He shifted his weight again, trying to push forth, he swallowed hard. "Well, to be honest, I've gotten myself into a horrible state and lost my wife. Our marriage was on the rocks. I've been pretty depressed about it, and instead of taking to the bottle. I thought it might help me if I found someone to help lift my spirits. . . A companion. . .a female, a female friend companion. He drew a deep breath. "I heard in town that there was a nice lady living up here, and I thought maybe I'd stop by and see if that madam would be so kind at to accompany me to dinner some time. Or anywhere, what ever you wanted would be just fine with me." A flicker of amusement caught at the corner of his mouth. "That is of course if you're accepting of dating a married man."
He laughed lightly. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
Behind an open window Hermione's heart overflowed with joy for them, yet at the same time it shattered all over again, when she realized that his visit had not been influenced by Draco. That his reason for arriving had nothing to do with his son. She closed the window then, and gave the two their privacy as she returned to her room.
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 56
"Wrapped so Pretty"
A lump caught in his throat. "Yes, Ma'am. Forgive me, but I'm a bit rusty at courtships. So I hope I'm going about this in a respectful way."
She pressed her fingers to her lips, and her heart swelled. During their last meeting, at the Damengletscher's Resort. She told him she wished they could meet again as strangers so they could start all over to see if they liked each other, but he'd been so angry at the time, that she hadn't thought he even heard her. After all these years, she had never imagined that he could still surprise her, but he just had.
She resisted the urge to throw herself in his arms and tell him all was forgiven. She didn't hold herself so cheaply that this small bit of effort on his part, as much as it warmed her heart, could erase decades of not being good enough. She wondered how far he was willing to go.
"We may not be compatible," she replied.
"Maybe not. But we'd never know unless we give it a try.
"I don't know. My daughter is here with me. She may not approve."
"Just leave that to me." he said. "I have a son, —he's a bit mean, and a little crazy at times. Kids enjoy play-dates, don't they? We could arrange one and see what happens!"
She nearly laughed. Imagine stubborn, humorless Lucius Malfoy doing something so romantic and with a playful sense of humor. She was charmed and touched, but not completely. Something saddened her, and it took a moment to figure out what. She'd spent most of her life feeling like a beggar for his affections—always agreeable, never argumentative, always the one to make concessions and appease. He never had to put himself out for her love because she'd never made any demands. She never put a single roadblock in his way, and now she was getting ready to run back to him just because he made this one small effort to please her.
She could still remember the fell of his randy teenager's hands on her. Those first few times they'd had sex, she hadn't liked it very much, but it had never occurred to her to say no to him, even thought she would rather have been sitting some where with Molly sharing a butterbeer. Suddenly something more crossed her mind. How he'd hurt her the night he took her virginity. She knew he hadn't intended to deliberately, but he was rough, and it had hurt nonetheless.
"I'll think about it," she said quietly. Then she told him goodnight, turned and went back inside.
For an entire week, Draco stayed locked in his home and away from everyone. For the first three or so days he got drunk three times in a row and took a swing at Petur, who refused his demands to get the hell out of his house. Towards the end of the week he started to go after her half a dozen times, but his pride wouldn't let him. He wasn't the one who'd run off with out given him a chance to defend his side of the story.
He also had to face the fact that he wasn't so sure that those stubborn witches would allow him near her. From what Petur had told him his mother, Emelie, and Mrs. Weasley of all people, were all very upset with the way he'd upset her. Apparently the only men welcome there was Mr. Weasley, who sure as hell didn't count in his book and Petur. Draco was seething at the idea of Petur dropping by his mother's place whenever he pleased, being fed and pampered. How had this kid, moved into Draco's spot, taken over both his career and his family life.
The first night Draco had gotten drunk, it was at Emelie's, brother's pub. Petur had swiped his wand so that he wouldn't try apparating while wasted, as if Draco weren't smart enough to have already figured out he wasn't in any condition to use magic. If he had tried to apparate from the pub, and back home, he could have arrived with an entire leg or arm missing. Next thing he knew he was slumped over Petur's toilet bowl, yakking his guts out. Later Petur was the one to see him home safely, and he hadn't been able to get rid of him since.
He was pretty sure he hadn't told Petur he could stay. As a matter of fact, he distinctly remembered ordering him out of his house. But Petur had stuck around like a damned watchdog, even though he dad a perfectly good rental. Not to mention Emelie was there most nights waiting for him. The next thing Draco knew they where flipping through old game shots that Draco had collected over the years. And he was showing Petur how he always went for his first option instead of being patient when searching for the snitch, reading the defense in the height of the game, and finding the perfect opening when the other team's seeker is hot on your ass.
