Normally, I would post this chapter tomorrow, but I have a wedding to attend. Thanks for the Bradbury clarification! I've never read Ray Bradbury's work, so he in no way inspired the name. Now I wish I were smarter, and could say that he did.

Chapter 3

"I saw you had company yesterday," Hermione commented as she fed Liam while Charlotte folded laundry. "Two strapping young lads. A secret romance, perhaps?"

A nervous chuckle preceded her response. "No, no, just...tourists," Charlotte said. "My life has never been scandalous enough to catch the attention of two twenty-somethings, no matter how good looking they might be."

"They certainly were handsome," Hermione agreed. Draco entered the living room, Clara on his back, with a questioning look on his face. "Not nearly as handsome as my husband though. Only man I have eyes for is Draco."

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her. "You always have the right answer," he murmured. "So, these tourists - did you suggest they stay around for the apple festival? Hermione made fifteen pies last week, desperately trying to perfect her recipe."

"We had pie for dinner when Mommy was having Liam," Clara added. Draco winced as Hermione shot him a pointed glare. "Daddy said it was healthy."

Try as she might, Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "I was wondering what happened to them when we got home," she commented. Draco set Clara down, and she stood by her mother's side. "Daddy told me elves ate them."

"I'm an elf?" the little girl asked, horrified.

Draco bent to her height and ran his fingers through her hair. "What's wrong with being an elf?" he wondered. "Who do you think makes your Christmas presents? The elves do. But you don't have pointy ears, so if you're worried, I think you're safe."

Clara breathed a sigh of relief as she climbed onto her father's back once more. She was a princess and he was her horse, and Draco galloped off to continue their game. Charlotte watched as father and daughter played happily. "I envy you," she said softly.

Hermione moved Liam to her shoulder and rubbed his back. "Why?" she wondered.

"I loved my husband," Charlotte said. "We were young, like the two of you, when we married. We met at a school in Maine. He was a year older than me, and the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. We were only in our mid-thirties when Adam passed away. He'd been hit by a drunk driver, coming home from work one night. For years, we put off starting a family because money was tight. By the time we were ready to try, he was gone."

Standing, Hermione moved to the sofa where Charlotte sat, and offered her newborn to her. "You have a family here," she promised. "You always will. I know we're not your children, and thank goodness for that because Draco and I are married, but you have been like a mother to both of us. Honestly, I don't know where I'd be without you. Clara would be a mess, that's for sure."

Charlotte fondly recalled the Malfoys' struggle to give an infant Clara a bath for the first time. Draco was soaking wet, Hermione was at her wit's end, and Clara screamed bloody murder. She had come to the house after the Malfoys' mail was delivered to her by mistake, but the couple was happy to allow her to step in and help.

"You would have been fine, with or without me," Charlotte assured her. "These babies are lucky to have two wonderful parents."

Though she knew she should accept the compliment and move on, Hermione worried that something was wrong. It was in Mrs. Bradbury's nature to speak only the kindest words, but there seemed to be something hidden beneath the surface, a sense of melancholy that bothered the young mother.

"If something were wrong, you'd tell me, right?" Hermione asked as her brow furrowed deeply.

Smiling, Charlotte nodded. "Sometimes I just get a little too nostalgic for my own good," she replied. "It's one of the perils of old age. Anyhow, I should be getting home."

Holding Liam again, Hermione rose and led her to the door. She watched, worry etched in her features, as Charlotte crossed the lawn to her house. Draco joined her as she closed the door. "Something is going on with her," she said, glad that Clara wasn't with him. They moved to the front window for a better look at their neighbor. "Those men are back."

"Should we go over there?" Draco wondered. "I'd hate to think she's in trouble."

Hermione eyed the men warily. The tall redhead seemed laid back enough, but his partner with the dark hair and rounded glasses was more intense. If there was trouble, it was at the shorter boy's hand. "I don't know, sweetheart. I don't think I trust them," she replied. "I just...there's this feeling in the pit of my stomach that says they're bad news."

His mind made up, Draco marched to the door. "I'm going over," he declared, despite his wife's efforts to keep him from doing so. He marched across their lawn, and stomped up the porch steps. "Afternoon, gentlemen. Something the matter?"

The bespectacled man turned, frowning when he spotted Draco behind him. He seemed to recognize neither of them, and that worried Harry. The redhead clamped a hand down on his shoulder and smiled. "No problem here," he replied. "Just needed directions. We'll be going now."

There was an urgency in his voice, but the raven haired man paid it no mind. "You must be Draco Malfoy," he said, holding out his hand. "Harry Potter."

Draco accepted and shook his hand. "Just passing through town?" he inquired. Harry Potter nodded while his friend sighed impatiently. "Well, we'll be here a couple more days. We have business to attend to."

There were questions that Draco wanted to ask, but the redhead who introduced himself as Ron Weasley said it was time to go. The pair left then without a word, leaving Draco and Mrs. Bradbury alone. "What's going on?" he wondered. "Those two were here yesterday too. You'd tell me if they're giving you trouble, right?"

"They just needed directions," she replied.

Draco's brows rose dubiously. "Two days in a row?" he asked. "The town isn't big enough to get lost in. I don't like them coming around and bothering you like this. Why don't you stay at the house tonight?"

"I don't need protecting," Charlotte replied defiantly. "Those boys are no trouble. Besides, you heard them - they'll be gone soon. I'm fine, Draco."

He knew to back off, and returned home. Hermione waited by the door, anxiously awaiting answers. Shaking his head, he sat down on the sofa. Minutes passed before she implored him to tell her what happened on Mrs. Bradbury's porch. "I think you're right not to trust those two," he said, carefully choosing his words. "I don't know why they've been harassing her, but I'm calling the cops if they show up again."

"Was Mrs. Bradbury upset?" Hermione asked, taking a seat beside him.

Again, he shook his head. "That's the thing - she wasn't upset, but she didn't treat them the way she usually would if a stranger showed up on her porch," he replied. Charlotte Bradbury was jovial and welcoming, willing to help any who asked. "With them, she seemed cagey. I'm worried about her, love."