Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.
Chapter 36 The Thing About Sisters, Part Two
Hermione woke up at an ungodly early hour on the morning of Draco's birthday. Judging by the rumpled and twisted condition of the sheets around her fiancé, Hermione presumed that he'd been sleeping very restlessly again. For the fifth night in a row.
Even as her eyes focused to the dim light in the room, she could see Draco's hands twitching, as well as the corners of his mouth. As she had the previous four nights, Hermione wondered what on earth he was dreaming of.
"They're not bad dreams at all," Draco had admitted the previous morning over coffee. "Mostly its just childhood memories, and most of them center on Mother. You know, in my usual nightmare trips down memory lane, everyone around me is either frightened or incredibly angry, and the entire surrounding area is some kind of dark and menacing horror. But these dreams have been all about laughter, running, playing, and singing. Christ, I'd forgotten my mother used to sing constantly when I was small." Draco had smiled then, and ambled off to harass the pups.
Later that day, Hermione had heard him humming, and asked him what song he was thinking of.
"Just a song I've remembered. Mother would sing it to us all the time," Draco had said, offhandedly.
"You and Lucius?" Hermione had asked.
Draco scoffed. "Hardly. No, I meant myself and that little French girl that I used to play with. Lila or whatever." Then he'd shrugged his shoulders as if it were no big deal. A few minutes later Hermione had seen him smiling vacantly at his tea mug. An hour or so after that, she'd spotted him standing in the stairwell running his fingers along the hand rail and chuckling quietly. Later that evening, she'd found him in the storage room, plinking at the keys on her mother's piano, and humming softly again.
Obviously whatever he'd initially dreamed of had opened some kind of locked away box of happy memories. Hermione was glad Draco remembered some part of his childhood with something other than a variety of disgust and regret. She knew he missed his mother dearly, and hoped that the memories would be a comfort to him, to know that not all of Narcissa Malfoy's life as his mother had been bad.
/…../
While Hermione bustled in the kitchen on Draco's birthday, brewing coffee and putting together their breakfast, Draco had, in fact, been dreaming of his mother again. She'd been singing and swinging his hand as they skipped through the garden. Skipped! He'd never thought of his mother as a woman who would do something like that.
Then, like every night previous, he started getting flashes of images.
Two small joined hands.
A tiny green dragon flying by his shoulder.
Sliding down the bannister at the Manor – something he had not done since he was quite small – and pealing, childish laughter.
A voice was murmuring in his ear. It was Mother's voice. Mother, who, when he was very young, made every action into a song and every adventure into a lesson. Mother, who he loved, and who loved him in return.
'Flesh of my flesh; bone of my bone. I will always be with you, and you will always be with me. We will always be together, and you will always be able to find each other, because you are mine, and I will always love you.'
Tiny hands propped up on the piano keys as Mother tried to get their little fingers to stretch to reach the different notes.
The memories bled into his waking hours over the past few days, but rather than making him morose, Draco was pleased by the utter normalcy of these snippets of his earliest years.
'I will always be with you,' Mother whispered in his ear as he walked Artemis and Apollo. Brother and sister gamboled along together, sniffing and tugging at their leashes as they investigated the fire hydrant and light pole.
'We will always be together, and I will always love you,' brushed against his temple as he jogged up the stairs. As he punched in the passcode to the flat, he thought he remembered a bit of a memory from when he was four. Maybe younger. He had his plush flying dragon, and it followed him as he ran between rows of vines.
Not running, no, he was being chased. And she giggled and giggled as she tried to catch him. No, not him! His dragon! And their combined laughter swirled around them.
"It's not fair! I wanna play fairy war and I need a dwagon! Dway-co doesn't need a dwagon. Dway-co is a dwagon! You said so!"
Draco woke up on the morning of his birthday with the thought, 'Lila is a poopy-britches, meanie, doxy-face.' But before he could think any further on the uncharitable thoughts by himself as a four-year-old, his family pounced on him in the bed and smothered him in birthday kisses.
