A/N- I must say, this is my favorite chapter in this fic so far... *wipes tear from eye* It's just so beautiful!
Disclaimer- I'm not sure why I even bother with these things.
Chapter Fifteen
"So a little birdie told me that you were going to have fireworks tomorrow night," Hermione lounged against the kitchen counter, assisting Madam Quincie in preparing dinner. The enticing scent of tomato sauce wafted up from the pot, and the brunette stirred it without thinking.
"I guess Evan revealed the party I was planning on having," The older woman suggested, sprinkling a bit of shredded cheese into the pasta, "I suppose you and Orion can come," She winked playfully.
Hermione stirred the sauce again, eyes down. She did not want to be intrusive on Madam Quincie and her plans, "I… I wasn't implying that you should, I was merely mentioning it in conver—"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Madam Quincie replied gently, wiping her hands on her apron, "Julia, you are now a member of this household, which means that you are invited to every party held in this house unless stated otherwise,"
Hermione looked into the faded blue eyes of the generous woman, and was reminded of her mother. Her mother, who used to look at her like that, sincere and loving. Her mother, who had no clue that she even had a daughter. Her mother, who was in Australia.
"Julia? Are you alright? You're crying," Madam Quincie asked, taking one of Hermione's hands in both of her weathered ones. She tugged them away, touching her face. When she removed it her fingers were wet with salty tears.
"I… thank you," The witch choked before turning and fleeing the room, memories of innocent days gone by swimming at the forefront of her mind.
X
Draco sighed, tapping his feet. He had arrived at the restaurant fashionably late, which was only about ten minutes into the date, and discovered that Lindsey was nowhere to be found. He'd asked the sour-looking hostess if she'd booked a table under that name and the woman had shook her head ruefully. So here he was, nearly an hour into the supposed-to-be date, and Draco was slowly drinking himself into a stupor. He took another careful sip of the drink, unsure of what he'd even ordered in the first place. He couldn't remember, and he didn't care to.
To be honest, Draco had never been stood up. It was quite an odd experience for him really, not having the woman of his choice drooling all over him. He had charm goddammit, and he wanted to use it! Instead he was sitting alone in a booth drinking his way into oblivion.
What a terrible way to waste an evening.
"If only father could see me now," The blonde spit out bitterly, finishing off the amber liquid in his glass. He slammed it onto the wood table, satisfied with the clunk that resounded about the nearly empty restaurant.
"Yeah, if only he could," A familiar voice spoke from above him. Draco glanced to the side, frowning when he realized who it was.
"Blaise. Thought you were supposed to be in good ol' Britian mate,"
The dark-skinned man shrugged carelessly, taking a seat across from his friend, "Well, I decided to come back. Britain's a mess that I do not need to be in right now. Besides, I wanted to see you,"
"Oh?" Draco responded, flagging over a waiter, "Get me another," He commanded, giving over the glass.
"What sort of news?" The blonde asked, after the waiter had left.
Blaise shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Draco took this as a bad sign, "The sort of news that will make you want to whip out your wand and hex me into the netherworld,"
Draco nodded slowly, motioning for Blaise to continue.
"Now that nearly all of the Death Eaters are in custody, we've only got a few that are still missing to round up. After good old Voldie was killed by Granger, many of them fled Malfoy Manor, knowing their fate would be Azkaban once the Aurors and the Order were tipped off that Voldemort was dead. Several of the Death Eaters the Order's still looking for are Nott Jr.," Draco shuddered, remembering Theo from school. He'd always been so quiet, "Crabbe Sr., Lestrange, you, though we don't really care too much because you were just a teenager when you started and went AWOL years ago, and… well, this is the one that you're going to kill me for… your father,"
Draco felt his jaw go slack. His madman, muggle-hater of a father was on the loose… The blonde wanted to throw up, shout, demand for more information, faint, scream and jump off a cliff at that moment. It was a feeling that was what Draco speculated getting hit with a train would feel like.
