Author's Note: I'm sorry, I know I said there wouldn't be another one of these, but I wanted to send a quick thank you to those who corrected my positively idiotic mistake of calling her a baroness and not a governess. I SWEAR I really do know the difference. I wrote that first chapter a little too late at night apparently... Sorry guys! It's fixed in this chapter and as soon as I upload it I'm going through and fixing chapter one.

Chapter Two

The Hard Way

The dining room wasn't fair from the main foyer – only a turn to the left and a short way down the hall. The décor, like the rest of the house, was exquisite. A long mahogany table set for fourteen was of course the centerpiece of the room, with a crystal chandelier hanging above it at either end. A fireplace decorated the wall facing the door, and various sculptures loomed in the corners.

Draco and Scorpius were already seated at the table but did not yet have food in front of them.

"I trust you found your room acceptable?" Draco asked.

"Oh, yes, absolutely!" Hermione gushed. "It's positively wonderful!"

"Good," he said. "Please, sit down," he said, motioning to the chair to his left. He was seated at the head of the table, with Scorpius sitting on his right hand side.

He watched her as she daintily placed herself on the chair. He knew she must feel terribly awkward and out of place, but that would fade in time. She looked better than he'd remembered her from school – but then, most women did look far better at 25 than 16. Her skin tone was richer, she wasn't as pallid, and her features had matured to make her look a few years older than she actually was. Her hair was still in the uptight bun like it was when she'd arrived… it was extremely unsettling for him, as he was used to her hair being down and all over the place. To him, her hair being up was just another mark of how out of place and nervous she was.

"Lunch for the lady and gentlemen," came Dmitry's voice – or was it Davius? – as both Orhommes appeared in the room carrying a tray each – one with covered bowls, the other with covered plates.

"First," said the one with the tray of plates, "Une salade niçoise, pas d'anchois, bein sûr." He placed a dish first in front of Hermione, then in front of Draco and Scorpius, uncovering each as he went. Draco had never understood their French jargon but everything they served was always good, so he never complained. Either way, what had been placed in front of him was clearly a salad, and he vaguely remembered having seen them serve it several times before. He recognized the strange, spiky lettuce.

"Second," said the one with the tray of bowls, "A creamy and hearty oyster stew."

Draco was thankful that the second actually spoke English, though he certainly knew an oyster stew when he saw one. Again, they placed it in front of Hermione first and then gave it to Draco and Scorpius, uncovering each.

"Bon appétit!" the two men said in unison, and then disappeared, taking their trays with them.

Hermione was examining her salad carefully.

"Something wrong?" Draco asked, before starting on his own.

"It's just a shame they left the anchovies out…" she started. She was answered by a loud "Yuck!" from Scorpius.

"I'm sorry?" Draco asked.

"Well when he brought it out, he said that of course they left off the anchovies, like it was something you asked them to do every time. Anyway, a salade niçoise traditionally is topped with anchovies, but I can understand that Scorpius wouldn't like it that way."

"So you know French, then?" Draco asked.

"Of course. I spent many summers in France with my parents."

"I think I'd like you to spend some time teaching the basics of the language to Scorpius," Draco stated. Learning a second language was best done young, he knew, and he wanted his son as cultured as possible.

Hermione made a mental note to incorporate French into Scorpius's studies a few days of the week.

Lunch passed without much event, but when they were finished Draco dismissed Scorpius from the room but asked Hermione to stay.

"You seem uncomfortable, Hermione."

"I… well, I mean, I'm in a new place, and I've only just met Scorpius, and I haven't seen or heard very much from you in eight years until recently…"

"I understand that, but you are governess of Malfoy Manor now. You will have to adjust quickly. If you have any concerns, just ask me," he said. His words weren't very comforting. Draco, she noticed, was still as harsh as always. His speech just lacked insults, now.

"Right, of course." She paused. "Draco, if you don't mind my asking…"

"Why does Scorpius not have a mother?" he finished. She guessed he got the inquiry a lot.

"Well, yes, though I'd planned on wording it a bit differently…"

Draco was silent for a moment.

"His mother was a girl I met shortly after the war ended. We began seeing each other and soon became serious. I intended to make her my wife, but when she found out she was pregnant she demanded we wait to marry until after she carried the child to term. Once she had Scorpius, however, she was stricken with an extreme case of postpartum depression."

"Oh, how awful…"

"Let me finish," he snipped.

"Of course, sorry." Hermione feared the story got no better from here.

