Vienna

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing

AN: Oh My God everybody, I was not expecting that many reviews, I absolutely love every single one of you. Think we can do that again ;)? Lots of love to Anna, as always, for being the best beta in just about ever. Sorry for the super long wait, but here it is…

Chapter 9

Draco Malfoy

What was with everyone telling me to 'grow up' lately?

I was seriously considering going ape shit on the next person who tried to tell me about my 'responsibilities', or some crap like that. Who the hell did they think they were, my mother? My boss? Sure as fuck they weren't my father.

Blaise though, he was hiding something, it was written all too clearly across his guilty face. Though I got the feeling that whatever he was trying – and failing miserably at – to hide, he wasn't about to give it up any time soon.

Life used to be so easy when I didn't give a rat's ass about anything.

I apparated out of the Manor before realizing that I didn't actually have any place to go. All my friends – a grand total of two – were still in the Manor, and I had no intention of going back in there at the moment and listening to them blab on about how foolish and child-like I still was. It really was old news at this point. I could have gone back to my vacant apartment, but the only thing that was waiting for me there was a bottle of firewhisky and some crackers, and I assume that going into work inebriated on the day I get my partner wouldn't be a very good idea.

I settled for a park just outside the ministry.

Besides, what was the point of going home when I had nothing to go home to? I had no wife, nobody that I could love and that I knew would love and support me back. I had no kids to care for, spoil, and to protect. Nobody. For the longest time I had walked around with a feeling that part of me was missing, and I guess in a sense part of me was. I had had a chance at that happily ever after, but, in true Draco Malfoy fashion, completely fucked it up.

And now I had nothing.

And there wasn't anything I wouldn't do to get back what I had walked out on so many years ago. But the problem was would she take me back? I couldn't expect her to just let me waltz back into her life and pick up where we had left off in a blissful delusion of our old lives.

In the beginning I had only lusted after her, stunned by her beauty that had gone unnoticed after so many years of sick, chauvinistic, sadistic cruelty I projected towards her, an easy target. Yet for some reason, which to this day I am still unable to figure out, I fell for her. The fall I had been heading to was a different kind of fall, one where I just kept on going until I had sunk so low that I was sure rock bottom was the only other place left for me, though I couldn't hear myself falling, I didn't want to.

Rock bottom had come sure enough, but the collision I had been anticipating wasn't what I thought it would be, in fact, it wasn't much of a collision at all. The entire time I had been falling alone, but in the split second that I hit bottom, I wasn't alone anymore. She had been falling with me, only I hadn't realized it. And in the moment she had reached out to take my hand, I didn't feel any kind of hard impact. It was like my world had flipped upside down, and instead of falling I was floating upwards, her hand enclosed in mine. The entire time she had been incased in this unearthly glow, like she was my own personal gift from the gods, the face that launched a thousand ships.

As we rose, our bodies entwined together, it was almost as if our souls too were becoming intertwined. Fused together by the strongest, most powerful and intimidating force known to only the luckiest of men.

Love.

No one else in heaven or hell had more power over me than she did. Up until the moment she had loved me I had never known what it really felt like to be alive, her love had been like being wrapped up in a warm cocoon, impervious to any harm or outside forces.

I had been so terrified of losing her, so terrified of hurting her, that I ran from her, accomplishing the two things that I had tried so hard not to do all at once. It was only a tiny flicker of hope that she still loved me too that kept me going.

The ringing of church bells somewhere off in the distance brought me out of my thoughts. I looked down at my watch, only a few more minutes before I had to head into work. Walking through the park I could see a few small families sprawled out on blankets, mothers attempting to catch their kids and dogs yipping playfully behind them. It was all too… perfect. Surely nothing could be that easy, it just looked so natural, so normal. Not able to watch, I averted my eyes and started at the crumbling asphalt pathway.

