Chapter Four
Flying
The best time of day was daybreak itself. It was fresh the way the sun broke through the clouds. Hermione woke up early every morning just to witness it. It was her marker. She had survived another day. The first of each month was especially important. She survived a whole month's worths of days. Some where harder than others, but she reminded herself to keep breathing. Keep breathing...
Since she was up earlier than everyone else she cooked breakfast. Eggs, toast, and muffins. She threw a black sheet over the table in replacement of a proper table cloth, and set the dishes and silverware out with napkins. It was completely ready when Draco and Joanne came in.
"Wow," Joanne breathed excitedly climbing into one of the chairs.
Draco looked at her strangely, as though he didn't recognize her.
"You should invest in something more than black sheets," she simply said.
He chuckled taking a seat. "If I haven't said it before, welcome back Hermione."
She frowned. He said it like he was welcoming her home. She wasn't "back." If she was why was she reminding herself to breathe? She would let him hold onto the hope however. If it made him feel better then that would brighten her day. Someone should feel better.
"Daddy," Joanne began conversationally. "Why were you so mean in school?"
Draco who had been drinking from his glass of juice spat it out suddenly.
"Eew."
"Sorry," he apologized dabbing her face dry with his napkin. He glowered at Hermione.
She covered her mouth to hide her smile. Her lips nearly cracked. She hadn't smiled properly in eight years. It felt odd. Then something even stronger was bubbling in her gut. What followed surprised her and Draco. She laughed. She laughed hard. She couldn't stop.
Draco laughed too, and she held a stitch in her side. It physically hurt, but at the same time it felt good. It was different than tears. Tears left streaks and hallow eyes. Laughter split you in joy.
Joanne stared from her father to Hermione not understanding what was so funny. Neither did they, but they kept on.
When they calmed themselves Draco kissed Joanne. "I have to go to work. I'll be home at eight. Can you handle things here," he asked Hermione.
"We'll be great. Do you mind if I take her to the park? It's fairly warm outside." Hermione had the idea last night. It'd been ages since she'd been to the park, but she remembered enjoying herself there. While the weather was warm, exceptionally warm in January she wanted to take advantage of it. She hadn't felt so good in too long.
"Sure, have fun. There's an extra key in that drawer there."
Once he left Joanne beamed up at her. "We're going to the park?"
"Yep, just eat up and we'll be on our way." Hermione grabbed the key placing it securely in her pocket, and slipped into the lounge kneeling beside the sofa. Reaching a hand under it her fingertips met slim Vine wood. Her wand. Glimpsing over her shoulder to make certain that Joanne wasn't watching she pocketed it covering it with Draco's overlarge shirt he laid out for her in the bathroom.
Joanne stood on the tips of her toes dropping her plate and glass in the sink. She spun to exclaim, "all right, Miney, I'm ready!"
"Come on," she held out her hand, Joanne hopping to her side taking it.
The hallway was quiet, better lit with the sun's streaming its rays into the windows at the ends. They walked in silence, Joanne skipping until they were outside the front door. Hermione looked from left to right on the sidewalk.
"Mind you, I'm not familiar with this area. Care to tell me where to go?"
Joanne drew herself up proudly pointing to their left. "That way."
She followed the miniature Malfoy's directions turning three corners where the street curved into a parking lot, and a large patch of green grass. There were swings, slides, and teeter-totters, all empty. Joanne broke from her grasp running to the swings.
Hermione followed to help but she saw her push herself into the air giggling like tinkling bells. She didn't know many seven-year-olds like her. She was smart, and carried a lovely innocence that Hermione would give anything to have back. It carried with it a pain of longing that she tried to ignore.
"Watch how high I can swing, Miney! Watch!" Joanne thrusted harder off the ground, the action causing her blond curls to fly behind her.
"I see," she called sitting on a bench. The sight made her remember how it felt to be in the air, far from the ground, at any time able to hurt herself. She not only hated flying, she feared it. "Don't go too high!"
In response she laughed, and skidded the heels of her shoes against the ground to slow herself.