"Blech!" Draco whined as he rubbed the dog slobber off of his face. Hermione just laughed and passed him a mug of coffee, and they promptly fell into discussion of their plans for the day.
"We're meeting the whole lot of our friends at seven for dinner just around the corner," Hermione announced as she dragged him out of the bed and towards the shower.
"Why not just have everyone here?" Draco asked. "Our place is plenty big enough-"
"No way, Draco," Hermione cut in. "I'm not cooking for that many, and our table only seats four people. Besides, if Mafalda decides to pop in, she'd likely land on someone and break the statute all at once."
Draco chuffed at Hermione's statement as he shucked his pajama bottoms. "Right, that would be cause for some conversation amongst the locals, wouldn't it?"
"Indeed. Our friends seem to be pretty tolerant of our secrets and strange habits. I'd prefer to keep it like that," Hermione said as she tugged her top over her head. Draco followed her into their shower, and spent a few moments warming their bodies under the warm spray. He curled his arms around Hermione's back and drew her into him, so that their chests were pressed tightly together, and Hermione's head tucked perfectly under his chin. Draco rested his head on top of Hermione's as they quietly stood under the streaming water, and hummed when he felt her turn her head slightly to plant a kiss on his chest.
"Happy birthday, darling," Hermione murmured, and Draco hummed again in thanks.
"Is there anything in particular you want to do today?" he heard her ask quietly, as her hands slid up and down his back, teasing and tickling him. Draco groaned as Hermione rubbed her hips against his, and he dropped his hands down to her bum and pulled her even closer into him.
"I can think of a few things, actually," he replied, and grunted as he ground his near-instantaneous erection against her soft skin.
"Oh yeah?" Hermione asked him, and Draco could tell by the low, sultry pitch of her tone that she was as ready as he was.
"Mmmhmm," he murmured in agreement, and adjusted his hands to her hips, and then gently turned her body away from him so that she was facing the wall. Draco pulled her hands up and prompted her to cross her arms in front of her head to act as a cushion, and then he adjusted Hermione's back and legs so that she was situated at just the perfect angle.
"Perfect," he whispered, and pushed his cock down to rest in just at the right spot between her legs, then brought his free hand around to her front side to rub at that tiny, hidden spot of Hermione's body that had always been just for him. Knowing that he was the only man who'd made Hermione feel the way he could, that he was the only man who'd ever figured out how to make her body quiver and sing for him…well. It was a heady thing.
And speaking of head…Draco observed how Hermione thunked hers against her crossed arms as he pushed his into her, right at that perfect moment, just before she'd fallen over the edge. Her moan of acceptance shortly turned to a wail as he drew nearly all the way out before slamming back inside of her.
There was something to be said about shower sex, or sex in general when they were both standing.
It was loud.
Draco didn't know if it was simply because the angles were more stimulating, or because every part of their bodies were engaged in the act, but…fuck if he could hold back from grunting and babbling like a madman as he worked her over. And if he was loud, he was downright grateful the fortress was so insulated away from other people, because Hermione was a fucking screamer when he took her like this.
Hermione had come once for him, just as he'd gotten started, and Draco wanted to get her one more before he lost it. With one hand cupping a breast and pinching as hard as he dared, and the other buried between her thighs, slipping around his cock and stimulating her to the point of near insanity, Draco leaned in close to the side of her head and licked and bit at her neck and ear.
"You are mine, love. My…God…my Hermione. Fuck me, that's it girl…oh, so good. Fuck! God, I love…nnnnngh…Oh, that's my girl, come on, love, come for me. Shit! That, oh, feels so-" Draco broke off and his breath caught as Hermione's back arched and she clamped down on him with a high-pitched keen that he felt all the way down to his toes.
They remained locked together, panting, spent, and silent for several moments after Draco's orgasm finally stole his ability to speak.
