Narcissa eyes narrowed at the prices on Madam Putman's Café's menu. Money was not something she worried about; however, she was not a frivolous spender and purchased things she needed or wanted but never on a whim.
Okay, that's a lie. But really? Thirty plinkets for a true English breakfast and that's not counting the tea?
Narcissa scanned the menu for the variety of teas and found the restaurant only carried two kinds: iced and hot. Sighing irritably, she placed the parchment aside and focused her attention on her husband who was also frowning at the menu.
"You never told me what happened last night," she said to him.
"I'm sure you heard what happened from the report," he said without looking up from the parchment.
"Oh, I read the report, but somehow I suspect you did not break past Hermione Granger's wards because you wanted to kill an English Muggle-Born and molest her child."
Lucius set aside the menu and horror filled his eyes. "Is that what they put? Is that what they thought? That I'm a…" He did not finish the sentence, but Narcissa made a note that he did not deny wanting to kill an English Muggle-Born.
"And I told them straight you were not, Mister Malfoy," said Mr. Woods who wiped at his mustache after drinking some of his coffee. "Perhaps some believed my word, but your record is colorful, and it was quite damning of you to break that woman's wards. For future reference, I shall tell you that the majority of these Yankee house-owners have set up wards directly connecting to a police station. If the ward seizes to work, the law enforcement are alerted right away and keep an eye on the property, making sure all is well and will pop in if needs be."
"Lucius, what did happen last night?" Narcissa repeated forcefully.
"Yes, yes. Do tell," urged Mr. Woods and Lucius refrained from shooting him an irritated glare.
"Well," Lucius began slowly, "I arrived at Miss Granger's doorstep and knocked on the door. She answered but before I could get a word in, she slammed the door in my face and immediately set up Silencing Charms around the house. I admit, I did attempt to enter her home without her permission which was when I discovered she had set up wards."
"So you decided to break them?" Narcissa asked in dubiety. "Lucius, that was absurd! What were you thinking? You could have been killed."
"Ward-breaking usually does not result in death, darling. Only if there is a curse attached to the ward does that happen, and that's particularly rare and most likely above Miss Granger's knowledge of magic."
"I'm not talking about that," she snapped and looked over at an amused looking Mr. Woods. "Explain to him, please, why it is dangerous to trespass on States' owner property."
Mister Wood clasped his meaty fingers together and nodded gravely. "The laws of using an Unforgiveable here in the States are flexible. Generally speaking, yes, the Killing Curse is outlawed. If used for self-defense or protecting of one's home and everything and everyone in it, Miss Granger could have very well decided to use that right."
The law was unfamiliar to Lucius; however, it did not perturb him in the least. Miss Granger did not kill him nor would she. He was not naïve enough to believe she was made of fluff and sweets, but she was not a killer.
"She didn't," Lucius said sternly to Narcissa who looked like she wanted to snap back at him but the waitress arrived at the table to take orders.
"Did you at least get to talk to Miss Granger before you were arrested?" his wife asked.
"She refused to let me get a word in. She's quite ill-mannered and loud-mouthed. I haven't any idea what Draco saw in her. Pretty, yes. Respectable, no. And her home…" Lucius grimaced and stuck out his chin. "I would like an answer why Draco did not set her and the child up in a proper house. The property is devastatingly miniscule. It is so unlike our boy to not take care of what's his."
"Did you see the child at all?"
"…No, I did not." He watched as his wife's shoulder's slumped and a disappointed breath escape her lips. He decided not to tell her about the pictures he saw on the mantle, knowing it would only cause her more grief.
"Mr. Woods, are you sure there isn't any way we can see our grandson?"
"From afar," the man chortled jestingly and sobered at the bemused expressions tossed at him and waved a dismissive hand at them. "No, no. Don't do that. Stalking is frowned upon."
"What can we do?" Lucius asked, his patience wearing thin. "There must be something. Anything."