By the time I had reached The Ministry, the sky had darkened slightly and a few lone rain drops escaped and landed on my face. Families that had been enjoying the warm September day ran at the sight of the oncoming rain, escaping to the shelter of various colored metal boxes on wheels and left. It was the lunch hour when I stepped foot into the Ministry's atrium, hundreds of wizards bustled past me; a fair few stopped what they were doing to stare at me. They looked quite shocked, apparently news of my return hadn't gotten out yet.

I simply brushed past those who were blocking my path and maneuvered my way through the mass of wizards and into the elevator. A rather nervous looking man stood shaking besides me, his eyes darting between myself and my wand, like he thought that I was going to hex him. A plump woman in overpriced and ostentatious out-of-fashion clothing was on my left. Her grotesque face contorting into what I think was supposed to be a wink, thought it looked more like a spasm.

Some things never did change.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Level two," A voice called from somewhere above me, signaling the stopping of the elevator. I stepped calmly out, though I was becoming quite annoyed from being stuck between jumpy and twitchy, over there.

I walked until I reached the office of the head of the department, and my new boss. Raising my hand I knocked twice on the wooden door where the name 'Arnold Janssen' was printed in bold, black lettering. "Come in," was the muffled reply from behind the door.

Arnold Janssen was a man in his mid fifties and had been in the department since directly after his graduation from Hogwarts, serving alongside and under Rufus Scrimgeour. He had a gruff exterior, his face framed by a scruffy salt and pepper beard that matched his graying mop of messy hair. A small scar extended from the end of his left eyebrow, ending right below his eye, adding to his intimidating aura.

"Draco," he said with a hint of a question in his deep, gravelly voice, "you're early."

"I know Sir," I replied, my own voice polite yet still cold, no need to upset the boss this early on, "but I didn't want to risk being late on my 'first' day."

His features softened a bit as he smiled, crows-feet crinkling at the corner of his eyes, and extended his hand, "Well then, let's get started. Take a seat, m' boy." He gestured to a chair across from his desk. "So what brings you back to London?"

I mulled my answer over in my head, trying to answer him as honestly as I could, "I just felt that it was time to come back… needed a change of scenery." My face remained devoid of any emotion the entire time, unnervingly calm to most, though Mr. Janssen seemed to just ignore it.

He nodded his head curtly, satisfied by my answer, "I believe you got the general idea of how things work around here yesterday. Am I right? After you get your partner today you will be assigned to a desk next to their's. It should be relatively boring the first few days, the majority of your time spent filling out paperwork. We usually don't send anyone into the field for about a week or two, and even then you must go with a partner. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Sir," I said. "Sir? Could you possibly tell me who my partner will be?"

He chuckled, "If you'd hold your damn trolls, I was getting to that. Now before I tell you, I urge you to listen before you react, it may come as a bit of a… surprise…" With another slight jerk of my head, I allowed him to continue on. "Since you're joining on much later then we usually allow, we wanted you to be able to learn quickly, and learn from the best. So, the Minister and I have decided that your first partner will be Harry Potter."

Nothing. Not a sound was made, you could have heard a pin drop fifty feet away. Where they shitting me? Potter? I'm sure there were plenty of other aurors that were just as good as Scarface, but for the love of Merlin, why did it have to be him?

Janssen squirmed a little under the icy intensity of my glare, "Now remember that this isn't permanent, it's just to help you learn the ropes. As of right now, Potter doesn't know, we'll be announcing it during the staff meeting in a few moments." He looked down at his watch and stood up, "Actually, we'll be announcing it right now, let's go."

We walked down a different hallway I had come from; the only sound exchanged between us was the squeaking of the soles of our shoes on the tile floor. He stopped me in front of a door, telling me to wait outside until I heard my name called. He probably thought I would cause a scene if I just walked on in there, unannounced and unwelcome. Looking through the slightly frosted window in the door I could see a large, brightly lit conference room, a circular wooden table situated in the middle and surrounded by all the aurors. Janssen took a seat at the head of the table, Potter at his right and Weaslbee directly next to Potter.

