Flying Lesson Assignment 4 (This is a test of your pairing. There are always going to be downs in your relationship and this is where we discuss a very deep down. Both of your pairing should be feeling the problem and should overcome it. The problem must be an obstacle that is perceived as difficult. Prompts: (plot) funeral, Extra: (dialogue) "You seriously think that is enough to get rid of me?")
Gringotts (Dialogue/Inspiration Proverbs: 126. "If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, than Mohammed must go to the mountain. 55. "Misery loves company) / Dialogue Orange in the New Black: "It's just about getting through the day without crying")
-oOo-
"A wife who cannot provide a child is not a wife indeed…"
There was something about a funeral for an infant that just left the world feeling sick. Aside from the preacher, no one dared to speak. No one dared to breathe. It was still as death itself in that church. But death didn't reside in the church rows. Death stood by the coffin. Death kept its hand on her son and dared anyone to speak against him.
What right did he have taking her child from her? What right did God have for depriving her of her son before she even got the chance to know him?
She didn't have answers to those questions and she knew she never would. She mattered little to the grand scheme of the world. Her child had mattered even less.
The prayer being sent up by the preacher caused Hermione to grow ridged. What did a prayer help? A God that took children wouldn't listened to anyone's pleads. He hadn't listened to the pleas of a mother, what made this man think he would listen now.
Draco kept running his thumb along the back of her hand. She had realized early off that the movement was to both calm her and himself. She tore her eyes from the coffin to glance at her husband. There were wells of tears forming. He couldn't keep them all nestled in the corner of his eyes. Hermione squeezed his hand in reassurance.
Neither spoke as the ceremony ended.
If Hermione thought the funeral was hard, the actual burial proved worst.
She didn't realize how small the coffin was until it rested among the grass. The grave stone stood higher than the white casket did.
They were standing for the lowering of the casket. Words were said, condolences given, and a prayer was once more sent up for the child, and that was it. At the end of it all, Hermione didn't remember a single word spoken. She didn't remember who had attended, who had offered condolences. She didn't remember how long she and Draco stood there long after every one left.
All she remembered, was that her baby was gone.
That was three days ago.
McGonagall had assured them that she had someone who could fill in for them at school. She and Draco could take the time they needed off and come back when ready. No one was rushing them. Everyone understood.
But they didn't understand.
They didn't understand just how broken they were.
The door to the baby's room remained closed. It was locked. Dust was beginning to set over the empty crib. Baby toys were left untouched. Baby clothes were folded neatly in the dresser.
Hermione hadn't slept in their bedroom since she returned from the hospital. Nearly a week she'd been taking her blanket to the guest room. Draco didn't speak against. He hardly spoke to her much in the last few days. He couldn't look at her without having to bite his lower lip. He couldn't touch her without shivering. She was the same.
There was a knock on the door but Hermione ignored it. She drew the blanket tighter around her, curled her knees into her chest and kept her eyes closed. She figured it was Draco at the door but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Not after what she had done.
"Misery loves company."
The voice didn't belong to her husband. Her eyes snapped open and darted towards the doorway. Lucius Malfoy had a soft smile on his lips. His hair was pulled back and his robes were as crisp as always. He was leaning heavily on his cane due to the pain in his knee.
"I was beginning to worry about the two of you," Lucius said, scanning his daughter-in-law's face. "Neither you nor my son have answered our attempts to contact."
"Sorry," Hermione muttered. Her voice was cracked from lack of use. She tried to think of the last time she had spoken. Probably the night she cried and screamed at the sky. What good that had done.
"No need to apologize," Lucius said. "May I enter?"
Hermione nodded. Lucius had to walk slowly, so it took him a minute to reach the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, resting his cane to the side and shifting to look at the young woman.
"How many times has Draco scrubbed that kitchen?" Lucius asked.
Hermione only shrugged, not knowing the answer. When Draco got stressed, he cleaned. And not just cleaned, but cleaned. There wasn't a surface that didn't get scrubbed. Judging from the soft hint of bleach that stuck to the air, she figured he had scrubbed holes into the counters by this point.
"What you are going through is nothing to be ashamed off." Lucius said. His voice had a calm and comforting tone, something Hermione had never expected to appreciate so much. "As horrendous as it is, these things unfortunately happen. You cannot allow it to ruin you."
"I can't have them though," Hermione muttered. The blanket was pressed against her face so her words were muffled. "It wasn't just a onetime thing. The doctor said having children was just not an option. My body can't handle it. Children aren't an option. Now or ever."
"I see," Lucius muttered. "Draco did not informing me of that part. I am truly sorry for that my dear. But you cannot allow this to end you here. You are a bright young woman. A woman who has a magnificent future ahead of you. You cannot allow yourself to become ingrained into this bed. I understand it might be hard, but-"
"You don't understand," Hermione growled. She rolled her eyes sharply onto him. "I can't have kids. Ever. I really wanted them. And Draco… he was so excited. He's so good with kids and he could hardly contain his excitement. We had a name picked out. A room decorated. Draco was already planning on teaching him to fly and brewing and cooking with him. And now… I took that all away from him."
"You did nothing of the sort." Lucius spoke sharply before his voice leveled. "This is not your fault."
"But isn't it?" At this point Hermione sat up. She kept the blanket tightly bundled around her, and looked the man in the face. "It was my body that couldn't handle it. My body that killed him."