"Holy... Why? Why couldn't you round him up?" Draco hissed, leaning forward to glare at Blaise, "Of all the people…"
"That's not even the worse bit…" Blaise put up a poker face, something that he'd mastered at Hogwarts, "Word is that he's hunting down Granger for revenge,"
Draco groaned, slamming his head into the table. Several people glanced his way, but he ignored them. This was bad. A group of vengeful Death Eaters without rhyme or reason that were being led off track and into Brazil was different. But Draco's father was smart… smarter than many people speculated. And he knew how to manipulate people into telling him things.
"Shiiiiiiiiiiit," He groaned, releasing some of his anger into the expletive, "Why does this only ever happen to me?"
Blaise made a small noise in the back of his throat, "It's not you that it's happening to, Draco, it's Granger. You can hightail your way out of here if you'd like. I think I'd understand. That's what you did after the Battle of Hogwarts, didn't you? Ran away from your problems like a scared little girl—"
The blonde head shot up, the face attached twisted with fury, "Too far, Blaise. Shall we go into your personal problems? Daddy died years ago so you're left alone with mummy, who killed all of your precious step daddies, most of which were abusive in more ways than one—"
The Italian grabbed Draco's wrist, squeezing it so hard that the fingers attached lost blood flow, "You never did lose that snippy Slytherin edge of yours, did you Draco?" Blaise removed his hand from his friend's wrist, settling back into his seat.
Draco closed his eyes, thinking over what Blaise had said. He could still skip town at this point in time, run off to Canada or China or South Africa. He could leave Granger to her own devices. It did sound nice, no matter the strange friendship they'd developed over the New York trip. Draco would be free to do whatever he pleased, without fear of his father and the trouble he brought.
But with Granger there was Orion. Dear, precious Orion, with his Malfoy hair and Granger brains. The very thought of anyone hurting the boy made Draco's blood boil, white-hot anger surging through his veins. And if for that reason alone, he was not going to abandon them, Granger and Orion. They were a package deal.
They could all move somewhere else together, but their current situation was just fine. Draco had a steady job, as did Granger. They each had housing situations of their own, friends too, and it was difficult to leave that. Draco, knew, he'd done it once before.
Besides, they lived in a somewhat reclusive area, without interaction with other wizards, besides Blaise. They were safe… they were.
Not entirely convinced by his own thoughts, Draco responded vaguely to Blaise, "I'll be fine here, thanks,"
The Italian said nothing, eyebrows raised and lips pursed slightly. It was then that the drink arrived at last, which interrupted the stony silence that had fallen upon the pair.
X
"You've been a very bad boy, Orion,"
The scary man with long hair glared down at the boy, eyes squinting so nothing but the dark grey color was showing. Orion shivered, terrified.
"Sneaking into the library…" The man made a soft 'tut' noise with his tongue, "You don't deserve those books, you piece of halfblood filth. That's all you are, filth,"
Orion felt his chin begin to tremble, wishing that his mummy would come in and save him. He wanted his mummy.
"You little piece of shit," Orion's whole body was shaking now, "You are nothing,"
And Orion began to believe it. The way people were always mean to him meant he was unimportant, irrelevant. He was not worthy of love. The only person who loved him was mummy. Why didn't these people love him? Why did only mummy love him? Was he that bad, that no one wanted to be around him?
Slowly, the scary man removed his belt, approaching Orion with a cruel grin on his face. The child shrunk back into the corner of the dimly-lit room, burying his face in his hands.
"Pl-Please d-don't h-hurt m-me!" He stuttered, fear clenching his heart tight and holding it, "I'll do an-anything!"
The man's footsteps stopped. Then, slowly, he said, "Anything, huh? Well, I have a good job for you, boy,"
Orion glanced up. The man's face looked nearly inhuman now; twisted with disgust, "I need to write a letter to your mother that I think she will… enjoy reading, and I need your assistance. Stand!" He barked, and Orion did as he commanded.