"She became quite unlike herself. Her magical power decreased by the hour and every day she lost physical strength. The Healers believed that having the child had broken some sort of magical bond within her core – they didn't know what would happen, as such a case had never been seen before in a wizarding birth from two healthy and moderately magically powerful parents."

He paused. Hermione waited, not wanting to interrupt again.

"She lasted about six weeks after Scorpius was born. She died in her sleep at St. Mungo's. I was informed the following morning by a personal visit from a Healer. We had her body cremated. Her ashes are buried in the Malfoy cemetery on the grounds. Though we never married, she is the mother of a Malfoy child, and thus she is a part of the lineage."

Once she was certain he was finished, she asked, "Draco… what was her name?"

He paused, and didn't meet her eyes when he answered, "Isabella." He seemed visibly pained, still, at her loss and she regretted bringing the topic up at all.

"Does Scorpius…"

"No. He has no recollection at all of his mother and does not even ask about her."

Hermione couldn't get over the tragedy of it all. Ten years ago she would have said Draco Malfoy deserved nothing less than such heartbreak and perhaps even moreso. She had grown up since then, though, and seeing the suffering he surely must have gone through was painful for her to watch.

Malfoy must have sensed this because he stood up abruptly.

"I have to be travelling for the next few days. I shouldn't be gone more than three days. I'll be home by Friday at noon at the latest."

Hermione couldn't help herself. "But where are you going?"

His eyes hardened a little as he looked at her.

"Hermione, you are my governess, not my wife. Where I go and why I am there is not your business."

"Right, of course, my apologies…"

"Are not necessary." He paused. "Keep an eye on Scorpius while you are not actively engaged in teaching him. His magical power grows stronger by the day and he has a difficult time controlling it."

"Certainly," she answered.

"Dmitry and Davius can answer any questions you will have until my return. Should you need me, there are several owls kept in an owlery in the attic. They will know how to find me."

"Of course."

"I will be leaving within the hour. Find Scorpius and check on him regularly. I shall see you when I return."

And with that, he strode out of the room and was gone, leaving Hermione sitting alone at the table.

Dmitry and Davius appeared suddenly in the room, bringing some of their golden mist with them and scaring Hermione half out of her wits. She jumped to her feet and stared at them, breathing heavily.

"We do apologize, madam, our intention was not to scare!" said the first, smiling brightly.

"Is everyone all finished?" asked the second.

"Yes… yes, we're quite done…" said Hermione, still reeling a little.

"Right-o, then!" exclaimed the first, and they loaded the dishes onto the same trays they had disappeared with earlier as quick as a flash and then disappeared to, Hermione assumed, the kitchen.

Curious creatures, truly…

A homenum revelio spell showed Hermione that Scorpius was outside in the back gardens. It was there that she found him, oddly, chasing after a rabbit. She watched, amused, for a moment or two until she realized that something was amiss. She looked more carefully and noticed that, every few moments, the rabbit would freeze in place and Scorpius would catch up to it and pounce on it, poking and prodding it mercilessly, and then suddenly the rabbit would be free again and Scorpius would dash after it, laughing. Hermione, remembering what Draco had told her about Scorpius's magical ability and acting on her hatred for cruelty to animals, pulled out her wand as she ran over to where Scorpius was playing. By the time she got there Scorpius had frozen the rabbit again.

"Finite Incantatem," she said calmly, and she grabbed Scorpius by the elbow and watched the poor rabbit hop away to freedom. Scorpius squirmed in her grasp.

"Let me go!" he cried.

"Not yet," said Hermione, and she kneeled down to be on eye level with him and turned him to face her.

"I was only having fun!"

"I know you were, Scorpius, but you must listen to me."

"I only have to listen to my father!" he shouted.

"Not any more, Scorpius. I'm sure your father explained to you that I am to be your governess now."

"You're not my mother…" he grumbled.

"I know I'm not, but the governess of a house doesn't have to be your mother. Your father has put you in my care, thus it is his decision. I am, therefore, an extension of your father's authority and you must listen to me."

Scorpius was silent and refused to look at her, instead examining his shoes as he toed the ground.

"Your father is going away for a few days—"

"Again!" Scorpius cried, his head snapping up to look at her. He was clearly upset at this news.

"Does he travel often?" Hermione asked him, taking the risk of letting his arm go.

"All the time… he's never home…" Hermione wasn't happy that Scorpius's countenance was becoming gloomy, but at least it was better than obstinance.

"Where does he go?"

"How should I know, he never tells me anything," Scorpius snapped, unhappy with this lack of knowledge. "All I know is he sends me to Grandmama's when he leaves, and I hate it there!"

