Saturday, 13 June 2009
After Draco left Hermione's room, he slowly made his way to his office. As he navigated the halls, it suddenly dawned on him the real reason why the elves had begun leaving gifts out for him all those months ago. He smiled thinking back to the days of his promotion.
Draco stepped from the foyer fireplace of Malfoy Manor. A smile graced his features as he brushed the soot from his clothing. He had just left work and wanted the first people he shared his good news with to be his parents. After many years of medical school and rigorous residency, almost ten years total of hard work and research, including his time spent helping with the post-war baby boom, and numerous recommendations from patients whose children he had been able to save when they were almost lost, he had received the promotion to Assistant Head of the Obstetrics Department at Saint Mungo's.
The young wizard made his way across the foyer towards the hall when he was stopped by a small voice ringing out through the room. "Master Draco, congratulations! I's happy to see you."
He looked to his right to see the youngest of his parent's house-elves. Her hands were clasped together in front of her as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Draco didn't miss the watery look she was giving him or the grin that lit up her face.
Confusion replaced the smile that had once been on his own face. "Thank you, Addie," he replied, although it sounded more like a question. "Do you, uh, do you know where my parents are?"
"You is welcome, Master Draco. Your parents is in the library." Addie bowed before quickly disappearing from the foyer.
Draco stared at the spot where Addie had been for a moment, before he shook his head and walked out the door into the hall. As Draco made his way toward the library he was surprised when a second elf congratulated him and multiple ancestors smiled at him from their portraits. Many people believed all Malfoys were like his grandfather, Abraxas, who willingly joined Voldemort and then dragged his own son into the mix, but Draco knew otherwise. Yes, most, if not all, Malfoys thought themselves better because of their purer heritage, but they did not feel the need to kill those they thought beneath them. They could be of some use after all. There were even a couple ancestors who chose to spice up the gene pool, by marrying a half-blood.
Draco was only one corridor away from the library when he was stopped by one of his ancestors.
"Young Draco," Emeric Drogo Malfoy murmured as Draco neared his portrait. After Draco stopped in the corridor, the portrait regarded his young protégé thoughtfully for a moment. Emeric was always surprised by how much the younger wizard looked like himself and his son when they were his age, even though almost one thousand years had passed.
"Good evening Grandfather Emeric, how are you doing?"
"I am well, Draco, and how many times must I remind you, there is no need to call me Grandfather? I am not like your lichieres pautonnier* of a grandfather who decided to join that megalomaniac, Voldemort."
Before Draco could respond, a young woman stepped into Emeric's portrait, placing a hand on his forearm. "Oh Papa, you tell Draco every time you speak with him to not call you Grandfather, but the impeccable manners he learned from his mother will dictate that he ignore you." She smirked and winked at Draco. "Just like I used to do."
Draco smiled and bowed to the young woman. "Aunt Emeny, it is always a pleasure seeing your smiling face gracing these halls."
Emeny Rosalind Malfoy Talbot curtsied, returning Draco's smile. "Nephew, the pleasure is all mine."
Draco always found Emeny to be an interesting ancestor to speak with. She was very open-minded, even more so than her father, and the young wizard she had ended up marrying, Giradin Talbot, reminded him quite a bit of his best mate, Blaise. Draco had been unhappy to learn that about five hundred years after Emeny married Giradin, the pure-blood Talbot line had died out.
"Are you two quite done?" On anyone else, the frown marring Emeric's face would have been called a pout, but Emeric Drogo Malfoy did not pout. Ever.
Emeny giggled, sharing another look with her nephew, who chuckled in response. "Yes, Papa, we are done."
Draco could have sworn he heard her mutter 'spoilsport' under her breath, but his long deceased aunt would never use such a word. Right? One look at the impish grin gracing her features and the glare Emeric was sending to his only daughter told Draco that she very well may have said it.
Emeny smiled innocently at her father. "Please Papa, what did you want to say to Draco?"
Emeric's frown melted when faced with his daughter's brilliant smile. "What am I going to do with you, my Emeny?" Shaking his head, he turned to Draco. "Young Draco, I stopped you to extend my blessings to you."
"Oh yes, congratulations, Draco. I was so delighted when I heard the news!"
"You were? But how do the elves and portraits already know?"