"Now go sit at that desk," Orion did, sitting in the stiff wooden chair. His legs dangled high above the ground, but he resisted the urge to swing them about carelessly. This place, the dark place, was not a place for fun.
"I'll be back boy. Move and your punishment shall double,"
It could've been seconds or hours before the man came back. Orion couldn't keep track of time, and he was trying not to squirm too much. He'd get in trouble.
"Alright," The voice startled him. Orion watched as a piece of parchment and a quill were placed in front of him, "Now I want you to write these words on there, over and over. You want to learn so much, boy, learn what you are, you miserable child, learn your place in this world,"
Another, smaller piece of paper was set down. Orion read, somewhat slowly as he'd just learned recently, the words 'Halfblood Filth'. Orion picked up the quill, trying to stop his hand from shaking. The man would notice.
Thinking that the scary man had forgotten ink and would realize that once nothing was coming from the quill Orion began to trace out the letters. However, he realized that the shaky line of the 'H' did in fact appear. It was also red.
A sharp pain came from Orion's left hand. He gasped and glanced down. The skin was irritated there, a blotchy red.
"Continue," The scary man commanded sharply. Orion nodded and didn't stop until the man told him to. At that point his left hand was bleeding profusely and the parchment was full.
"We'll keep going tomorrow. Stay in here and think of what you've done," The scary man picked up the parchment and quill, leaving the room. With the door locked, Orion could not get out. Instead, he curled up on the stone-cold ground and sobbed.
Orion awoke, glancing about the darkened room. He shuddered, and pressed closer to his mommy. She was fitful, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks. The child reached up and brushed them away before cuddling up to her, shifting underneath the covers.
"I'll keep you safe, mommy," He whispered, before drifting into a dreamless slumber.
X
The Fourth of July dawned bright and early, with birds chirping and the sky a blessed blue hue. Hermione rolled over and stretched lazily, wanting nothing more than to settle back under the covers and sleep for several more hours. It was nearly eight thirty though and she needed to shower before getting breakfast. Orion was gone, but she knew he was reading in the study with Mr. Xaing, a habit that he'd picked up after their trip to New York.
She got dressed quickly in a T-shirt and jeans, walking down the steps calmly to the awaiting breakfast.
"Happy Fourth! Celebrating America's independence since 1776!" Mrs. Anderson exclaimed as soon as Hermione entered the kitchen. She smiled and rose a hand.
"Hear, hear! When your country separated from my country!"
Everyone was silent, staring intently at the arm Hermione had raised. She frowned and slowly lowered it, eyes flickering about the various boarders.
"It was just a joke," She muttered defensively, before moving to sit down.
"What was that on your arm?"
Oh.
The writing was older, not something that was thought about often. It was covered by other, newer scars, but the pale white writing was still highly visible.
Mudblood.
"Nothing… just a scar…" She assured swiftly, sitting next to Mrs. Anderson. The young woman looked ready to argue but the phone rang.
"Hello?" Madam Quincie answered, "Yes she's here but I doubt that… well, Benjamin, I doubt that she'll want to speak to… fine!" The woman had gotten herself in quite a huff, turning about and speaking in a curt tone, "Lucy, it's for you,"
Mrs. Anderson- Lucy, Hermione corrected herself- got up and took the telephone. She spoke in hushed tones to the person on the other line. People at the table began to talk again, picking up food and placing it on their plates. Hermione, however, was not hungry anymore.
Suddenly, a violent shout came from Mrs. Anderson across the room, "Well I don't want to spend time with you, you CHEATING BASTARD!" She slammed the phone down and rushed from the room, leaving another silent spell in her wake.
"Who…" Hermione turned to Madam Quincie, who was staring sympathetically after the young woman who'd fled the kitchen.