Huddled on the floor of the shower, Draco tucked Hermione into his arms and kissed the side of her head. She hummed in lazy pleasure, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of love for the woman slumped against him. Draco hugged Hermione tightly, and without thought, whispered the words that had been tugging at his memory and tumbling through his subconscious for the past several days.
"We will always be together, and we will always be able to find each other, because you are mine, and I will always love you," Draco murmured against the side of her head, and then kissed her temple again.
Hermione froze in his arms. "What did you just say?" she asked quietly.
Draco frowned. "That I will always love you? Why? It's not really a secret, girl."
Hermione shook her head. "Not that. The bit before it. The part about always being together, and able to find each other."
Draco cocked his head and thought for a moment, slightly embarrassed to have Hermione questioning the nonsense that came out of his mouth so soon after an orgasm.
"Erm, I think I said that we will always be together, and able to find each other, because you're mine. And that I will always love you. But that shouldn't be news, love. We're getting married in a few months."
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "The way you said it, though. 'We will always be together, and we will always be able to find each other, because you are mine…" she drifted off, and Draco could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
"And I will always love you," he finished for her.
"I know that," Hermione said, and Draco was starting to feel a little insulted that she was dissecting and casually dismissing what had been a fairly heartfelt declaration.
"Draco, where did you learn that?" Hermione asked.
Draco frowned. "Did I learn it? Why? It's not a poem or anything that I know of. I just…hmm…I think it's similar to something my mother used to say to me. You know about all the dreams I've been having lately."
Hermione sat up straight in his arms, and he dropped them down to rest on her thighs as she braced her hands against his chest.
"Flesh of my flesh; bone of my bone. I will always be with you, and you will always be with me. We will always be together, and we will always be able to find each other, because you are mine, and I will always love you," Hermione recited, and Draco's eyes flew open wide.
"Yeah, that's it, from what I remember. Only Mother used to sing it-" Draco paused when Hermione gasped.
"Draco, what was she doing when she sang that to you? When did she do it?" Hermione asked.
"All the time when I was smaller, and if I remember, in those weeks I was with her before she passed, she would hum a similar tune," Draco said thoughtfully, as he recalled those last painful days of his mother's life. She'd been on a great deal of pain potions, and muttered nonsense, in both English and French, come to think of it. But she had hummed small tunes off and on, in her more lucid times.
Hermione was looking at him and biting her lip. "I don't really understand what your mother was doing, or why, Draco. But you should know, that's not a song. It's a compulsion charm. A subtle one, but very strong, and as far as I'm aware, permanent and binding. It's nearly as strong as an Imperius, while still allowing for free will. The question is, what was your mum compelling you to do, that she wouldn't just tell you outright? And furthermore, why had she been charming you for the majority of your childhood?"
Draco scowled deeply, and his hands dug into Hermione's hips. "No, the question we should be asking is, what in Merlin's name was Mother keeping from Lucius?"
/…../
Between the ringing of Hermione's mobile, and Draco's need to take Artemis and Apollo for their morning walk, all speculation of Narcissa's clandestine plans for her young son were set aside for a time. But Draco couldn't help but think of that tune, that insignificant sounding little blip of a song, that Mother hummed and chanted so constantly in his presence, so often, in fact, that he'd randomly found himself humming it and various points in his life. He wondered now if just humming would engender a compulsion on the persons hearing, or if it was the intent and the words, or maybe the presence of certain wand movements, that powered the charm.
He addressed this thought to Hermione as they ate lunch at the deli near the park, and Hermione waved him off. "No need to worry about that, Draco. It's actually blood magic, thus the reference at the beginning to flesh and bone. So unless you exchanged blood with anyone whilst humming or holding your wand, you should be free from accidental enslavement of others." Hermione shook her head as Draco chewed and pondered every past incident he could remember that that tune left his mouth.
"Honestly, it was a little irresponsible of your mother, setting that to an easy to memorize tune and repeating it so often to an underage wizard. You could have done a lot of harm to another person if you'd known what you were doing," Hermione mused.