At least flipping through his game books and old newspaper collections with the Bulgarian kept his mind off the fact that he missed Hermione so badly his loins ached at night from the scent of her pillow. But he wasn't any closer to deciding what he really wanted. He didn't want to end up like Blaise, so blinded by a witch that he tossed his Quidditch career out the window. Especially when he had no other sensible life's work waiting to take its place. But he also wasn't ready to lose Hermione, and didn't think he could ever be ready for that.
She wanted him to come crawling on his hands and knees, fighting like some wild dog with everyone until she came back home. That was unthinkable. He didn't crawl for any witch. What he needed was a way, and a reason to go there, and once she saw him, then maybe she realized that she missed him too, and she'd come leaping into his arms.
He still didn't understand why she'd stayed around instead of moving back to her home in London, like Petur had said she wanted to do. But he was glad it had happened. Since it was giving her time to come to her senses. He knew how much she loved him, and maybe today was the day that she'd be woman enough to admit she'd gone berserk without giving him a chance to explain and apologize.
Week Two. . .Day one. . .
The door chimes sounded, but he wasn't in the mood for company. He'd given his house elves instructions to cancel all visitors unless they where Hermione. When they fixed him supper and left it there for him in his study, he ignored the platter until they took it away. Even Lucky Leprechaun's had lost their appeal —they held too many painful memories. He substituted with eating the occasional tuna sandwich. Hermione always said they were better for him, for some reason; he couldn't recall.
Day two. . .
He hadn't been sleeping too well either, most of his nights were here, in the study and on the couch. The scent of her pillow was too much for him now, and the fragrant scent of her soap bars haunted him from their bathroom, even with the doors closed.
Day three. . .
He rubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw and tried to remember how long it had been since he'd shaved. He attempted again to use his self-shaving kit, but it seemed to have developed a vengeance against him from the last time he locked it away. As a matter of fact, he didn't feel like doing anything but hiding away inside his big empty home, yelling at Petur, whenever he dropped by and waiting for Hermione to stop being so stubborn hearted.
Day four. . .
The door chimes rang again, and he frowned at the wall. It couldn't have been Petur cause that moron had gotten a house key of his own. Maybe it was—
His heart made a jolt in his chest, and he banged his foot on the doorframe as he ran for the foyer. But when he yanked the door open he saw his father standing on the other side instead of Hermione.
"Good morning son" Lucius greeted him in a musical tone. He walked in holding a copy of The Daily Prophet in his hand. "What have you done with yourself? You look terrible." He said, handing the paper over, unfolded.
The first thing he saw was a grand size photograph that had been snapped of himself that morning he'd gotten into a brawl with Petur, at the Veranda. He looked rumpled with a grim, fat busted lip and Hermione standing in the center of a room, screaming like a pregnant lunatic. But it wasn't the photograph that made his stomach drop to the bottom of his feet. It was the headline below it.
I've Been Trapped by the Falcon's Best (And Dumbest) Seeker into Marriage -by Hermione Jean Malfoy.
"Motherfucker!"
"You'll have a lot more to say than that when you read the entire thing!" Lucius exclaimed sounding very amused. "It's all over London and Switzerland too of course, since you're here in Grindelwald I suppose. I heard the Quibbler has a better version. It seems they've tracked down a waitress by the name of E`sa."
"How could you let her do this? Aren't you in charge of how the paper is published dad!"
"Don't look at me, the last I recalled, I left the ball in your court with the ownership rights. But you've been locked away up here like some hermit. I suppose your Mrs. Hermione Malfoy, took it upon herself to put her marital rights to good use as part owner." Lucius leaned over and pointed to a spot on the front page. "She says here that she posed as a hooker and pretended to be your surprise birthday present. I must say your wild streak is a lot grander than mines, I never had a hooker for a birthday surprise! Usually I'd settle for one of your mother's homemade soufflés."
"It's like I told you, father. We had a fling, and she got-"
"Yes, I know she got herself pregnant. Well that can happen in a fling, those birthday surprises don't all come with warning labels you know." Lucius held a rather lugubrious expression as he took the paper from his son and opened to the continuing on page five. "Well, apparently page one wasn't enough, so she's taken half of this page to tell the rest of her story. Hum. . . .I haven't read this far." He gazed over the page and shot a quick and unrecognizable glance towards his son. "And you know what? Believe it or not, sales have gone through the roof this morning. They've offered her a pretty sweet deal, if she writes an entire book about the whole thing, you know. . . the little details, the way it actually happened. Can't blame the girl for going for the galleons."
Draco snatched the paper back from his father hands and crumpled it in his fist, he threw it on the floor, and started stomping on it. He wanted a good excuse to go see his wife, and now he had one.
He was so angry he wanted to scream as he stormed out of the front doors. Lucius closed them behind him, and began to whistle a tune. He then headed for the kitchen. He felt tea, would be lovely this time of day.