The barrister then held out the slip of paper. " which brings us here," he said

"Where?" asked Petur

"Well the check of course. Miss Lavender has done her part, gathering the dirty little details and Mr. Weasley pitch in a tale or two, but the main killer, the shark behind the massacre was Miss Lavender Brown, a witch after my own heart, through and through. Now she simply needs to be paid."

Petur tighten both his fists. "Are you done?" he asked the blabbering attorney.

"Why yes — Yes I do believe that sums it all up."

"Good!" Petur reared back and knocked Ballimore out cold. The barrister flew eagle spread along the foyer floor. "Filthy, bloodsucking, vampire bastard!" he rubbed his knuckles to ease the pain, then looked at Draco. "Your turn." he said.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my imagination. I was inspired by another romance novel i read and J.K. Rowlings wonderful world. Enjoy!

Chapter 53

"Wrapped so Pretty"

Petur had no idea where the two had gone. Rather than running around wildly searching every known nook and cranny in Grindelwald Valley, he immediately found Emelie's parents. Together Petur, her mother and father sent out one of their very own elf's in search of their daughter.

Evening was rapidly approaching by the time he found Emelie and Hermione. The sun was setting, casting a dull and golden hew along Narcissa's kitchen floor. Petur, walked past the fireplace, where a cauldron was brewing and steaming away at tonight's supper. Over by the sink, a set of dirty pots had been enchanted to rinse, dry and store themselves into the cupboard. The conversation between the four of them: Hermione, Narcissa, Petur and Emelie was muddled with the constant clatter of skillets, and silverware beneath a running faucet.

"Look `ermione, it nev'r occurred to him that this Ballimore -v'atsaface vould take action against you vit'out his go ahead —that is all! — Vut it sounds as if you've already given up on him."

She should have felt better from what Petur was trying to explain to her, but she didn't. The only thing her heart kept asking her was why didn't he simply call off his dogs? In all this time, why didn't he do it? Was he afraid that maybe she hadn't told him everything, that she was holding some last minute scheme against him; she loved him and shared everything with him that she held dear in her life.

This time Narcissa spoke "Maybe Hermione dear it really did slip his mind. That Ballimore, has always been a nasty sort —Lucius is to blame for that, he'd always given that walking python full range to do whatever he wanted to do. Things were getting along beautifully with you two, and revenge honestly seemed liked the furthest thing from his mind." said Narcissa. She spoke from her heart about this matter, she truly believed that her son loved her, but something in the pit of her stomach couldn't help but feel afraid. She was weary with the idea, that her son could do something that was so like his father's way of doing things.

Hermione sat in a chair and rubbed her arms. They could have been talking to lump of coal and been better off. Her body was there but her mind was completely detached. She continued to rub her arms for warmth, but the chill she felt came from inside instead of outside. Finally she spoke, but it felt as if someone else was wording things for her. "I don't think we're going to be able to go back to the way things were." she said quietly.

"Sure you can sweetheart." Narcissa moved towards her and kneeled by her daughter-in-law. She stared into eyes lost of life and laughter. Eye's filled with anger, and pain that escaped her through tears and maybe, maybe even hate. Narcissa felt a chill as she neared her daughter. Her eyes looked a lot like her own that dreadful night she visited Severus pleading for his help. The very night she no longer knew her husband anymore, nor did she care for his love any longer. She didn't want that for Hermione, nor her son.

Hermione looked down at her, and Narcissa stared back, — there was nothing there, she could see it.

Then, Hermione looked away. She pushed her mother-in-laws hand away from her dress. She then stood and walked out of the kitchen, reminding herself that her worst fear had come to pass, and perhaps he hadn't been plotting against her at the same time she thought they had been so in love. whose to say. But, the awful knot in her stomach wouldn't go away.

Hermione squeezed her arms tightly, wishing for the warmth that was so absent in her now.

What had happened was merely a symbol of all the problems that lurked between the two of them, problems she'd chosen to ignore or gloss over as if their past did not exist, as if it had not mattered.

She remembered how hopeful she'd been only a few months earlier that he loved her. She remembered all the dream castles she'd built in her head. How ironic! She was a logical person, always so precautious and judgmental before granting anyone with her trust. She was never a girl of wishful thinking. But look at how Ron had hurt her in the end. . . . And now, now it was Draco turn to destroy the foolish girl in her head. She dug her fingernails into her palms. Her gaze turned back to Narcissa once again. "I don't think so," she said finally "Honestly the idea of ever trusting someone that way again scares me to death." Her voice caught there. Perhaps, she'd gained a bit of wisdom in the last few months, or maybe this act against her finally put her into place, of who she was and would always be, to him. Tears pushed at her eyes. "Mum, I'm afraid I can't handle this anymore, Draco, I didn't mean to fall in love with him —He never wanted any of this either —but it happened. It was destined to end, Draco wanted it that way. He never told you, he didn't want you to get hurt, to be disappointed when it all ended. We were to marry for the sake of the baby and for the sake of her name. After the birth, I was to go back to London. He wanted a me out of his life long before I ever became his wife. And he was so right, I had no right to concern you with our affairs. I regret it now" She licked her dry lips. "I'm going back to London." she said.

Petur shot his head up at that.

"No, NO Hermione you are not!" said Narcissa. "You're not going anywhere. Do you understand me."

"I'll contact you and Draco after the baby's born, but until then, I'd appreciate it if you'd both communicate with me by owl only or through the lawyer he's hired. I promise I won't make things difficult for him or for you, when you come for visits."

"You're running away?" Emelie glared at Hermione's backside, struggling to speak calmly. "You can't do that, its not fair to the baby, her home is here. She—belongs—here, surrounded by us, with people who will love her."

Draco had awoken on the foyer floor, the last thing he recalled was the first blow from Petur, the second one, he never saw coming, but it had done it. Now he lay here looking up at the mermaid fountain, her urn pouring water into her bath below. Tiny droplets of water would bounce back and hit against his eyelids every few moments or so. Hanging above the foyer, he tried to study the wedding-cake sized, crystal, chandelier. Its prisms and teardrops jewels blurred in and out of focus like lost fairies dancing about. The late evening sky was barely visible through the double doors, they had been left wide open.

His head was throbbing right at the temple. Without a word he got up to his feet. He noticed that the barrister was no longer there. He must have come to and departed long before Draco came to his senses, he wasn't sure. He didn't stand around looking for him either. Instead, he kicked the front doors closed, then turned and stalked into the kitchen, where he grabbed a bottle of scotch he'd stashed away. For a moment he looked at the diamond cut bottle and couldn't make up his mind whether to drink it or smash it against the wall. He be dammed if he'd just let her walk in and out on him this way.

He wrenched off the cap and tilted the bottle to his lips. The scotch burned all the way down. The liquor hit a break of flesh on his lips and it stung like hell. He dashed the back of his hands across his lips.

The Scotch warmed the emptiness he'd been feeling in his stomach. But instead of feeling better, he wanted to throw back his head and howl. He took a deeper swallow. He gave her more than he'd ever given any woman —His hand clenched around the bottle. What did he plan to do, drag her back here kicking and screaming. Pain swelled in his chest against the reasoning forming in his head. There were a lot of witches out there, young, pretty, women who didn't want to rush into parenthood. Witches that would do what he said and then just leave him alone. That was all he wanted, didn't he? Someone fun and beautiful who'd love him and then leave him alone, alone to live his life out.

He took another swig, then turned and headed to his study where he set about the business of getting seriously drunk.