Draco nodded as he waded through his memories for any time he'd exchanged – bugger. He swallowed a large bit of bread and meat that suddenly tasted of sawdust.
"There you go, three times blood exchanged. Now we'll be best friends forever, Granger."
Oh fucking mother of God. He hadn't been humming out loud, but the tune had been rolling in his head. It was merely self-comforting, that small bit of notes that reminded him of his mother, and…what had he done?
/…../
Research. It would be best if he could conduct some research. Mafalda was a terrible person to request help from, though, as her unwavering loyalty to the letter of Wizarding law meant that she'd have a difficult time delving into the history of any possible blood magic that he may or may not have performed on his at the time comrade at arms, and now fiancée.
And while he was deeply worried that the compulsion had somehow altered Hermione's ability to choose to love him, he couldn't do anything to alter such a charm now; not only was he Suppressed, the bond was a permanent one.
All he could do at this point was hope that she never fucking found out…oh, who the fuck was he kidding? He couldn't not tell her; besides the fact that she'd have his head for keeping something like this from her, she'd have his bollocks for keeping something like this from her.
Draco was eventually able to set aside his concerns about Hermione's freedom from any unintentionally administered blood bonding, because he simply couldn't do anything with the information without telling her what he'd…possibly…done. And he didn't want to enter into any discussion with Hermione that included the words "accidental" and "permanent" without some level of humor or braggadocio; 'honey, I've accidentally cured male pattern baldness whilst developing this incredibly safe and permanent hair removal paste for your legs,' would work, or perhaps, 'dearest, have you heard that I have permanently won the title of King of Europe, just by accident of my birth? Yes, it seems Potter wasn't the only one born under a prophecy, heh heh…"
That he could work with.
This, not so much.
Despite his fretting, and cursing of his non-royal, non-prophesized birth, Draco found himself standing in the entry of the Italian restaurant at nearly half six that evening, surrounded by his friends and near-family – those being the various members of Hermione's Weasley clan that could make the trip – to celebrate that he had been born, and had lived to hear a stupid fecking jingle from his mum that randomly popped into his head at bloody inopportune times.
Ellie and Rosie grasped at his hands and tugged on them to garner his attention, and so Draco knelt down to see what it was the twin sisters had to tell him.
"Happy birthday, Uncle Dwayco!" they squealed, and threw their little arms around his neck and head. Draco chuckled, and, despite his tension, allowed their good humour to wash over him and put him in more of a celebratory mood.
"Many thanks, my princesses. And, what's this? You got me a birthday present?" Draco asked with a chuckle as a luridly pink bag with glittering ribbon was thrust into his face.
"Come on now, my fairy girls! Let the man set himself first before you go knocking him to the floor," Shaun Fraser said in his rolling brogue accent as he swept first one, then another, blonde child under his arms.
The party was temporarily brought to a halt in their progress through the restaurant when Ellie and Rosie first noticed the Weasley twins. Draco noticed the girls whispering in each other's ear, and touching each other's heads, but it was the tiny fingers that kept pointing at first Fred, then George, that got him laughing.
When Draco's laughter caught the elder twins' attention, the duo grinned in unison and swept over to kneel in front of the girls.
"Oi, George!" Fred exclaimed.
"You see this, Freddie?" George responded.
"You're identical!" they said in unison to the little girls, and the entire group burst into gales of laughter at the sight of the younger twins wonder.
The large group settled in the courtyard at a long rectangle of a paper-covered table, with Draco at the head, flanked by the two small sisters and their army of crayons. Hermione sat at the opposite end, and he smirked at her as she waved sheepishly at him as her friend Lisa stood next to her and wrote down drinks orders.
"You have to open your present!" Ellie exclaimed from his right.
"Yes, because we have to make a fight!" Rosie cried from his left as she pushed his gift bag closer to him.