Lucius, despite his aching joints, moved quickly towards Hermione as the tears built angrily in her eyes. He was beside her on the bed, holding her shoulders and rubbing his thumbs across them in a calming manner. "Do not dare blame yourself for this. Do you understand me? I don't want to hear you say those things."
"Shouldn't you be happy about all this?" Hermione pulled away from him. "I thought you didn't approve of me and Draco. I thought you'd be happy to hear that there wouldn't be little half-bloods running around with the Malfoy name."
Lucius sighed, knowing her anger was valid. "I know I have not been the most supportive of your relations with my son, but understand this Hermione, he loves you. Draco loves you like I have never seen him love. I did not approve at the beginning because I thought he could do better than a Muggleborn Gryffindor, I will admit this. I let old prejudice blind my actions. But as I have come to realize, you are exactly what he needs. And he is what you need."
"He doesn't need me," Hermione muttered. After the words left her lips she wished to take them back. But she couldn't, and she couldn't stop the next sentences as well. "I can't provide him kids. I can't do what a wife is supposed to do."
"Then don't," Lucius replied. "Draco loves you, rather you can have kids or not. This isn't going to suddenly cause him to turn from you."
"Kids are a big deal. Your wife made that clear enough."
Lucius frowned, understanding what that sentence meant. If he hadn't showed the best support, his wife has shown even less. "Having kids is pushed so hard because families don't want their bloodline and family name to die out. But I assure you, I would rather the Malfoy name end with my son than for him to lose you to birthing complications."
Hermione couldn't look at Lucius after that. "I'm sorry."
"Do not apologize. For anything. None of this is your fault. Now, what do you say we get you out of bed? It's about time you and Draco beginning picking up the pieces."
"He won't talk let alone look at me."
"If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, than Mohammed must go to the mountain," Lucius spoke. "Draco is stubborn, neither of us can deny that. He's also scared and unsure right now. He's hurting, just as you are, and he doesn't want you to see that. But before you can help him, you have to help yourself. And that means getting out of this bed."
Lucius took her hand and tugged softly. She allowed him to guide her out of the bed. When her feet hit the floor, she wobbled slightly. "After that, it's just about getting through the day without crying. From there, life becomes easy to handle."
Hermione breathed a small sigh. "Thank you Mr. Malfoy."
"It's Lucius," he said. "You are my daughter-in-law after all. That makes you family."
Hermione didn't trust herself to speak. Instead she wrapped her arms around him in a hug, an action she had never considered doing prior. It only took a second for him to return the hug. When they broke apart and Hermione walked slowly from the bedroom, she didn't ignore the small spark beginning to warm her chilled body.
Draco was sitting in the kitchen, a bottle of bleach and a rag in front of him. He had his head buried in his hands. His shoulders were shacking and his cries were heavy. She crossed the room quickly, taking the chair next to him. It took Draco a moment to notice her there.
They just looked at each other. It had been days since they sat this close to each other. Since they felt this close to each other.
"I'm sorry," Draco muttered. He didn't bother whipping away the tears. "Are you okay? That's a dumb question."
"I'm getting there. You?"
Draco took her hand. He hadn't touched her since the funeral. "I'm getting there."
Upon those words, they fell into each other's arms. There was a moment of silence as they just sat there, holding each other. It felt good to be in contact. To actually feel the other's skin. To hear their heartbeat.
"We don't have to have kids," Draco spoke. This was the conversation they should have had days ago.
Hermione ran her hand up his back, gripping his shoulder. "I thought you wanted them."
"Not at the risk of your safety." They pulled apart, Draco cupping his palm over her cheek.
"I figured you'd be disappointed. You wanted kids and I can't give you that. I thought-"
Draco didn't need her to finish to understand her fear. "You seriously think that is enough to get rid of me? You not having kids? I fucking love you, Hermione Granger. Kids or no kids. Nothing will ever change that. And besides, if down the road, we decide we really do want kids, there are always other options. There's surrogates. And adoption. Plus, Potter and Weaslette seem content to pop out a hoard of their own. We could always steal one of theirs for a time being."
They both laughed softly at that. It was a sound that had somehow become foreign in the home.
"I love you, Hermione."
"I love you."
It took three more days before the two of them made it back to the grave site. Grass was already growing over the disturbed ground. The gravestone was surrounded by flowers left behind by loved ones. More flowers than she ever expected to see. A child that never got to breath in this world had a garden of his own. It didn't make Hermione feel better, but she was working her way there.
Draco was next to her, as he always was. They had stopped sleeping in separate rooms. They worked themselves onto a better eating schedule. They didn't ignore the calls and knocks on the doors. They would be going back to work come the following Monday.
The world kept spinning. Life kept going. Crawling in bed and melting into the sheets wasn't an option. Scrubbing holes into the counter tops wasn't healthy. They had finally understood that.
They stood there, hands held tight as they looked at the small grave. Draco was the first to step forward. He knelt down, and brushed the flowers back so that their son's name could be seen. Under it sat a single date; both his birth and death.
Hermione joined him, kneeling on the other side of the grave. She ran her hand over the cold stone. The couple looked at each other. Wordlessly, they reached for the other. Fingers intertwined above the grave, Draco sent her a soft smile which she returned.
It was progress.