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 54
"Wrapped so Pretty"
Hermione stayed the night at the castle, but awoke bright and early the following morning. She had not slept well last night even though her bed was as comfortable as it had always been.
Hermione knew she couldn't leave without saying goodbye to Narcissa. Neither could she give in to her request to stay. She blinked her eyes and took big shuddering gulps of morning air, it was strangely filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee . . . bacon and was that waffles and maple. The castle still looked asleep, it was very early, the morning sun had not yet risen fully. As she reached the kitchen to her surprise she saw Mrs. Weasley through a crack in the doorway. Narcissa had sent an owl to her during the night, explaining the day before with Hermione and of her quarrel with Draco. She was sitting at the table carving and trimming a bowl of fresh strawberries. As Hermione watched the rhythmic motion of Mrs. Weasley hands with the paring knife, she wanted to take up a bowl beside her and slice the berries too. Slicing strawberries was a simple task, it didn't require thought, it hadn't been overly influence by anything magical or muggle. It was performed exactly the same way now that it had been hundreds of years ago. It suddenly seemed to her that to sit, pluck and slice those red, sweet strawberries would bring something solid into her life, all the women throughout history who'd survived the heartache of men, men who didn't love them back by finding these little small joys to help them carry on.
She bit her lip, then stepped inside. Molly turned her head upward. "Well, its about time, I was getting a bit lonely down here all by myself. Good morning dearie."
She sat down in a wooden chair next to Mrs. Weasley and regarded the bowl that rested on the table top, surrounded by spreaded copies of The Daily Prophet to collect the scraps. Each fruit sliced perfectly with love, and with such skill.
"Can I help?"
"Why sure you can my dear, but be careful not to waste any."
"All right." Her hands trembled as she took over Mrs. Weasley's paring knife and sat down before the bowl. With utmost concentration, she bent her head, pulled out another berry, and carefully sliced off the ends. Apparently she didn't take off too much because Mrs. Weasley didn't criticize, in fact she gave her a gentle kiss on top of her head and walked away. She let the ends of the berry drop onto the scrap paper and focused on slicing the fruit into bite-size pieces.
"Those are just a few I picked up from the market the other day. The ones Narcissa and I plan to grow will be a lot sweeter."
"I wish I were going to be here long enough to enjoy them." Her voice sounded almost normal. A little tone-less maybe. A shade tight. But almost normal.
"So do I dear, so do I."
Hermione didn't say anything. Instead, she picked up another strawberry, pushed her knife into the end, and sliced it off.
For the next few minutes she applied herself only to the bowl filled with redden, ripe berries, while Mrs. Weasley watched the bacon frying on the stovetop. But instead of bringing her peace, Mrs. Weasley's soft humming and the warmth of the morning kitchen, along with the peaceful repetition of these womanly tasks, made her defenses too complicated to keep in place, and they slowly crumbled.
A tear slipped over her bottom lid, trailed down her cheek, and splashed onto the bodice of her nightgown. Another one fell and then another. A shuddering little hiccup slipped out. She continued to slice the strawberries and stopped fighting her grief.
Mrs. Weasley watched as the morning sun rose a little higher, a bluebird flew by and then she followed the path of two squirrels into a tree. One of Hermione's tears dripped into the strawberries.
Mrs. Weasley began to hum softly under her breath ". . . Oh, come and stir my cauldron. And if you do it right. . ." Hermione finished the last strawberry, then search frantically through the bowl for one more, just in case she might have overlook any.
"To keep you warm tonight . . ." Mrs. Weasley reached into the pocket of the sweater she was wearing, drew out her wand and conjured Hermione a pink tissue, and handed it over. Hermione took it, blew her nose and began to speak. "I-I'm going to miss everyone here s-so much, Mrs. Weasley, but I can't stand it anymore, I have to leave, I don't know what else to do. H-he doesn't love me. All this time and he been lying to me."
Mrs. Weasley shook her head in disapproval. "How can you be so sure sweetheart."
Hermione gave her nose a blow.
"Draco may be a lot of things Hermione, some of them good, some of them bad. He has a lot of Lucius in him there no doubt about that, but he has a lot of his mother in him as well." Mrs. Weasley tapped at her own heart. "Right here," she said. "And Cissy, she loves deep, and once there, her love, her loyalty to those close to her heart. . . It's eternal, that's how I know he loves you. He is his mother's child, no matter how he fights it. You can't change what you truly are."
A new rush of unexpecting emotion hit her like someone had cast a spell. She had to get away, and she nearly knocked over the entire bowl of sliced berries as she stood.
"Wait a moment before you go running off, and upsetting that baby your holding, Merlin know's the way you're carrying on she's gonna look ever bit of her father."
Hermione did as she said, she stopped and stood still. Mrs. Weasley walked over closer to her. "You're a good person Hermione Malfoy, and your husband —he knows that."
"I don't think so."
"Sometimes a wife needs a little patience love."
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm not a real wife." she cried.
"Oh hush now —that's just nonsense, of course you are." Mrs. Weasley didn't have any words left to argue then Hermione started to cry harder. So she wrapped her into her arms as best she could with the roundness of the baby between them.
The breakfast proved to be surprisingly peaceful and very good. Despite all the complaints that Mrs. Weasley had given about the bacon burning, and the fact that she felt Hermione simply hadn't eaten enough for the sake of the baby. After she piled another helping of scrambled eggs onto Hermione's plate, they finished cleaning up. Suddenly out of nowhere Mr. Weasley appeared inside the fireplace. He stepped out from behind a wall of green flames, wearing his usually work attire and a rather oddly checkered bowler hat.
"Arthur, for heavens sake, you nearly gave us all a heart attack. Why aren't you at the Ministry?" asked Molly.
"I just wanted to check in and make sure ever things ok." he replied while he walked over and gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Oh that's sweet of you dear, well since you're here, come on then, have a seat and I fix you something to eat."
"Everything is alright, isn't it Hermione?" He asked looking over at the only other young witch in his life that he care for as much as he did his own daughter, Ginny.
Hermione smiled and nodded yes. He gave a fatherly warm smile back to her. "Good, good that's wonderful news. . . My you are a sight to be hold. I remember when Molly was-"
"-Arthur your waffle is getting cold dear." Molly glanced over to him and his forehead puckered and he shook his head and regarded his wife pleadingly. Molly understood the moment she saw him hide a letter behind his back. There was a long pause, Molly then suddenly grunted a mild disapproval to Hermione doing the dishes in her state, she quickly ushered her out of the kitchen leaving the room entirely to Arthur and Narcissa.
Molly's little fake escape didn't seem to satisfy Narcissa, because her expression grew fierce once Arthur pulled up a chair beside her.
"That's far enough Hermione dear."
She turned around and stopped dead in her step to see Mrs. Weasley prying her ear against a slight gap in the door. Time ticked by. And soon Hermione joined her. Kneeling just below. Narcissa's frown gradually eased and a puzzling look took its place. "I see. . . .is that so?" said Narcissa
Hermione was beginning to feel like an eavesdropper. But she smiled at hearing the things Arthur read from the letter, instantly she began feeling better for the first time all morning. "That's so romantic of him." she said looking up at Mrs. Weasley. "Doesn't sound much like Lucius Malfoy, does it?"
Mrs. Weasley gave a noncommittal shrug. "I guess for right now I'm reserving judgment about everything."
Narcissa's head lifted and she looked at the wobbling kitchen door. "Unless either of you have something to say, if you truly have to eavesdrop, the least you two could do is hush up!" she said a bit heated.
They hushed up.