Chapter Three
Family
Hermione lived in a Wizard community so all of the Muggle's memories were erased. Too bad hers couldn't be. She numbly answered questions, and heard enough to know that the fire was an accident, a wayward spell casted over the side of the garden fence.
There was one question that stood out from all the rest. "Do you have a place you can stay?"
She had plenty of places. Ginny's, Luna's, the Weasley's, even Neville's if she wished. So many would be happy to take her in, but she couldn't be a burden. No, that wasn't it. It was because she hadn't faced them in five years. She only faced Ginny as long as she did because the youngest of the Weasley clan was insistent.
There was only one place she could go. Only one place she wanted to be beyond reason. She couldn't help to have felt relieved at his lack of hatred towards her. It was the closest to being happy that she had felt in a long time despite all the tension. The fighting was inevitable, but he wasn't angry like he rightfully should've been.
That was how she found herself in front of B12 knocking and waiting.
Draco opened the door. He seemed shocked for a second before becoming apprehensive. "Hermione, what're you doing here?"
"My house... It's gone. Caught fire." Behind him past the lounge to the kitchen was the little girl - Joanne sitting at the table swinging her feet, a meal in front of her. Hermione instantly felt guilty. He moved on, like the rest of them. How could she have not taken that into consideration? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. It was a mistake."
"Wait," he said before she could leave. "There's plenty of food here. Stay."
She surveyed from Joanne to him, the resemblance uncanny. "I can't disrupt your life. This was wrong of me "
"It would be wrong of me to set a bad example for my daughter." He smiled wryly. "Stay with us as long as you need.'
"Are you sure?"
"Positive, but..." He glimpsed over at Joanne, and shut the door. "There's two rules. Don't mention magic, and don't do it."
She raised a brow speculatively. "Why?"
"Because Joanne doesn't know about your world."
"Ours," she corrected confused by the odd things he was telling her.
"Come eat," he urged ignoring her statement.
Hermione joined him into the kitchen sitting at the far end. Draco placed a bowl, a jug of milk, and a cereal box in front of her before sitting himself across from Joanne.
"Ms. Granger here will be staying with us, okay?"
She nodded slowly swallowing her food properly. "I can share my room, daddy."
"That is very nice of you, but Ms. Granger will be much more comfortable in mine. I'll sleep on the sofa."
"I don't want to put anyone out," Hermione told him quietly.
"Nonsense."
"But daddy, the sofa hurts your back, remember?"
An awkward silence fell on them. Hermione and him couldn't forget something like that, but she wondered how much Joanne knew. If she didn't know of their world she couldn't know the true story of what caused the injury.
Hermione dumped some cereal in her bowl though she wasn't hungry. What she wanted was a long shower. "I'll sleep on the sofa."
Draco didn't argue.
"Why is she staying," Joanne asked inquisitively observing Hermione with kind interest. It wasn't rude, it was curiosity. It was hard not to smile back at her.
"Her house is in need of repairs."
"Oh." She pushed her empty plate away. "May I watch the television now?"
"All right, go on," he said, but the moment he gave his permission she was halfway to the lounge. A few seconds later and boings and kaplunks could be heard. Cartoons.
"You have a television?" Hermione was surprised, it was evident in her tone. "I didn't think you knew what one was."
"Funny," he remarked sarcastically. "Right comedian you are." He glanced at his watch something she noticed that had only two hands. A Muggle one. "I have to go. A meeting. I'll have Theo over here to watch Joanne."
"I can watch her," she volunteered. It was the least she could do for his generosity, especially after everything that had happened between them, and because she like Joanne. She barely knew her but the child was entrancing. Maybe it was because it'd been so long since she had been with someone so innocent.
He looked hesitant. "Fine, but Theo is across the hall if you need him." He turned to the door then stopped facing her. "You've taken care of children before, haven't you?"
"My cousins."
"Right. Sorry." He still looked unsure, torn between calling off his meeting and staying.
"Draco..." She didn't want to talk about last night, but he had to know. He had to know that he could trust her. Maybe that was too much to ask. After what she did she wasn't exactly trust worthy. "What you saw... I only drink once a year. I know you know why I was drinking. I don't touch alcohol otherwise."
He pointed a long pale finger at a note pinned to the fridge by a plain black magnet. "My number is there. Ring for emergencies."
"Got it."
"I'm not sure how long I'll be. Her bedtime is at seven."
"Okay."
"No snacks. Only water."
"All right."
"An -"
"Draco," she scolded. "Go to your meting. I promise you she's in good hands."
Draco jerked his head in a nod. "I know... You're still Hermione. Only Hermione would yell at someone after helping her."
It was good that he went to the lounge then. She didn't know what to say to that, nothing that wasn't sarcastic. He kissed his daughter's head, promising to return as soon as he could, and he locked the door behind him. Hermione knew that he was visiting Theo asking him to keep watch on them, but at the same time not to make himself noticed.
Hermione cleaned the table setting the dishes in the sink, the cereal box in the cabinet. She realized that she hadn't ate, but it was for the best, she really wasn't hungry. She contemplated washing the dishes or joining Joanne. She chose the latter. If Hermione was going to stay there she should get to know the girl a bit better.
She sat on the sofa observing the child in front of her on her knees in front of the screen. She had Draco's hair, his complexion, but her features were softer, and her eyes had a blue hue to the silver. They were someone else's. Her mother's.
As if sensing her stare Joanne turned to gaze wistfully at her. "Are you dating daddy?"
Hermione laughed sadly. "No. We're just friends."
"He's never had a girlfriend before."
"Really?" She was pleased and she inwardly cursed herself for that.
"Uh-huh. Ms. Granger are you sure you're not dating him?"