Hermione relaxed. She sounded so much like a mother then that it almost disturbed her. Almost. She couldn't describe the feeling that she felt towards her. Protectiveness, caring, maternal. It was a natural part of her that she long forgot. She had always had that instinct.
She dipped her head back the sun warming her face. She slipped off her sandals to feel the blades of grass between her toes. It prickled and stuck. She continued running her feet through them.
Fluffs of pure white clouds steadily rolled by. She remembered as a child she would pick out shapes. She could pick them out then; a horse... Glasses... A threstal... A dragon... An elderly woman... A chess piece... A bolt of lightening...
"This is so boring," Ron complained. "Do you not have enough books?"
Hermione slapped his arm playfully. "This is fun. Come on, try. What does that look like to you," she asked pointing up a rather large cloud that in her opinion resembled a spoon.
He rolled his eyes. "A cloud."
"You're not trying, Ron." She turned to Harry on her left. "Harry, what do you think?"
He squinted his eyes giving a lot more effort than Ron. "A cauldron?"
She tilted her head to the side, and smiled. "You're right, that does look like a cauldron. There, see, there are the handles."
"I can understand Harry doing this, but you, Hermione?"
She glowered at Ron, her new best friend. They were all in their first year at Hogwarts, and Hermione was learning as much as she could to fit in. She wanted to belong in this magical world. However she was appalled to find out that Pureblood's didn't know of cloud watching. Harry, a half-blood growing up in a Muggle household had. He came useful when Ron was a bit skeptic at her Muggle stories. "You can go inside, you know."
He didn't respond, but he didn't leave either, and Harry and Hermione went back to identifying shapes when out of the blue Ron claimed, "that looks like a Cleansweep."
Hermione grinned and kissed his cheek feeling the heating blood under her lips.
The clouds blurred and she looked away. The tears cascaded over her lids. She wiped them quickly before the child could notice. It was supposed to be a fun day.
"I'm flying," Joanne yelled halfway off the ground, her legs outstretched her slight body leaning towards the hard soil.
Heart in her throat Hermione hurriedly went over to stand behind her and caught her as she descended back. She held the chains letting it fall into place. She swallowed dryly thinking of her own greatest fear that seemed so small then. In a flash that fear wasn't falling, it was the little girl hurting herself.
It wasn't normal, Hermione recognized that. She shouldn't be feeling that way about a kid she barely knew. More-over she shouldn't be feeling that way about Draco's child of all people's. A child that wasn't hers, but someone else's. Draco wasn't her boyfriend or husband, she didn't even know if he could be counted as a friend. Not truly.
"Awww, why did you stop me? I was going to fly!"
"That's dangerous, you could fall," she gasped, her saliva still hadn't returned. "You could badly hurt yourself."
"But it would be fun to fly, and I'd be careful."
She bit her bottom lip. Draco strictly forbade her from talking about the magical world. She wondered why. She wondered many things, but it was none of her business. She wasn't going to be there long anyway. She couldn't get attached, but she couldn't help but think of how much like Draco she was. Wanting to fly so badly. It ached inside of her.
"Don't go that high again. It's not safe." She took a gander up checking the position of the sun. "It's almost lunch time. Lets get you home."
Joanne didn't move. She too looked up, her eyes squinted. "But you have no watch."
"You can tell time by the sun."
"Wow. How do you do that?"
Without answering Hermione chuckled and pulled her off the swing. It was another subject she couldn't discuss.
She learned how to tell time that way in her Astronomy class in Hogwarts. She thought how sad it was that Joanne didn't know anything about it. why was Draco keeping it from her? Why was he living in a Muggle area?
No, she scolded herself. She wouldn't ask questions. She wouldn't be around to find out. Anyhow, Joanne seemed happy regardless. Holding her hand securely she was skipping by Hermione. At least she was for two corners.
Suddenly at their third corner Joanne slowed. Her cheeks paled from their rosy color, and she was tinged a sickly green.
Hermione knelt down. "Joanne, are you feeling well?"