They talked business for a while, debriefing cases and handing out new assignments, until he shifted the subject away from work and into me. "So," I heard him start through the door, "I have a little announcement to make. We're going to be welcoming a new member to our staff today, but before I invite him in, I'd like to set some rules. This news may be a bit of a shock to you, but I advise you to receive him with open arms and an open mind. Nothing here can be accomplished with fighting and old grudges. He already understands this, so I expect that you will too." He caught my eye through the window and gave a nod, signaling me to come in and sit in the chair across from Potter, the one on his left.

A few people gasped when I entered the room, I think Potter stopped breathing all together, their faces distorted into expressions of astonish, some of utter loathing.

This was a huge mistake.

"Draco," he said, shaking my hand again, "take a seat." I looked at Potter, my face a mask of cool contempt and hatred. He remained calm, though I could see his death grip on the table turning his knuckles whiter than snow, his eyes narrowed into slits. On his side, Weasly was turning a horrid shade of red.

"Potter. Potter!" Janssen yelled and his gaze broke away from mine and faced his boss.

"Yes sir?" Potter said through clenched teeth. He was facing Janssen, but ever so slowly his eyes refocused themselves on my face again. After a few brief and tense seconds, his eyes widened the tiniest bit in… in what? Astonishment or recognition? Maybe both? It was so quick that I couldn't even place it. His brows furrowed, a quizzical expression taking over his face. He looked just like Blaise did this morning, studying me. It was becoming rather unnerving.

"For the love of Merlin, Potter!" barked Janssen, "Would you two like a room? If you think he's that beautiful then save it for after the meeting to ogle him. But if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to the meeting." Potter's face blushed a deep crimson red before turning his gaze towards the floor. "Good, now that I have your attention I can assign partners." He took out a sheet of parchment from inside a folder and scanned his eyes down the list. "Hawks, you go with Messer, Wolfe with Delko, Gibbs and McGee..." as he rattled off the names of the pairs, Potter looked to be growing increasingly more nervous each time his name wasn't called, "And finally, Potter, Weasly, and Malfoy."

"You have got to be kidding me," Potter whined into his hands. Weasly looked like a flabbergasted fish with its mouth hanging wide open on its hinges.

Such a baby, "Suck it up and get over it, Scarhead. I don't like it anymore then you do, but if you chose to do your suffering in silence and not in front of the whole entire bloody room, then we won't have any problems. But if you bitch and moan about how unfair your life is, then we will. The quicker we work together the quicker we get new partners." A glare was my only answer.

"Er… Thank you Draco. Okay, meeting dismissed, everyone back to work." Chairs scraped against the floor as entire room stated to get up. Janssen cleared his throat and we all stopped to look at him again. He pointed his finger at Potter, Weasly, and me, "Everyone… except you three." Slowly, I sat back down into my chair as The Weasel gave Potty a pat on the shoulder. "Harry, I expect you to be setting an example, not murdering your partner. You need to learn to work out your issues so you can get your job done, otherwise there will be consequences, and that includes childish name calling. Take the day to get acquainted with each other and fill out some paperwork; you won't get any field time until at least next week when Draco has had some training."

"Yes sir, Mr. Janssen," we said, though Potter sounded like a mumbling school boy who had just gotten caught with the answer key to next week's transfiguration test.

"Good, now be gone with you three." He got up and started walking towards the door. "And play nice." He called laughing as he left the room. There were a few tense moments of mutual silence as we just stared at each other, unblinking and unmoving. What in the bloody hell was wrong with this guy, thinking he could just stick us together and hope that we don't kill each other in the process. Old grudges don't just disappear over night. Well, at least not usually.