Draco coughed slightly at the sight of the feminine, and slightly gaudy bag. "It's, erm, really pretty, girls. Thank you," Draco said as gamely as he could, and shot a quick grimace at Fred – or George, he couldn't tell from this side – who guffawed and waved his fingers in a ridiculously feminine manner in Draco's direction. His fingers itched in slight revulsion at the thought of what sparkling pink horror he'd find inside from the four year old duo. A 'magic' glitter wand, or a 'real' crown perhaps? The girls made no attempts to hide the fact that they really wanted Draco to play dress-up with them. Aunt 'Mione would, so why couldn't he? He'd been able to dodge the game with the lament that, alas, he had no dress-up clothes to wear, big and tall as he was.
"Sorry about that wrap job, mate. Ellie and Rosie were very firm about their decision for your gift, down to the bows. But don't worry about the insides. They weren't able to find a dress big enough for you at the princess shop, so they went more…practical," Shaun said, tongue-in-cheek, from his position on the far side of Rosie.
"By practical, he means the girls picked something you can share with them," Sue explained helpfully, and gestured towards the bag, whilst Rosie and Ellie divvied up crayons and settled in to wait out their pseudo-uncle.
Draco smiled at the girls, and raised an eyebrow as he looked up to see Hermione watching him with the corner of her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. He presumed she was holding back laughter, judging by the merriment he could see in her green eyes. At the urging of the fairy girls, Draco plunged his hand inside the bag and felt…felt. Or some kind of plush fabric.
He retracted his hand and withdrew a dark green plushy dragon. It had sparkles on its wings, to be sure, but other than that, its masculinity was in good standing, as its plastic eyes were drawn in as fierce of scowl as a stuffed toy could manage, and its molded body style implied muscularity, not squishiness.
It was remarkably similar to the toy dragon he'd owned as a child the same age as Ellie and Rosie, and he could immediately see why they were drawn to it. This was the sort of dragon that could lay waste to the simpering fey as they flittered about field and forest, without there being concerns of nightmare-esque slaughter such as an older child – most definitely a boy – would find so appealing.
Draco smiled and ran his hand across the dragon's back.
"Yay!" Rosie and Ellie exclaimed in unison. "Now we can play!"
The adults around them broke into amused laughter as the girls directed Draco to place the dragon just so, and set about the placement of various fairies for the great war.
It seemed that the candy fairy – pink – had been sunbathing in the field and got all sticky and melty. The dragon stepped on her as he'd been walking along the grass – he'd been attending his own business and not bothering anyone, mind you – and she'd gotten stuck to the underside of his foot. Not only that, she'd been quite splatted about all over the grass, and eventually the grass fairy – green, of course – got swept up in the melee, leaving the dragon with two fairies stuck to his foot.
Now, here's where it got tricky. Rosie and Ellie still hadn't come to an agreement on the purple fairy's job position, and so they kept having to resort to the blood fairy – red, naturally – to incite all violence against the dragon. The red fairy got quite a work out during most battles, but the purple fairy stayed to the side, not sure if she were to deal out ouchies or juice to the dragon.
"Oh, are you lot playing fairy and dragon war? That used to be my favorite as a kid," a voice to Draco's left startled him, and he looked up to see Hermione's friend, Lisa the waitress, leaning against Rosie's chair with her notepad and a wine menu. The young woman handed Draco the menu with a smirk, then turned to the girls and chatted briefly with them about their colorings.
"Oh, I see," Lisa said thoughtfully after hearing the current debate on the purple fairy's plight. "I always thought of the purple as the night-night fairy – oi, I was a little kid; that was a perfectly reasonable name!" she cried indignantly when Sue and Shaun snorted at the use of the term 'night-night'.
Draco nodded his head in sudden understanding. "That's right," he said. "I remember that. She swoops in and its lights out, everyone to bed, including the dragon."
Sue and Shaun looked back and forth between Draco and Lisa, and Sue asked Draco, "Did you two grow up nearby each other or something? Attend the same primary school? Because I don't know about the rest of this lot," Draco watched Sue gesture to the rest of the table, "but I thought Draco's little drawing game of dragon and fairy war was pretty unique. I've never seen anything like it."
