A/N: Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favorited this fic.
Thank you to: hkmac, Andykins, BeWhoYouAre99, Kou Shun'u, and mbclose.
To BeWhoYouAre99: You know...I didn't really think it was such a great idea to kill Draco. I honestly thought no one was going to read this fic because it was right in the description that Draco died. Who wants to read a sad story where the love interest dies? Not me! But...the plot bunny bug bit me and I had to write it. As for how I got inspiration to write it, I don't really know. I just like to write things that I haven't seen before. I've seen a lot of cliches: some good and some bad. I thought I would write something different to break away from that cookie-cutter outline. And I know you are kind of concerned about Hermione moving on. We all want her to love Draco forever. I know what I said earlier, and the ending has stayed the same somewhat. I will only say now that this story is not about finding a new love interest for Hermione. When the story ends, she will not swept up into the arms of some guy and kissed with steaming passion. You're probably kind of relieved in a way. You don't want her to be alone for the rest of her life. I get that. We'll just have to see what happens, but if there is someone she takes a fancy to, it's not going to be the main point of the story at all. So...yeah. Thanks for the review. It was good to hear your thoughts again.
To Andykin: I'll think about about the memory thing. I do have a person's memory, not Hermione's or Draco's, that I will be showing in a later chapter. So we will see. :)
To Kou Shun'u: You won't have to wait too long for the headline. You know I love to make my readers sweat just a little. ;)
"No, I do not have a copy of the boy's birth certificate."
"Do you have a photograph of him?"
"…No, but-"
"Come now, Lucius," Edward Fairworth chuckled and leaned back into chair across from Lucius. "Have you even met the boy?"
"Well, no-"
"Mr. Stapes, I fail to see how this made up child is going to be interfering with my portion of the company," Mr. Fairworth said to the third man who was sitting next to him. The three wizards sat tensely in Lucius' office discussing legal and financial matters concerning the Malfoy company. Lucius had been awake for nearly 20 hours, most of that time having meetings with his business partners and solicitors. He furtively checked the clock above the mantle which did nothing to help him. The clock had been removed an hour ago by Mippy.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Fairworth does have a point. It would best if there was proof of the child's existence. Rumors like these are made up every day."
"You think I'm lying?" Lucius inquired in a sputter. "That's preposterous!"
"All I'm saying is the lack of proof is questionable. Lucius, everyone in England has seen The Daily Prophet headline and has read the article. Do you know how many people actually believe…Now what does it say here?" The man took out a copy of the newspaper and recited, "The Malfoy Lineage Prevails: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger's Secret Love Child Revealed. Not even half of the population believes this."
"What Mr. Stapes is saying, Lucius, is that my money is my money, there is no child, and I will do what I please with my assets once you have passed along."
"Give me something to present, Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Stapes begged. "And I will do so faithfully in the Wizengamot with bells on my toes and ears, but I cannot touch a spellbound contract centuries old clearly stating that all family affairs, assets, and estates will go to the next Malfoy heir. From what I can see, my friend, you do not have one. Furthermore, upon your passing, all of those will go towards your business partners or left to the Ministry and sold for auction."
"I know, and that will not happen. My son did have a child and will be taking over the company when he turns seventeen. I will tell you, Mr. Stapes and Mr. Fairworth, to not worry about it as of yet. The boy still has a few years before he is of age, and I still have a few years before I will be passing on. Until then, the company is still mine. Thank you for your visit, Gentlemen, but I have some matters to take care of."
Once the two men left, Lucius summoned Mippy and asked her to fetch his wife. Moments later, Narcissa arrived in his office, her demeanor a bit frazzled.
"All the Floos are currently neutralized. No one can get in or out, but Owl Posts have been increasing rapidly in the last few hours. I haven't opened any, and I had Mippy get rid of all the Howlers. I admit, though, I find myself in a curious state. I wonder what some people have been writing."
"I assure you, love, most of those letters will not have any composure. It has come to my attention that only a few believe The Daily Prophet's headline," Lucius picked up the newspaper in gesture, "and those who do are not thrilled."
Narcissa nodded in acceptance and sat down on the seat Mr. Stapes vacated minutes before, reaching across the desk and taking the newspaper. "I still wonder how it got out. Someone must have been there when Miss Granger and I were at the restaurant last night. He or she must have been eavesdropping. It irks me terribly, Lucius"
"I know how bothered you are. I am, as well. I'm facing all of those who I considered trustable and respectable business partners and and their lawyers. They were all hoping to cash in the moment I left this plane of existence. I'm not overly concerned; however, Alex will take over. Just think, Darling, in nine years none of this will matter. No one will care anymore. This is only but a small blip in the spectrum."
