me Narcissa if it's not too much trouble" She smiled again and Rose let go of her hand, wiggling under her covers.
"Oh, you may call me Hermione then." She did not know why but she felt relieved they were forming a first name basis. It was ok to be called Mrs Weasley by most people, now that she was married. Even though this traditional custom annoyed her somewhat because it was a little sexist. But she always felt weird not being called Hermione or Miss Granger by the people she already knew before the war. It made her feel like she was someone different from then, but she did not want to be. She wanted to stay exactly who she always had been, through all circumstances. That's what life with Ron had done more significantly than the war itself : change her. She was not sure yet if it was for the better.
Her companion's gentle voice snapped her from her thoughts.
"You did not tell me as to why you were here, Hermione"
"Yes you're right, Narcissa, I did not tell you. I' m actually here for little Rose here. She woke up this morning with intense fever and I was worried she would have caught one of the viruses going around but it seems in the last half-hour she has become calmer. I don't know if she has fever still, but I'm still going to wait to see what the Healer says."
"You take very good care of her, I notice. And no House elves? You are all by yourself?"
"Yes I really prefer it so, even though I do miss work, I feel great when I am with her."
"Yes I can see why, she definitely seems like a captivating child."
"And you Narcissa, are you still here for Mrs Malfoy?"
Narcissa understood she was talking about Astoria.
"Yes. The child is fine but there have been some complications for my daughter-in-law. The Healers have said she has a body too weak to give birth. It will probably be her last one, because they said she will not overcome the stress of a second child. I believe she will be alright though; she just needs a lot of rest and time away from Draco and the baby."
"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. I can certainly understand how hard it must be for her not to be able to take care of her child immediately. I'm glad to hear your grandchild is in good shape though. Is it a boy or girl? And the name?"
"His name is Scorpius. He is a very handsome little boy but he doesn't look a thing like his mother or father, or even his grandparents I must say. He has very dark hair, like most of the Blacks, exactly like my sist-"
Narcissa was about to say he looked just like her sister Bellatrix but she refrained from voicing her words at the last moment. It would not bode well for her relations with the hazel-eyed brunette if she mentioned her elder sister, she thought. She had caused so much hurt around her that her name should probably be banned from public places.
Hermione understood Narcissa's unease and put a hand on the older woman's folded ones.
"If he looks like her, than I agree he must be beautiful. Even though he would have been by looking like any of the Blacks." Hermione said and smiled to comfort her new-found acquaintance.
"You are too kind, Hermione. I will leave you to your business. I believe the Healers just called for you. But I would certainly like us to bump into each other again when your daughter is feeling better."
Hermione did not know what pushed her to say such a thing but she felt an irresistible pull towards the company of this woman who had gone through so much, just like her.
"Narcissa, how about we bump into each other Friday night at the Hog's Head then? Say around ten? I've heard it has been newly rearranged and that it looks far better now than before"
Narcissa, looking surprised, raised a finely shaped eyebrow. She then smiled and said: "It would be a delight Mrs Weasley, I will meet you there at ten, then."
She headed off back to where her daughter-in-law was resting, briefly giving a delicate handshake to Hermione before going.
Hermione looked after her while she walked back down the corridor. She sighed and thought she would be in much trouble with Harry and Ron if they learned she was actively befriending a former Death Eater's wife.
When Hermione Jean Granger Weasley chose the formerly disreputable pub owned by Aberforth Dumbledore, brother of the late Albus Dumbledore, for her meeting with the matriarch of the Malfoy household, she thought she had opted for a discreet spot. That was until she saw the extensive number of people who were now appreciating a drink in the tavern, though, she could not see how this place held any resemblance with what she remembered. The former filthy walls and floors had been completely tidied and the mahogany wood restored. The rough wooden tables had been replaced by more modern ones, with glassy finish and distinguished flourishes. Instead of stubs of candles melting directly on the tables, stunning ancient candelabras had been put up on the walls, between new paintings made by Aberforth, who had massively improved his talent in the art. He still did not allow anyone to buy them though.
She leant on the counter to salute him and she saw that, when he turned around, he looked nothing like the grumpy old man she had once known. There was a light in him that she did not imagine he possessed. His whole face had lit up from the inside. And his eyes held a renewed twinkle; very similar to the one his elder brother showed when he was excited or happy about something.