Hermione. I felt a ripple of pain shoot through my body when I thought about her. Just knowing that she was close, probably down the hall from where I was now made my heart ache with desire. All I wanted was to see her again, hold her in my arms and kiss her slender neck, ravish her body and worship it like it deserved to be. To have the feel of her fingers as they slid delicately through my hair, and experience once again the sensation of her hands running up and down my chest as they created jolts of electricity that would pulse under my skin and remind me that I was alive. But I wasn't brave enough to go to her, I didn't deserve her.

After what seemed like ages, Potty stood up, clearing his throat. "Come with me," he said and started walking before I could answer him. His faithful side-kick was trailing close to him, never leaving his side. We continued down the hallway I had originally come from, past Janssen's office and into another small, secluded office away from the tiny cubicles. Typical that the Golden Boy and his Robin would get their own office. I walked over to the only empty desk in the room, taking a seat behind it and propping my elbows up onto the smooth wood. Sighing, I dropped my head into my hands and started down at my lap.

Potter went over to his desk which was littered with various pieces of parchment and paraphernalia, including pictures, broken quills and empty ink bottles, a fair number of books and what I'm hoping is only today's leftover lunch. Weasly's desk looked about the same, minus the books. Did these two ever clean?

With a loud 'thud', Potter had dropped a pile of parchment onto of my desk, "Fill these out," he ordered.

"What are they?"

He let out a callous bark of laughter, "Its paperwork, what the hell do you think it is?"

"Potter," I said irritably, "this just isn't paperwork, it's the effing War and Peace of paperwork. Do you really expect me to do all of this by myself?"

Weasly spoke for the first time now, "Yes, and we each have our own different pack to do too. So stop complaining like a git, shut your trap, and do your work. None of us can leave until we all finish. There should be some quills and new ink inside of the desk." He was right; I groped around in the draws until I found a bottle of spell-checking ink and a quill. Continuing, Weasly said, "Your pile is required by every new employee, it's bloody easy, don't screw it up."

I held back a retort on where he could put his 'bloody easy paperwork', instead I snarled and narrowed my eyes at him until I turned them downwards at the first piece of parchment.

This was ridiculous; this entire pile of parchment was just personal information. Question number one, 'How much experience do you have in battling dark wizards? What is the extent of your knowledge? Please provide an example.' Did they really expect me to answer questions like this, shouldn't they have asked me this at my – oh, I don't know – interview?

Finishing a page, I looked up at the clock; it had only been ten minutes. I was becoming agitated and impatient, and sitting still in my seat was becoming increasingly more difficult. Without warning to the other two, I bolted out of my seat and to the door, shouting something about the bathroom back to them. I wasn't sure where I was going, or what I was even doing, but I just had to get out of there. My feet took me through the empty halls, delving deeper into the maze of cubicles and private offices until two large doors blocked my pathway.

With my palms facing outwards, I pushed both doors wide open and took a cautious step through where I found myself inside the Wizengamot. I froze, unable to take a step forward or move back. Did I have the strength to face her? My visceral reaction was to turn and run for my life, but something else stopped me. A pull from my heart, instead of my gut.

On the wall next to me was a row of name plates, each including the office number of the corresponding employee. I could see Hermione's name engraved onto the black metal, and without realizing it my hand came to hover in front of me, stuck between going back down to my side and fully extending so that I could brush my fingers up against the cool metal. It seemed to have a mind of its own as it started to inch forward, now not more than an inch away…

"You know, she's not here," I heard, followed by my name, behind me. Blaise was standing behind me, for how long I wasn't sure. His mouth curved into a smug smile before he took a sip of his coffee that he had in one hand. The other held a muffin with a copy of the Prophet under his arm. "So, what brings you to this end of the department, mate?"

"Shit, Blaise, don't do that." I just couldn't seem to catch a break today. "And what do you mean, 'she's not here'? She works here, doesn't she?"

"Yea she works here, but she left already, she always leaves around three." He tilted his head down the hallway, "come on, we'll go to my office."

His office was simple and elegant, clutter free but not impersonal; a large picture of him and Astoria sat framed in expensive silver atop his desk. I took a seat across from him in a plush leather chair.