"Anything?" Mr. Woods stroked his mustache and cocked a brow. "Well, yes. If you word it that way, then I suppose anything may suffice. There have been cases where…grandparents have sued for custody of the grandchild."
A flicker of intrigue sparked in Lucius' eyes and Narcissa reached her hand over and placed it right above his lame knee and squeezed. The sparkle deflated and the corners of his mouth twitch downward in well-hidden grimace.
"That's outrageous. Absolutely not!" Narcissa hissed under breath as to not draw attention to the table. "There must be another way."
"Well, certainly not full custody, mind you, but I could represent your case as for wanting joint custody. I could ask the law for you to simply have visitation rights to the young lad, but those cases are firmly set on the parents' shoulders and whether they cave into the legal system or not. If this is something you are honestly interested in, I strongly recommend you think about it before pursuing. Lawsuits are such a messy business. If, by chance, you do decide to seek my help in representing your case and it doesn't follow through like you hoped, Miss Granger can turn around and sue you." The man sighed with wistful smile on his lips. "I love the States. So," he took a sip of his coffee, "Those are the only options I can give you. Legally, anyway. You can try talking to Miss Granger, again, and hope for the best. Hmmm? That is what I truly suggest. Lawsuits—they can be so catastrophic, especially when a child is concerned. So let us have breakfast, talk about the good things in life, and then we'll discuss on what you really want."
Hermione ran into her Curly Girly Bookshop and weaved in and out of the shoppers and towards the café. She dodged the impatient looks sent her way from the long line at the counter and flew through the Employees Only door.
"Darlene! Jackson!" she yelled out, her chest stuttering for breath. Damn, she needed to stop smoking. She hadn't run that far for Merlin's Sake! She only Disapparated from the market and appeared outside her store.
"Hermione," she heard Darlene's voice from the far back corner of the kitchen.
"What's wrong? I got your Patronus." Hermione ran towards Darlene's voice where the girl was found by the back door with stacks and stacks of open coffee pouches.
"We still don't have coffee! I thought you were going to take care of this yesterday!" The girl gestured to the coffee pouches still filled with blow. "You left for Alex's school, didn't come back, and I got word from Luna you had to take care of an emergency. I thought the emergency was to get coffee! We don't have any and we have twenty people in line demanding it with their blueberry scones! What the hell, Hermione?!"
"Where's Jackson? Why isn't he here? I can't be here, Darlene. It's Alex's birthday today, and I thought when I left yesterday, it was obvious I wanted everyone else to take care of the situation!"
Darlene burst into tears and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders stuttering from her violent sobs. She blubbered out, "H-He took a bag and went out back. When I went to go check on him, he and Matthew were lying on the ground and talking to the dumpster. What are we going to do?"
Hermione shoved her hand into her purse and fished out her carton of cigarettes.
"You can't smoke in here," Darlene wailed.
"I want you to go home. Can you do that?" Hermione asked while lighting the tip of her life-killer with a wave of her finger.
"What about the café? The coffee?"
"Can't we serve them tea?"
"We don't drink tea for breakfast in America, Hermione. You know that. You go out there and tell them their Saturday-morning options are hot chocolate and tea, I probably won't ever see you again."
"Fine. The café is going to have to be closed for the day. We have no coffee, and two of our employers are most likely going to get arrested within the next thirty minutes. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to be here when that happens."
"Okay, okay." Darlene inhaled a deep breath and started untying her apron. "I'll go home. Are you going to pay me for my full hours, anyway?"
Hermione slowly blinked at the girl and cocked an eyebrow. "No."
"Because I was hoping-"
"Work one of the tills in the store. Don't care." Hermione shooed the girl away with a wave of her hand and stared back at the problem at hand. Effing Morgana, what was she going to do with fifty pounds of blow?
Looking from the stacks to her purse, Hermione cringed and pointed her wand.
This was a really bad idea.