Draco had told Hermione that Scorpius was to be in her care all the time, so she knew that Scorpius's trips to Draco's mother's house were at an end. She knew that Narcissa had moved out of Malfoy Manor after Draco's father died and left the place to Draco, but she didn't know where she'd moved to.

"Well, I have some good news for you, Scorpius."

"What?" he asked, still sullen.

"You're not going to Grandmama's house this time."

"I'm not?" he asked, his face hopeful.

"Nope. You're staying here with me. You'll never have to go to Grandmama's again while I'm here." She smiled at him and he gave her a nervous smile back.

Well, even if he was only happy because anyone was probably better than Narcissa, she'd take what she could get.

"Un… deux… trois… quatre… six…"

"No, no, cinq comes after quatre. Try again."

The day after Draco had left Hermione had spent some time teaching Scorpius the French alphabet after they'd finished his other studies. Today, she was teaching him to count to ten. They were sitting in what Draco had made Scorpius's school room. There was a chalkboard on one side with a few pieces of everlasting chalk, a small chair with an equally small desk for Scorpius to write on, and a larger desk for Hermione. Right now, however, they were sitting cross-legged on the floor facing each other.

"Un… deux… trois… quatre… cinq… six… sept…" he paused. "Erm… sept…"

"Huit," Hermione supplied.

"Sept… huit… neuf… dix!" He finished, beaming.

"You're still a little rough, but we're getting there!" Hermione said.

"Can I try again?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Okay." He took a deep breath, then started counting a bit faster than he had been before. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix!"

"Excellent!" Hermione cried, beaming. "You're pretty good at this. Let's see if you can still do that tomorrow." She looked at her watch. "It's almost twelve! Are you hungry?"

Scorpius nodded vigorously.

"Good, because Dmitry and Davius will be serving lunch any moment!"

Scorpius's countenance brightened considerably.

"I'll race you to the dining room!" Hermione said, getting to her feet.

"Okay!" Scorpius said, and before Hermione was even standing straight he dashed off. She laughed and ran after him. Now that she'd been here a few days she felt comfortable in dressing more casually. Today she was in a simple pair of jeans and a button down cotton blouse. Scorpius had asked her why she didn't dress like his father and she had explained that she and his father held very different positions in life and that his father was someone very important, so he had to dress nice and in his flowing robes all the time.

She had been guessing entirely, of course, but Scorpius had accepted her answer.

He was still a bit of a troublemaker but he was warming up to her quickly. She was sure that Draco was rather cold and harsh with him – did Draco know how to be anything else? – and so it was quite welcoming for Scorpius to have someone looking after him who was willing to laugh and smile and play and make jokes.

Lunch ended up being chicken noodle soup with home-baked bread. With Draco gone, Dmitry and Davius seemed to be catering the menu choices more to Scorpius's taste. At such a young age it was difficult for Scorpius to eat all the rich and decadent food that Draco preferred. Though they were still just as odd, and still had the gleaming golden skin clothed in tuxedos, Hermione was beginning to get used to and even grow fond of the two Orhommes. They seemed to be permanently elated and were eager to do anything to please their master.

Although she hated to admit it, Hermione thought she could definitely get used to living at Malfoy Manor in the lap of luxury.

The rest of the day passed without much event (Scorpius didn't manage to catch any more rabbits) aside from the sky darkening gradually with storm clouds. It was in the thick of spring and Hermione knew that heavy thunderstorms were going to be part of the norm so she wasn't too bothered. Night had just fallen over Malfoy Manor that Thursday evening at 7:45 when Hermione and Scorpius were in his room together. He was practicing his reading with a large-print children's version of the Tales of Beedle The Bard. He had just finished struggling through Babbity Rabbity when Hermione smiled at him and took the book.

"But I don't want to go to sleep yet, Hermione!" he protested.

"I know you don't, but it's almost eight o'clock and you know the rules! Don't you want to be well rested for your lessons tomorrow?"

"No!"

A typical five-year-old answer…

"Well that's a shame, because I want you to be well rested, and I certainly want to be well rested, and that means we both need to get to bed!"

"Just five more minutes?"

"That's what you said before we started reading Babbilty Rabbity and that ended up giving you fifteen minutes!"

"So?" he smiled. She returned the grin but stood her ground.

"No, Scorpius, it's bedtime."

He huffed. "Fine…"

Hermione pulled the covers up to his shoulders. "Good night, handsome. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow morning. I heard a rumor that Dmitry and Davius are making chocolate chip pancakes!"

Scorpius's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really, but the sooner you go to sleep the sooner you'll wake up to have them!"