"Where does she go at three? Doesn't everyone here get off at six, or is that some kind of 'new guy' office joke they're just playing on me?" I asked him.

"No," he laughed, "its not a joke, though if I was you I would keep your eyes open, just in case. She just has… other responsibilities that she has to attend to which requires her to be home at three."

Yea that sure explained a lot.

"Responsibilities, are you shitting me? For fucks sake, Blaise. If you wanted to be anymore vague you might as well be speaking in pig Latin!" If I wasn't sure he was hiding something before, I sure as hell was sure now.

"Draco, I may be your best mate, but some things just aren't in my right to tell." What was with all these goddamn secrets, was she doing something bad? Was she in trouble?

Had she moved on?

"You're no help," I grumbled to him. He merely laughed at me before opening up the Prophet and starting to read. A little less jumpy, I figured it was probably time to head back to Potter and Weasly, though I detested the thought.

It was harder to find my way back to the office then it was to just get lost within the department. Potter jumped me as soon as I walked through the door. "Where have you been!" he demanded, "you've been gone for an hour!"

I hadn't noticed that I had been gone for so long, "I got lost."

He grumbled something incoherently before stalking away.

…………..

Sleep hadn't come easy last night.

My mind had been too befuddled with thoughts of Hermione; she was all I could dream about. Each time I had allowed myself to sleep, I would wake – drenched in a layer of cold sweat and my entire body shaking violently. Now I was struggling to stay awake as I sat at my desk, nursing a cup of coffee in my hands while I waited for Potter and Weasel to come in.

Weasly was the first, sulking into the room, half conscious, as he grunted his acknowledgement of my presence at me. I was seriously starting to doubt if I was cut out for this whole nine to five work day, it wasn't like I really needed to work, or had anyone to work for.

Potter followed soon after. He seemed to be fine as he was walking in, but as soon as he saw me he went rigid, his hand was still on the doorknob as his flesh drained of all color. Standing like that, looking like all the life had been drained out of him only lasted a few seconds before his face flushed cherry red. He looked positively livid when he started to convulse, his shoulders and hands shaking uncontrollably.

The door slammed shut behind him as he stalked over to me, "Draco Malfoy! You foul, loathsome, no good son of a BITCH. I swear to God I'm going to murder you, you filthy little COCKROACH." Both Weasly and I jumped up at the same time, my first instinct to reach under my robes and grab my wand.

He was two feet from my desk and still advancing on me, when Weasly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He was able to grab both of Potter's arms and hold him back, trying to calm him down, "Harry, what the fuck, come on snap out of it! What's gotten into you, do you want to get fired? Think about Ginny, about James, what's going to happen to them when you get locked up for murdering your partner? Come on, Janssen was only joking about that."

"I'm going to murder him! I swear to God…" Potter was still yelling, unsuccessfully trying to get out of Weasly's grip.

"For the love of Merlin, Harry, come off it! I don't know what's gotten into you, but it has to stop right now." Weasly then proceeded to actually punch Potter when he refused to listen. I stifled a laugh, figuring now probably wasn't the best time if I didn't want Potter to kill me.

He had stumbled back away from the red head, his hand covering the part of his chin that was going to become a very nasty bruise soon. Defeated and emotionally exhausted, he collapsed into his chair, refusing to look at anything or anyone but his shoes. I called out to his not-so-faithful sidekick, "Thanks for that."

"It wasn't for you," He said, his voice flat and blank.

Aside from Potter's little outburst, which has yet to be explained though I have a feeling that it never will be, today was just like yesterday; more paperwork. At some point I thought my hand was going to fall off, but I never let myself get distracted, I put every ounce of my energy into the mindless forms that just never seemed to end.

"Harry," the Weasel said glancing down at the letter in his lap sometime after lunch ended, "Luna wants to know what you want for dinner tonight, Ginny's there with her now."