Aberforth wore better clothes than she had ever seen him in. Long and detailed wizard robes, in a color more sober than his brother would have chosen though: a darkish green. He seemed to really have done well in business since the Second Wizarding War. His place was now famous, and she thought that was well deserved. He had been of such great help that she did not think they would have won without his input.
After having paid their mutual respects to each other, and on her request, he accompanied her to a table in a freer corner of the room, that few people frequented. It was not long after having been served her first 'on the house' Butterbeer that she was joined by the peroxide blonde haired witch which she was expecting, she found, with a strange eagerness.
A few sneers and some impudent howls had echoed around as Narcissa made her way towards her table, but the older witch stayed unperturbed by them and did not once glance back. She had her blue gaze focused on the chestnut brunette girl in the far corner of the pub, and on her only.
Hermione thought it was most distasteful, wizards behaving like this towards her (could she already say?) friend, and that it was also very unrewarding for a witch who had, almost as much as herself, saved all their asses.
"Arses" The Younger witch muttered when Narcissa Malfoy took place in front of her, sending dark looks towards the tables in their vicinity.
The blonde slightly blinked, surprised at Hermione's use of language. She recovered quickly and smiled:
"Thank you for defending me, but it is of no use. Whilst I don't listen to them anyway, I do think their comments are deserved nonetheless."
"How can you think such a thing? Their attitude is totally uncalled for. You are, like me, a war hero. It has been known publicly in the newspapers that the ministry rewarded you with Second class Order of Merlin."
"People still resent my family because Lucius once again escaped prison with minor evidence and corroborations. Not enough people could provide proof against him because he was such a coward during the battle. He was not seen by the living members of the Order or Hogwarts and not a Death Eater still alive would testify against him."
"It still isn't your burden to carry. It's your husband who should pay for the deeds he has committed."
"I agree. He should be rotting in Azkaban right now, like my sister. But it really makes little sense to the outsider's eye that he and I are of different views."
"So you don't support him then?" Hermione's voice had sounded noticeably hopeful. Her gaze was fixed on the face of the witch in front of her.
"No, not in the least. It has been more years than I can count since I stopped supporting anything my husband did. I was never a partisan of any of the engagements of the people of my entourage towards the Dark Lor-" She stopped halfway through the name because she was earning herself stares from the neighbours. She lowered her voice, leaning more towards Hermione, their foreheads inches from each other's.
"Hum, I mean Voldermort. I watched my sister and the husband whom I thought I loved join this manic man, for lack of a better word, and I could never do anything against that. I was so weak and without means to alter any mistake my fellow family members made. So I always gave in to their beliefs, because it was easy and painless, because I did not want to lose them. It was already hard for me losing a sister because she was different; I did not want to be the outcast myself. I would have been lost without the ones that had been my anchors almost since my birth. As bad as they are, that's what they were to me"
"Then why did you not fully join their cause? Why such a change in allegiance in the end?"
"There were many reasons for what I did. Believe me I don't regret it. There was my fear of seeing the world I knew disappear, destroyed. I had a certainty: Voldemort being in power would betray every value, everything I ever believed in my whole life. The world as we knew it would have been damaged forever, smashed like a fly, with no way of escaping. It would have been the death of love, joy, innocence: everything that makes the human race beautiful."
Hermione was holding to every word Narcissa said because it directly reflected the feelings she held during her school years and the reasons which had kept her fighting all through everything, every loss, every pain.
"Another reason was my love for my son. The day I discovered he was to become a follower like my husband was one of the worst days in my life. I felt betrayed in every sense, and I felt any little ounce of good I had tried to put in my son's head would disappear along with his soul. I did not want to lose another person I loved to this revolting cause. I knew I was the only one who could save him from himself and from them and when I had the occasion to act I did not let the moment pass. Maybe it's one of the few things I ever achieved in my life. All the rest has been so… senseless. Sometimes I regret to be alive."
Narcissa's words were bitter and she seemed profoundly harmed. Her emotional wounds were deep and un-healing. Hermione was amazed that the woman still managed to keep herself together when she talked about this. If it would be her she would be weeping senseless. She desperately wanted to hug the woman in front of her, but she knew it would seem awkward and foolish. Nonetheless she wished with every bit of her being that she could.
"Then, also, there was you."
Narcissa's words did not make sense in Hermione's head. What did she mean by "there was you".