"I'm home! I'm home! I home!" Hermione bellowed while walking through the front door, balancing a large, chocolate cake in her hands and several gift bags looped around her arms. "Luna! Phoebe!"
The two girls rushed to meet her at the door and helped her with the cake.
"You were gone for longer than we thought you'd be," Phoebe pointed out. "We're behind on decorating the backyard. Putting up the Weather Resisting Charms took a little while, and then we had to melt the snow…"
"It's fine. I just had to take care of some things at work," Hermione replied nervously. Friend or no friend, Phoebe would arrest her on the spot if she knew there was drugs in her purse.
"Oh," Luna said with a vacant smile and nodded like she understood. "Sorry that wasn't taken care of. Is it now?"
"For now. Is Alex at Nathaniel's?"
"Yes. Micah, as well. Brandon will be bringing the boys over at noon. The other guests will arrive sooner or later around then which gives us ninety minutes to get everything ready. Is Alex's father coming?" asked Phoebe.
Hermione slipped off the gift bags on the kitchen counter and dodged Luna's pointed look. "No, he won't be coming this time."
"Oh, no. I bet Alex is feeling upset about that. He only gets to see him once, maybe three times a year. I can't imagine how hard that would be. Micah sees his father all summer and on holidays and complains about wanting to see him more. Damien and I have discussed every other weekend, but the prices of portkeys are going up. They don't just let you make your own anymore, do they? But will Alex's father be visiting for Christmas?"
"I…hope?"
"Oh, no. He's not coming, is he? You know, I really wondered about that. Especially the row you two had at the Easter Egg Hunt." A horror struck expression painted itself on Phoebe's face. "Is that why he's not coming today? He's still angry."
"It's…a bit more complicated than that." Hermione smiled sadly and placed the gift bags on the kitchen counter and then slipped off her coat.
Phoebe nodded and then narrowed her eyes and pointed at the witch's blouse. "What's on your shirt?"
Hermione looked down and to the left and her eyes bulged in panic. Chuckling nervously, she brushed off the white substance on her shirt and said, "When I stopped by at the café, I nibbled on a beignets. I may have gotten a little excited there."
"Are they any good? It's so hard to find a good beignets in this part of the country," Phoebe commented.
"Delicious." Hermione made her way towards the hallway. "I'm going to go change my shirt. I'll be right back. While I'm doing that, would you and Luna be so kind as to go in the basement and fetch the piñata. This morning Alex thought it would be funny if his dragon piñata was alive, so with some wishful thinking and a pet on the confetti scales, the bloody thing is flying around and blowing out red-orange confetti all over the place. If you could just corner it and un-animate it, that would be spectacular."
Hermione changed her shirt and slid her purse deep within her closet. When she had been in the café's kitchen, she had contemplated Vanishing the entire stock of cocaine, but Vanishing spells were not one hundred percent guarantee anymore. Nothing could actually disappear but merely be placed somewhere else. Not to mention, with new advancements in criminal investigation spells, magic was now traceable on all magical beings. According to studies, each witch and wizard has a unique, easily traceable frequency. If she had Vanished the blow, and it spontaneously appeared in the middle of the college campus Quidditch pitch, her magical fingerprint could be traced back to her by a few spells only known to the law-enforcement figures in society.
Hermione didn't fancy the idea of a trip to prison.
Shirt changed, teeth brushed for the second time that morning, and her mask of 'I'm a good mom and not a barmy person' glued firmly on, she pretended that she did not receive the news of Draco's death. She would play the part of the dutiful single mom perfectly and lie to herself and say she did not need Draco to be there and she never had. Because if she clamped down on her pride for just this one day, she would not fall apart at the next person who decided to ask where her son's father was.
Shoulders up and back straight, Hermione marched out of her bedroom and down the hall towards her living room like she was eighteen years old and preparing for a war again. To her, losing someone one cared about was a war in its own way.