Potter looked up from the paperwork we had been filing a minute earlier. "Tell her to ask Ginny, I'll eat anything. Did she ask Hermione yet?"

My head shot up at the mention of her name, yet the two idiots didn't notice it. Instantly, I became interested in their rather boring conversation. Weasly continued talking, "I'm not sure, I'll go check on her in a few minutes. I have to see what Emma wants too. I think she's going through that stage again where she's refusing to eat anything but one food."

Scarhead started chuckling at a memory, "Do you remember when she wouldn't eat anything but spaghetti and meatballs for a whole month, Hermione had to start glamoring all her food to trick her into eating it." From what I could tell, this Emma sounded like a child, more specifically Hermione's child. Had she really moved on? Gotten married and started a family like I had feared all those years while I was away? But I couldn't blame her if she had, did I really expect her to wait around for me when I grew up and came back, like Blaise had said.

Yea, I guess I had.

What a selfish pig I was, but the thought of Hermione with anyone else but me, even though I deserved it, made me seethe with anger and see green with envy.

Weasly kept talking, "Oh yea, I remember that. Except she didn't call it spaghetti, it was more like basghetti. Made poor Hermione go mental."

"I can't believe she ratted us out, mate, we got her the doll and everything." I smiled without realizing it, blackmailing the two idiots gave her major points in my book, she sounded like a cute kid.

"Poor Hermione's got her handful with that one. She's definitely got a side that's not Hermione's though; you can't help but wonder where that came from."

Potter's face darkened, and he lost all of the enthusiasm from his voice and his gaze turned downcast as he stared at the floor again. "You know where that came from, Ron, the sick bastard that had left her to raise Emma on her own." I had to agree with the Boy-who-wouldn't-die on that one, anyone who left Hermione was a sick bastard.

Oh what a hypocrite I was.

"I'll never know how she manages to stay so together, though, in all fairness, he didn't even know."

"What are you, defending him now?" His voice had taken on an sharp edge of anger, protectiveness, and disgust. "You can't tell somebody anything if you can't find them, and she clearly couldn't find him." His fits were clenched tightly around his quill, and he snapped it into two. I was afraid he was going to snap again.

I heard myself speaking before I could stop and think about it, "Who is he?"

Both their heads snapped in my direction, like they had just remembered that I had been sitting there this whole time they were taking their little trip down memory lane. By now everyone had forsaken their paperwork.

"I'm sorry, were we talking to you, ferret?" Weaselbe sneered. He turned toward Potter, "I'm going to Hermione, see you tonight."

Potter was looking at me again, that same calculating look that he had given me yesterday afternoon and that Blaise had given me yesterday morning. It felt as if he was sizing me up, like I was a piece of meat for sale. He started talking, but his voice was slightly off and still laced with malice, "No, we don't know, she never told us. Excuse me… I have to, um, go find someone."

With that he stood up from his chair, confusion mixed with loathing clear across his face, and I shouted at his retreating back before the door slammed in my face, "Hey, Scarhead! What about all this paperwork!" But he was already gone.

They never came back. After two hours I had had enough waiting, and I got the okay from Janssen to leave early. I had taken to walking through the park by the ministry in the past couple of days, there was something calming about it, and it provided me with any easy way to let my mind lose from all the weight and guilt that I usually carried around on top of me. But when I reached my usual bench today, I realized that I wasn't alone.

A little girl, couldn't be more than six or seven, was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, a nasty looking scrap running down her left leg. Her shockingly ice blue eyes were red rimmed, like she had been crying, but that wasn't what shocked me. Something about her platinum-blond corn-silk hair, and stunning eyes just seemed so familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it, though I knew that it was probably so obnoxiously obvious.

I din't know what I wanted to do, walk away or go and help her, and I stood torn like I had the other day in front of the Wizengamot. Tentatively I took one step forward, followed by another and another until I was standing about a foot away from her. She looked up at me and our eyes locked, when a searing pain ripped through my heart that I had only ever felt when I was with Hermione, and a rapid torrent of emotions that I hadn't felt in a long time came swooping back into me.