"What do you mean Narcissa?"
"I mean…You will probably find that strange but…the next person I was thinking about when I decided to betray my side was you."
Hermione was dumb-founded.
"Me? But why?"
"Well you know. That night… at the Manor"
At this Hermione lowered her eyes. It was one of her worst memories. She could not help her voice coming out bitter when she talked, even if it was to reassure the other woman.
"What about it? You know I forgave you, right? You could not have done anything without losing your life and probably your son's life too"
"But how could I ever forgive myself, Hermione? I was there, I could have done something. It would have been the right moment then to act, to save all of you, to save my son and myself. I had already lost everything anyway. It was not as if I would miss my husband and sister, or my house infested with evil. I never forgot about that night. It was the first time I was a primary witness of the horrors my sister and her fellow Death Eaters performed and I should have stopped it, I should have."
Narcissa almost broke down in tears but she swallowed at the last moment. She had never allowed herself to show emotions in public, this habit came from childhood, was buried too deep inside herself and she could not change it. Even if she was willing to share anything she felt with the young witch, with whom she felt she could be herself, a rare thing.
"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me Narcissa." Hermione put a slender finger under the defeated woman's chin and made her look up into her hazel eyes. "I know what kind of person you are. And you need to stop thinking you are evil like them, because you're not. You're far from it. You're above them. And I trust you, alright? I know you are telling the truth"
Narcissa sighed to hide her trembles and said :
"Thank you so much, Hermione, it means the world to me."
She allowed herself a feeble smile and took the brunette's hand in hers, pressing it gently and warming it.
"Let's go now." Hermione said "I think we had enough emotions for the night."
Narcissa nodded in response and they both made their way to the exit, after Narcissa insisted to pay for their drinks.
Before they Apparated their different ways, they looked at each other for a long minute, not speaking. Emotions swirled around them. Hermione felt the need to comfort the older woman and Narcissa seemed vulnerable enough to allow her entry. She did not protest when Hermione hugged her. She was not used to such close physical contacts between nearly strangers but she revelled in just feeling, her heartbeat increasing as the seconds ticked by. She knew Hermione was just being friendly and open hearted but she could not help the rollercoaster her heart played at in her chest. She breathed in Hermione's lush scent one last time before they separated, with promises of keeping in touch. They both felt like they still had issues to talk about and maybe they were also hoping somewhere that they would become friends. But for now it was time to go back to their respective lives, so different from one another but still somehow so alike, with their children and husbands, where they were supposed to belong.
Hermione slowly crept into her flat, taking her shoes off and holding it in her hands so as not to wake Ronald or Rose. It was 1 a.m. and they would normally be sleeping at this time of night.
"How was it with Ginny?"
She almost tripped in the chair in front of her when she heard Ron's voice in the darkness of the kitchen.
"Ron! Dear Lord! You scared me!"
Hermione was holding her chest, her heart skipping several beats.
"I merely wanted to know how it was with my sister." He said, arms crossed, moving closer towards her.
"It was fine. She always has her pains now but we enjoyed our little get together."
"Great. Then I assume I was hallucinating when my sister called me two hours ago to ask how you were?"
"I don't know Ron, can we talk about it tomorrow? I'm quite tired."
"When are you ever going to stop LYING to me?"
"Ron, lower your voice, we don't want to wake Rose. It's complicated. I will have to explain to you later, sorry."
"I think I have the right to know if you have a lover, Hermione Weasley. I want to know immediately who he is so I can knock his stupid head off."
"Stop it Ron! I am not seeing anyone and you have no right to shout at me like that. I said I will tell you in the morning! Now we both need sleep"
"Darn it! I'm not sleeping here if you won't tell me. Bye! My dear cheating wife."
"That's fine you immature prat. Have a good night." She jabbed him in the chest with her finger.
Ronald was stunned. He would have thought Hermione would have begged him to stay and explain everything but she did not seem to want to take care of his case more than that.
"I can't believe it, woman" With those words he fled the kitchen and their house
Hermione did not even wait till he left to storm into their bedroom and lock herself in with Rose, who was peacefully sleeping in her crib, unaware of her parents' fight. She could not stand Ron doubting her faithfulness. Yes she had lied about her comings and goings but she certainly did not cheat on him. She fell asleep almost instantly when her head hit the stuffed pillow. Falling in dreams of past, tormented times.