Draco drew up sharply, and couldn't help the insulted feeling that rose up in him. Of course he hadn't grown up with Muggles, what a ridiculous concept. But propriety and the need for discretion smothered his ingrained snobbery.
"Oh, no I don't think so," Lisa said, shaking her head. "I was adopted when I was a little thing, probably the same age as your girls. My parents said I came from France, so unless Draco over here is secretly a Frenchman, I think that's a bit impossible."
Draco felt a nudge against his memory, his mother's voice again. Assuming it was the French comment, he shook it off, not wanting to get caught up in his unraveling childhood memories again, and adjusted his glasses so that he could read the wine list.
Lisa rattled off a few new names of vintages that the restaurant had brought in from Spain recently, and Draco made his selection, then returned to the drawing with the girls. Ellie adjusted the dragon so that he had a foot firmly on a squashed-looking pink blob that represented the candy fairy, and the battle continued.
Rosie waited for her chance, and just as the dragon – at Draco's urging – prepared to grab the blood fairy and tear her wings, she reached across the expanse of paper sky and scribbled in purple as fast as her little arm could move.
"Night-night!" she cried, and Draco and Ellie groaned. Draco knocked the dragon over on its side and made snoring noises, which got the girls to giggling just as Lisa re-appeared with a tray full of drinks.
"Oh, its lights out for all dragons and fairies," Lisa exclaimed, and Rosie nodded triumphantly, but then her eyes opened wide.
"But we're fairies!" she cried, and she and Ellie comically dropped their heads onto pillowed hands on the table and made fake snores to echo the dragon.
The nearby grown-ups chuckled even as the fairy-girls giggled through their faux slumber.
"Nice," Lisa said, and plunked the girls' drinks down close to their parents. Draco grabbed the dragon by a wing just as the waitress lowered his glass to the table.
"Nice dragon, Drac-" Lisa said, and then broke off with a frown.
"Oh, erm, yes, well it's my birthday, and when the girls found out my name means dragon in another language, they thought it great fun to give me a dragon of my own," Draco said amiably, and picked the plush toy up to set it…somewhere, anywhere. He was a grown man for pity's sake.
Hermione's voice called from the far end of the table. "Lisa, are you all right?" Draco looked up to see the waitress still standing next to him and frowning deeply.
"Draco doesn't need a dragon; Draco is a dragon. Mummy said so," Lisa said vaguely, and then both she and Draco froze.
/…../
Ginny's eyes popped open wide and her gasp of pure recognition and conviction swept her to her feet, even as Hermione was jumping to hers.
"I knew it!" she cried.
To Be Continued.
P.S. Don't hate. My brain hurts too much for hate. Work is destroying my ability to think about anything else, except for work. Its crushing my imagination and sucking away at my life force. Ugh. You know, this time last year I was luxuriously spending the month in Key West. This year? Oh, 12-14 hour work days, and hey, lets work weekends, too! But other than that, I'm finding ways now to incorporate writing into my work day - lunchtime! I know this chapter is a bit of a cliff-hanger (*cough* understatement *cough*), but I'll get chapter 37 posted soon enough. And then we'll go ahead and flip this whole story of mine right on its head and shake out some of those plot lines I've been combing out over the past 36 chapters! All I'm saying is, get ready to goggle at your screen and say, "what the crap, acro?!"
Have I ever mentioned that this is not your typical Dramione?
For everyone who has checked in on me, loved on me, and shamelessly pimped out ARL (like ShayaLonnie! Go read all of her stories. So yummy!), THANK YOU. Seriously. You guys keep me motivated, even when I'm floundering. For Phnxgirl, thank you for keeping me on task and as grammatically correct as the two of us can manage! You're the best! And yes, I promise I will work on chapter 37 this weekend.
Happy reading,
acro