"Can you help me?" A voice like the sound of little jingling bells said from the bench. She raised one tiny little hand to wipe another tear away from her eyes that had managed to break away.

I crouched down so that I was eye level with her. Those eyes were so damn familiar, if only I could place it… "Sure thing, honey. How about I heal that nasty cut of yours first, and then you can tell me what happened." Where the hell had this side of me come from? Never in my life have I dealt with little children, but this just felt so normal, like I was supposed to protect and care for her, like a father would.

Taking out my wand I tapped the cut once very gently and muttered a healing spell. The nasty gash disappeared but the blood still remained dried onto her leg. "Thanks Mr… oh, I didn't get your name, I'm sorry. I forgot that I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

She held out her hand, I shook it, her little faced scrunched in seriousness, acting just as serious as she was I took her hand, "I'm Draco Malfoy." Came my reply.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Draco, I'm Emma Rose Granger." Oh God, she was Hermione's daughter. What a sick, malicious joke someone up there was trying to play on me. She talked just like Hermone had, obviously she had inherited Hermione's brains, but oh boy she was going to be a heart breaker when she grew up. I didn't want to think about that.

Wait a minute, if Emma is here, where was Hermione? "Emma," I asked her, "where is your mother?"

Another lone tear slid down the smooth plane of her cheek, "That's the thing, Mr. Draco, I don't know where my mummy went. Can you help me find her?"

Her whole face lit up with hope and my heart swelled for her. I stood up at the same time she jumped off the bench and grabbed my hand, pulling me forward along the path. She rambled on about her new school, her pet cat Winky, and even what she wanted to do for her sixth birthday. I just listened. No more than five minutes after we started walking we heard Emma's name being called frantically. Still holding onto me, Emma started to run forward, taking me with her as we rounded a corner and found a very distraught looking Hermione close to hysterics.

"Mummy! Over here, over here!" Emma called after her. Hermione's eyes snapped in our direction, and she spun sharply on her heals, though I don't think she saw me, only Emma. I hadn't realized that I had stopped breathing at the sight of her until my chest started to hurt from the lack of oxygen.

Hermione was on her knees, kissing Emma all over her face and checking her body for any sign of harm when she noticed the blood on her leg. "Baby girl, what happened?" she asked.

"Oh, I fell and got a boo-boo. But it's all better now, Mr. Draco fixed it."

"Mr. Draco?" Her brows furrowed together, something I noticed she used to do whenever she was thinking hard about something, or about an unpleasant thought.

"Yea, this is Mr. Draco, he helped me find you too, Mummy." Emma pointed up at me, "He even looks like me too, isn't that funny." Hermione's eyes locked with mine, burning with pain and a resentful hatred, when everything just finally clicked into place.

Emma was turning six.

Hermione and I were together six years ago

Why Emma's features seemed so familiar to mine.

They were mine.

Why I felt such strong fatherly like feelings for her when I saw her hurt and upset.

I was her father.

Oh my God, I was her father.

Holly fucking hell.

I was the bastard Potter and Weasly were talking about.

I left Hermione alone, and pregnant.

I was a sick, sick monster.

I was a father.

"Shit," Hermione said.

*Runs and hides from flying objects while waving a white flag*

AN: So… what do you think? I'm sorry, but it had to be ended there, and so far this was my longest chapter yet, over six thousand words, thirteen pages. Now review, review, review! Oh, since I kept you waiting, and you know I hate to do that, you can ask one question again, and one question only about anything you want and I'll make sure I answer it for you. But this is only if you leave a signed review.

Well, I've recently become addicted to twitter (it's so bad), and I've taken up stalking Tom Felton's twitter, where I found this picture from some movie he was filming. Just replace the (dot) for an actual period.

http://twitpic(dot)com/1tvim

Next Chapter: Six Years Ago