"Okay!" he said, and immediately flopped down onto the pillow and closed his eyes. Hermione smiled to herself and stepped out of the room, whispering "Nox" as she went. Once she was a safe distance from Scorpius's room she called for Dmitry and he appeared in front of her.

"Yes, madam?"

She had no idea if it was really Dmitry or if it was Davius – she had no clue how to tell them apart – but she assumed the correct one had come and went on with her request.

"May I put in a suggestion for breakfast?"

"Certainly, madam."

"Scorpius would positively love it if you made chocolate chip pancakes in the morning."

"Absolutely madam. Breakfast is at eight!" And he disappeared.

Yes, she could definitely get used to this…

Hermione had been lying in bed reading when the looming storm struck with a vengeance. She could hardly read two sentences between each loud clap of thunder and the startling flashes of lightning. She was only a few moments from resigning herself to figuring out how to reverse a silencing charm so that it prevented sound from coming in rather than going out when she heard a frantic knocking on her bedroom door. She immediately got out of bed and opened the door to find Scorpius there in his black silk pajamas looking positively terrified.

"Scorpius! What are you doing out of bed?" she asked.

"Hermione, I'm scared…" he said. She'd never seen the conniving child look so vulnerable.

"Oh, dear, do you not like thunderstorms?" she asked. He vigorously shook his head no and jumped forward when he heard another clap of thunder and wrapped his arms tightly around her legs. Her heart melted and she lifted him up off the ground.

"Here, I bet I can make you smile…" she said, and tossed him gently onto her bed and she jumped onto it with him in her nightdress.

"Have you ever had a pillow fight before?" she smiled.

"A what?"

"I guess not… well here's how you do it…" she said, and took one of the small decorative pillows from the bed and lightly tapped Scorpius on the head with it.

"Hey!" he cried, and he grabbed another, larger, pillow and swung it at her but she jumped backwards off the bed and it missed.

"Come get me!" she said, and Scorpius jumped off the bed and ran after her, managing to hit her with the pillow every so often. Hermione would stretch back and use her small pillow to hit him on the shoulder or the arm every so often but she let him think he was winning. Soon the room was filled with feathers and their laughter in the air and neither of them even noticed the thunder anymore.

Dmitry and Davius met Draco in the foyer, helping him out of his rain-soaked cloak and taking his bags from him.

"Have a good trip?" beamed the first.

"Splendid," Draco said dryly.

"We do apologize for the rain…" said the second.

"Not your fault," replied Draco, his words short.

"Your bags will be waiting in your room sir!" said the first, and he disappeared with them.

"Do you require dinner, sir?" asked the second.

"No thanks, I'm fine."

"Call if you need anything, sir," he finished, and he, too disappeared and left Draco alone in the foyer. He sighed heavily and made his way up the staircase with the intention of heading to his room in the east wing. However, he paused when he reached the landing. He could swear he could hear the faint sound of laughter coming from the west wing…

Too suspicious and curious not to investigate, despite his irritability and fatigue, he strode down the hallway of the west wing and opened the door of Hermione's quarters to find…

…absolute disaster.

Hermione and Scorpius were running about the room like lunatics, laughing and yelling and carrying on, with pillows in their hands – and they appeared to be beating each other with them…

"What is this!" demanded Draco, and Hermione and Scorpius froze where they stood and turned to look at Draco.

"We're having a pillow fight, Father!" Scorpius explained, beaming, and obviously not sensing his father's anger the way Hermione did.

"Hermione."

"Yes, Draco…" she answered softly.

"Are you aware of the time?"

Hermione glanced at her bedside clock.

"It's 10:30, Draco."

"And when is Scorpius supposed to be in bed?"

"I had him in bed at 7:30 but—"

"When, Hermione."

"8:00, Draco."

Scorpius was now sensing the danger in the room.

"I'm sorry, Father, I heard the thunder and—"

"Scorpius, get to bed. It's already late. You and I will talk in the morning."

"Yes, Father."

And he disappeared as quick as he'd come.

"Draco, please understand… I had him in bed at 7:30, truly, but when the storm came he was frightened and came to me for comfort…"

"You should have sent him straight back to bed."

Hermione knew it was no good to argue.

"Yes, I should have. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Good. Good night, Hermione. I will see you at breakfast in the morning."

He shut the door a little too loudly behind him.

Hermione sighed and sank down onto her bed and surveyed the mess of her room. She pulled out her wand and muttered a few quick spells to repair the damage and then, exhausted, sank down onto the quilt and fell asleep right on top of the covers.