"No, and it's Hermione."
"Hermy."
"No, Her-my-oh-nee."
Joanne furrowed her brows trying again and again to pronounce her name unsuccessfully.
Hermione shook her head. "Call me Mione."
"Miney."
"Close enough... I have a question for you."
"Mm-hm?"
"Why aren't you in school?"
She shrugged. "Daddy home schooled me. He's finally enrolled me into the best school!"
There was a mystery there that was begging to be uncovered, but she stopped herself before she wondered further. She wasn't there to discover Draco's strange new life. She was there until her house was rebuilt.
Glancing at her watch she motioned for her to follow. "It's almost your bedtime. How about I tell you a story about your dad?"
Joanne clicked off the television jumping up eagerly. "Please! He won't ever talk about himself."
There's something new, Hermione thought. "Come on then, show me your room."
She led the way stopping at a door across from Draco's. Inside were bright pink walls, white lace curtains, a bed, dresser, and a rocking chair all done in white.
While Joanne dressed in a frilly nightgown Hermione inspected the books lined on the shelves on the walls. They were all Muggle, every single one of them.
"I'm ready," Joanne announced under the covers.
"All right then," she said kneeling on the floor next to her. "I've known your dad for ages. We went to school together you see. He was..." She smiled. "A mischievous boy. The first time we met was on a train. I was helping a friend look for his toad -"
"A toad," she giggled.
"Yes, a hopping, green toad. I walked into a compartment to ask your father whether he'd seen it. He called me... A name, and slammed the door in my face."
Joanne gasped dramatically. "Daddy did that?"
"The one and only." Hermione wondered if it was appropriate to be telling the girl such stories, no matter how true they were, but she went on. She told four stories of Draco's less serious bullying until his daughter fell asleep.
Hermione swept the fair trendles of the girls hair from her face. How could a mother not want her? How cold could someone be? Joanne was precious. Less than a day she had already captured Hermione's heart. It didn't stop other less-adorable thoughts however.
Did Draco love the mother? How could he have gotten her over so quickly if he had?
There was only one good thing that came out of all the catalystic tragedies. Joanne. Hermione couldn't find the will to resent the child, or to even resent the father. She wished she could be mad at Draco, but it was too hard. It was her fault. All of it was.
"Hermione?"
She squinted towards the door - the whispering coming from the brightness of the hallway. She stood going outside shutting the door softly. She sighed at Draco's worried expression. "She's been asleep for an hour."
"Why did you stay in there?"
She shrugged touching the knob of the door. "She was so sweet. You know she smiles when she sleeps."
"I know," he said his voice remaining as soft as silk. He rested a finger beneath her chin making her to look to him. "Thanks for seeing to her."
"The least I could do."
"I owe you an explanation."
"You owe me nothing, Draco. Once I find a place of my own, I'll be out of your hair."
His forehead creased. "Please don't. Be... You again. Where's your meddlesome quirk? The old Hermione would have already knew why I was living as a Muggle with a daughter."
She took his hand kissing his palm. All she said was, "your daughter is beautiful."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You have your family."
He shut his eyes lacing their fingers. "We could be your family, Hermione."
She snatched her hand back, going rigid. So he was still hopeful? He still wanted her? Why did that thought send a warm feeling through her, but as quick as it came it turned to fire, burning her. "My family's dead," she snapped as she walked to the lounge, but she didn't miss what he said next.
"You do blame me."
Hermione didn't want to have that conversation. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that she didn't blame him. She blamed herself. She always had.
Every other night found Hermione in Draco's house reclining on his sofa with one of his books propped against her knee. The only reason she still owned her house was because no one knew about her relationship. She loved her friends dearly and telling them that she was dating their old enemy would quite possibly hurt them. She didn't want that. She would give Harry and Ron time to adjust to him being in their department then she would break the news. As of currently Ron was still sulking when the boss praised Draco, and Harry silently fumed. They needed time.
Besides Hermione wouldn't give up her three story house. She bought it specifically for its history. A longest, bloodiest goblin rebellion had taken place on the propriety. It was her pride and joy. She planned one day to make it into a museum. It would be a nice hobby. In the mean time she was content with her second home especially since Draco did her a favor and brought all of her things over. He was training her to say "ours" when she was referring to his.
She checked her watch over the book. It was getting late, but she shouldn't be worried he'd come home late loads of times. But why was she getting horribly tense waiting for him as though something had happened.
Then the door opened. Her heart sunk when she saw him. His blond hair was streaked with dirt and his face with sweat. He was shaking. She went to him ready to ask what happened but when he lifted his devastated, fearful eyes to hers she knew. She just knew.
Harry and Ron were dead.
Hermione fell to the floor her body wracking with sobs. If her heart stopped she wouldn't have noticed because it wasn't only hear heart that was in pain. It was everything. All of her insides were being ripped out. She screamed clawing at the floor. She barely heard Draco's breaking voice. He hadn't moved from the door.
"There was too many of them. We couldn't have anticipated. They fought well. Very well." He made an odd strangling sound. "They tried to cover me. It's my fault, Hermione."
She didn't argue, her throat was closed up.
The next morning she was numb and turned on autopilot. Her best friends who had defied death countless of times were dead. That night lying in Draco's bed when her crying ceased she realized she was dead as well. Without them... What would she do? How long could she pretend to live?
A/N: There has been computer malfunctions while editing, not to mention I'm fighting off symptoms of the flu. I always try to remedy mistakes that I've made (I make no promises), and that still stands. I will try to correct any.
Their feelings may not make sense, specifically Draco's. There will be explainations later, but to make it clear Draco never gave up on her. Not entirely.