Brave face on and a new shirt in place, she was ready to tackle this birthday party and in no way would she be checking her watch and darting her eyes about in search for a blond-haired prat to be arriving with an arrogant smirk and pockets full of perfectly wrapped presents for Alex and...
Oh, Dear Gods!
Hermione stopped midway down the hall, her legs giving out and her emotionally overwhelmed body falling to the floor with a thump. She brought her knees up to her chin and buried her face into the denim, screaming into her thighs while rocking back and forth like she was a child and not a thirty-one year old woman.
Luna came around the corner covered in red-orange confetti and hurried towards her.
"Hermione? Hermione, are you okay? What's wrong?" The girl knelt down by Hermione and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"He's not coming. He's not coming. H-He's not going to be here," Hermione whispered through thick, damp cries. She raised her head and shook it, running a hand through her curls and then clutching them like a life line. Placing her blood-shot eyes on a frowning, sympathetic Luna, she admitted, "I got no sleep last night. Draco's father paid a visit and broke my wards because he wanted to see Alex. I lied to Sam and Phoebe and told them I didn't know him. When they took him away, I couldn't sleep at all. All I could think about is trying to accept what has happened and still I cannot wrap my head around that Draco won't be here today. He's not going to be here for Christmas. He's not going to show up and spoil Alex rotten with the latest broom he's too young to fly, the most expensive toys he'll break in seconds, and with loads of candy pouring from his pockets. Luna, he's not coming. He always comes!"
"I was afraid this would happen. Come on, Hermione." Luna helped her to her feet and let the woman lean on her as much as needed. "Should we cancel the party?"
"Absolutely not!"
"How about I send you to your room with a bit of sleeping potion, tell everyone you're ill, and Phoebe and I will take care of everything."
"No, I can't do that! I have to be there! It's bad enough Draco won't be. I can't imagine how Alex would take it if I decided to nap during his special day."
"You need to rest. You can't contain your emotions without it."
Hermione sighed, face weary with resignation. "Sleeping Draught is not going to make the hurt go away. I'm going to wake up, and Draco still won't be here. Not anywhere."
"I think you should take some time for yourself, Hermione. I can run the store in your place for as long as needed and hire another hand if needs be, but you need to relax and find closure. I know it seems impossible now to even think about anything besides Draco, besides Alex, besides the hurt. One day, though, it won't hurt so much—for you and for Alex. I promise. I lost a parent when I was young, too."
Hermione nodded and sniffled, licking her lips of tears. "How did you get over that?"
"Well," Luna began with her eyes flicking to the side like she was recalling a memory. "Father helped as did Mrs. Weasley's creamy onion soup but…I didn't get over it because you don't get over losing a Mum or a Dad. I remember one day I just didn't need to feel sad anymore. My mum was still gone," Luna smiled forlornly, "but I didn't feel the need to cry. Hermione, you know all this. You've lost loved ones in your life. So many lives gone during the war. How did you heal from those losses?"
Wiping her eyes, Hermione chuckled bitterly and vaguely answered, "Let's hope I handle this devastation differently than I did after the war."
Noon rolled around, and Hermione threw herself into keeping busy with entertaining Alex, his friends, and their parents. Phoebe had never managed to un-animate the piñata dragon, so it flew around the backyard while all the children grabbed a Quidditch bat and ran after it while sporadically jumping up into the air, trying to thwack it.
"This is quite the turn out, Miss Granger," Mr. Li commented while handing her a cup of punch. Hermione accepted the drink with a smile while putting the last present on the table. Stealing a sip, she stood back and contemplated the tower with a frown. Perhaps she should put some away for Christmas.
"That's putting it mildly," Hermione retorted and wondered if she were to give Alex all of his presents, where he would put them. There wasn't enough space in his room. Of course, she could always Charm his bedroom larger if it came down to it.
"Who's that?" Mr. Li asked.
"Who's who?"
Mr. Li pointed towards the backdoor and Hermione followed his line of vision and let out an audible curse, marching over towards a smirking Blaise Zabini.