"We all have secrets, Julia," Madam Quincie stated gently, turning to her, "For instance your scars. Where did you get them? Or your nightmares, where do those originate? The fact that you and Evan have the same exact tattoo is another. But you don't need to answer those questions unless you want to. I asked Lucy and she told me. If she wants to tell you about her past, she will have to speak to you herself. They are not my secrets to tell,"
And with that, the old woman got up and went to the sliding glass doors, opening it.
"It's a great day for gardening. I do hope the strawberries taste ok, I picked them myself," She said pleasantly, stepping into the sunlight.
"She reminds me of Dumbledore… it's scary," Hermione mumbled to no one in particular.
X
Evening approached at a rapid pace. Draco, who'd arrived at Madam Quincie's Fourth of July party with Blaise, was incredibly bored. Blaise had broken away quickly, opting to go flirt with Mrs. Anderson, who looked very, very peeved off. Sasha, who'd been invited by Madam Quincie ("We need to make everyone who's new in town feel welcome, Evan!") was acting strange. She'd approached Draco at the beginning of the party, but had decided to take a smoke in the woods before the fireworks started. She had resurfaced from the trees half an hour later, and had been avoiding Draco ever since.
"Well good riddance," He muttered under his breath, staring at the brunette. She was mingling about with Blaise and Mrs. Anderson now, occasionally taking swigs of liquid from a flask.
Draco sighed, moving to sit in a lawn chair that had been set out. Someone plopped down next to him, and the blonde turned. Grey met brown.
"Hey Malfoy. Enjoying the wonderful food and lovely drinks?" Granger teased, holding up a plate with a hot dog drenched in ketchup and a red solo cup. Draco smirked and took a small sip of his water.
"What, back to last names? Should I be offended, Ms. Granger?"
The brunette rolled her eyes, picking the hot dog off her plate. She proceeded to take a huge bite of it, chewing vigorously.
"What I wouldn't give for tea and crumpets right now!" She said once the food was swallowed. Draco smirked, noticing that a single blob of ketchup remained on the edge of her mouth.
"Hey Granger, look at me?" She did curiously, an eyebrow quirked. Without asking permission, Draco reached out and swiped the ketchup off her cheek with his finger. Hermione looked mortified, her face flushing a light shade of pink. Draco, having nowhere to put the ketchup, stuck his finger in his mouth and swallowed.
"UGGG! That was on my MOUTH!" She pushed his shoulder playfully, earning a smile in return. The blonde quickly wiped it off his face, replacing it with a smirk instead.
"I'm aware, but as I did not want to ruin my shorts with a ketchup stain…" Draco gestured to his spotless jeans, "It was my only option you know,"
"Mummy, Madam Quincie's gonna start the fireworks soon!" Orion exclaimed, interrupting their conversation. The boy jumped into his mother's lap, disregarding the half empty plate that sat there. It went flying, hot dog and all, into the grass about five feet away.
"Sorry mummy," Orion whispered, hanging his head. Hermione, overwhelmed with laughter, nodded that it was ok.
Just then, the whining of a firecracker rising into the sky filled the air. It exploded into bursts of color, followed by popping sounds. Orion covered his ears, frowning.
Draco sat back, watching as the sky turned from a dusky blue to black. Fireworks lit up the skies, with colors ranging from white to blue. Many of the children were playing with sparklers, the tiny lights on the ends fizzling while waved in the air. For the first time in a while, Draco felt… light. Like he was a cloud, floating through the world without a care.
It felt nice.
The blonde felt his eyes slipping to the woman next to him. She wasn't looking back, instead she was talking to Orion while rapidly glancing at the sky. Granger's nose was slightly crooked. Her eyes were a bit large for her somewhat thin face. Her hair was just as unmanageable as ever. But in that moment, it didn't matter. What mattered was the way her deep, honey eyes would look at Orion with such a strong look of love that it made Draco's heart ache. Her smile would transform those hollow cheeks into a brilliant mess of dimples and soft-looking skin. Her legs would cross and uncross time and time again, ankles overlapping. And as he studied her, Draco realized something.
Hermione Granger was beautiful.