Emeny smiled mischievously. "We Malfoy ancestors know everything that goes on in the family and the same can be said for the elves. They are here to protect the family after all."
"Oh, well, thank you Gran…" Draco quickly rephrased himself when Emeric raised an eyebrow, "I mean thank you Emeric and Aunt Emeny. I'm still not sure how the elves and portraits found out before I even told my parents, but I thank you for your well wishes nonetheless."
Emeny waved Draco on down the hall. "You must tell your parents, they will be most happy with your news!"
Draco nodded and after waving goodbye to the occupants of Emeric Malfoy's portrait, he made his way around the corner and into the library where he informed his parents of his promotion at St. Mungo's.
As expected, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were happy to hear about Draco's promotion, although years before, when he first told his parents of his desired career path they had protested. They questioned his motives for choosing such a profession, thinking that his choice was based solely on the losses of his siblings his parents had before and after he was born. Draco agreed that part of his decision was rooted in the loss of his siblings, but there was a second reason behind his choice.
One evening during the war, rather than going to St. Mungo's for fear of being arrested, a young Death Eater's wife appeared at Malfoy Manor, after she went into labour in the middle of a revel. Draco still found it amusing that while the Death Eater's wife had come to his mother specifically for help, it had been Draco that had done most of the work. Narcissa had taken on the role of a birth coach and occasionally using a pain relieving charm when the young witch required it, since she did not want to get messy. She could be a bit neurotic about having clean hands sometimes.
After Draco had shared the good news with his parents, he made his way back to the reception hall to floo home. He'd made plans with friends and co-workers to celebrate his promotion. As Draco entered the reception hall, he noticed a small box on the mantelpiece addressed to him. Upon opening the box, he was dumbfounded to see the rattle he used as an infant sitting in the box. Confused as to why the elves would leave his old rattle for him, he decided it would be better not to question the elves, besides which it would blend perfectly in his new office among the other baby paraphernalia he displayed. He was an Obstetrical Healer, after all.
His decision to keep the rattle made, Draco closed the box, grabbed a pinch of floo power, and left his parents' home.
He originally thought he was receiving the gifts because of his job, but he now realised that they were most likely because Nouna's magic already recognised Elysia and Marcus as Malfoys.
Draco shuddered—he really hoped Hermione would decide to change their son's name, because there was no way that he would be comfortable with a Malfoy ever bearing the name Marcus Richard. He'd had enough of dealing with Marcuses after his former housemate and Quidditch team captain made his life a living hell during the war. Flint had been nearly as sadistic as Voldemort. Besides which, Marcus Richard was such a plain and boring name, and Malfoys were anything but plain and boring.
It wasn't for lack of trying on his part to persuade her to change it prior to the twins being born. He remembered the night she asked his opinion on baby names; it was the same evening, a month ago, that she'd finally agreed to go on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. During their discussion, Draco voiced his surprise when she didn't choose something in a similar vein to what she was thinking of doing for her daughter's name. Hermione laughed replying that even Ginny thought the name was somewhat unoriginal. But she liked it and since there wasn't a father involved in the process, she would go with the names she liked. Draco tried a second time to persuade her during her last check up a week ago at her home, but once she decided on something, the stubborn witch wouldn't be swayed.
He chuckled remembering their reactions to some of the names, but Draco's favourite reaction of Hermione's was when he jokingly suggested Opal. She sent him a death glare, saying that under no circumstances would she name her child after a stone. Draco retaliated by questioning her choice of Leander. Her responding smirk and, 'because calling my son a name that means lion man would piss you off,' comment reminded Draco just how Slytherin the brunette witch could be.
Draco entered his office, ignoring his least favourite portrait, and took a seat at his desk.
The unexpected situation with Hermione was going to be difficult to explain to the world. Yes, after his short conversation with Pansy about it recently, he was feeling a little better about the whole thing. However, Draco knew that the other conversations awaiting him (which currently weighed heavily on his mind) couldn't be put off, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable they might be, and so he mulled them over.
A floo call was very informal and quite rude as far as Draco was concerned, but just flooing straight into their home or Apparating over were out of the question, too.
He pulled out a piece of parchment and picking up a quill from his desk, he began writing.
*A French insult meaning 'wicked/evil doer'.