"No," she said weakly.
"What hurts?"
"My head, and tummy."
She felt her forehead burning her fingers. "You have a fever. Do you want me to carry you?"
She nodded and Hermione scooped her in her arms. She was light for someone who was seven, smaller than other children her age. Joanne snuggled against her and she tried not to jostle her in case she became nauseas. It was difficult; she wanted to run.
There was no doubt the poor girl had a temperature, and Hermione didn't know what to do. She never took care of sick children before. What if she did something wrong?
She concentrated on smoothing her movements up the flat steps, and then maneuvered the girl so she could open the door. She considered it lucky that she was able to do that without magic. With her foot she closed it.
Hermione took her straight to her room lying her on top of the covers. She went to the hall closet to grab a thick wool blanket. Joanne moaned as she tucked it around her. "It'll be okay," she reassured, not certain if she was telling herself or her. "This will help break your fever. I'll be right back."
Joanne was already sweating profusely. She hoped that was a good sign, she didn't know. She was only mimicking the things her parents did when she was sick.
All Hermione wanted to do was go to the park. She didn't know she'd make Draco's daughter ill. Calling him would be the right thing to do, and Hermione was halfway to the kitchen phone when she stopped. There was something more important that she should do.
She rushed into the hallway and banged her fist against the door of the Healer across the hall. She banged until the soft spot of the edge of her hand was bruised. Then the door opened to reveal him standing in jeans and a wife-beater, his honey-brown hair in a mess to his huge ears.
"Hermione?"
"Theo, Joanne's sick."
Immediately he shoved past her and into Draco's lounge. She had to run to catch up with him in Joanne's bedroom. He was on his knees by the bed feeling her forehead and cheeks. He checked her pulse, and pried her jaw wide to glimpse inside.
"Did it come on quickly," he asked.
"Um, yeah," she wrung her hands nervously. "Is she going to be okay?"
"I think it's only a twenty-four-hour bug. I'll get her something for her stomach."
Hermione waited anxiously until Theo returned. He helped Joanne sit up long enough to take one small pill and a long drink of water. He set the glass on her nightstand and came back to Hermione, his hand on the crook of her elbow dragging her out to the lounge.
"Did you call Draco?"
"I will. I wanted you to see her first."
Theo released her. "You did the right thing - you did everything right by her today."
"Thank you," she sighed looking to him hopelessly.
It was a distant memory but she did recall being friends with him. Most days she felt like all she could remember were awful painful memories but not all of them were. She missed the days where she thought that since the war was over so were her fears.
"He'll hate me," she said.
Theo smiled gently. "He's never hated you, and he won't now. This wasn't your fault. Children catch colds, it's normal." He leaned in kissing her cheek like he used to. It was odd how natural it came. "You know where to find me if you need me. I'll be by to check on her every few hours."
When he left, Hermione went to the phone hooked beside the refrigerator. She dialed the number from the paper under the magnet and waited for him to pick up.
"Draco Malfoy," he said professionally.
"Draco, it's Hermione."
His voice raised worriedly. "What's wrong?"
Would he hate her? "Joanne's sick. Theo says it's a twenty-four-hour-bug. He gave her some medicine -"
"I'm coming home." Hermione heard the small click and the dial tone. She hung up too.
Suffocating guilt pressed in on her, and it helped none when she peeked inside Joanne's room she saw that she appeared to be extraordinarily small. It was tough to be believe that it was the same bubbly kid that was trying to fly.
Hermione knew it wasn't her fault, but would Draco see it that way? Would she be forced to confront her old friends? Could she face her past?
Recalling something else her parents used to do she fetched a bowl from the kitchen filling it with cold water from the tap, a cloth from the closet, and went to set it next to the glass in her bedroom.
She brought the rocking chair over dipping the cloth into the water to dab the sweat soaking her hairline.
While she watched her sleep, her even breaths beneath the heavy blanket reassuring her that she would be okay she silently she prayed that the innocent child would be so. Hermione stayed there until she finally dozed as well.