"You're right," Narcissa said and then asked, "Have you heard from Blaise?"
"Unfortunately, I have not. I wonder how much progress he has made working over Miss Granger. I honestly believe it is best if she were to stay in England until the storm calms. Not to mention, young Alexander needs to begin his studies. Cissa, have you contacted the tutors?"
"I have sent Owls, but I doubt I will recieve a response for at least a week. However, I do believe the boy is presently well-educated. He was attending a very good school. I'm positive he is very bright like our Draco. His mother is smart, too, or so I heard. For a…woman of her upbringing, anyway."
Mippy appeared and bowed deeply, a letter in her small hand.
"Mippy, didn't I tell you to leave the Owl Posts in my quarters?" Narcissa asked sternly.
"Mippy is sorry, Mistress, but letter is from Mrs. Parkinson Weasley. Mippy not sure if Mistress meant she. Mippy will put the letter in Mistress's quarters."
"No, I will take it if it is from Pansy," Narcissa said and let the elf hand her the letter. "You may go."
Mippy left and Narcissa looked to Lucius with a quirked eyebrow. "What do you think it will say?"
"I don't know. I'm in shock it's not a Howler. She's exceptional at those. Remember when Paldig died on the way to Pansy's estate."
"Yes. The owl was carrying her invitation to our annual Christmas Charity Ball."
"She was quite upset, indeed. She thought she had not been invited," Lucius reflected and extended his hand. "Would you like me to open it?"
"No, I'll do it. Hand me your opener?" With Lucius envelope opener, she slit open the parchment and took out the tri-folded letter and unfolded it, her eyes skimming over the loopy handwriting and narrowing at each word.
"Something wrong?" asked her husband.
Sinking her teeth in the tip of her tongue, Narcissa sucked in a deep breath through her nose and clenched the letter in her hand. "He told her."
"Pardon?"
"Draco told Pansy. She knew, Lucius! How could he tell her and not us?! My Gods, he didn't even tell Blaise, but he told her! Why her!" Narcissa let the creased parchment fall to the ground and stood up and glared at the mantle where the clock used to be before turning to her husband who was levitating the letter towards him. "Read it! Read and tell me you're not upset."
Lucius brought the letter to his hand and began to read:
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,
I apologize for not keeping in touch since Draco's funeral, but I have purposefully been avoiding you. Three years ago, Draco told me in secret about Hermione Granger and their son. I told no one of this out of trust. When I heard the news of Draco, I immediately wanted to contact you and tell you everything, but I was unsure of how you would react or if you would even believe me. Furthermore, I am relieved you know about the boy, and I expect someday in the future I will be meeting him. Draco told me how he has the Malfoy name, so there will be no qualms about inheritance issues.
With love,
P.W.
"Well...aren't you angry?" Narcissa hissed.
Lucius sighed and set the letter aside. "No."
"No?!"
"No."
"How can you not be upset about this? Why would Draco trust her before he would even trust Blaise? Why couldn't he tell us?"
"Darling, I suspect Miss Granger heavily influenced Draco's decision in keeping the child away from us. She did not want us to know and to appease her, our son went along with it."
"But he told Pansy! I don't think Hermione would have approved of that!"
"I doubt Miss Granger knows Pansy was informed. As to why Draco told her over Blaise, I think it's quite obvious."
"Do tell."
"Well, in all honesty, I think the letter was a well-formed lie. I congratulate Pansy for trying to be polite, but I am going to assume Draco did not tell her a damned thing."
"Then how-"
"Sweetheart, this is Pansy we are discussing. She found out and mostly likely confronted Draco who had no choice but to tell her the truth."
"How did she find out? We knew nothing for over eight years."
"You know, Cissa, I never believed Pansy got the praise she deserved in school. She had decent test scores, but she was continually outshined by those around her. Ancient Runes and Astronomy were always her specialty. Patterns are her expertise. If I were to guess that Draco disappearing on designated days of the year, someone could very well take notice and demand answers."
Alex doubled over and vomited onto the carpet beneath him and then started to sob uncontrollably.
"Is he okay?" Blaise asked with concern while shrugging of his winter jacket and draping it over the back of the couch.
"He's not used to Portkeying and Apparting so close together," Hermione explained and bent over to rub her son's back soothingly and made shushing sounds. "You're okay, Sweetheart. Mummy's got you. Look," she pointed to the large window across the room and was about to tell him they were now all in England but stopped short, her throat catching her words. Slowly standing, she soaked in her surroundings, horror knocking the wind from her.
"This is his flat," she whispered and then looked at Blaise, tears clouding her vision. "You took us to his flat. You want us to stay here?"
"We don't have to. We can go somewhere else," he rushed out, a regret expression on his face. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
Ignoring him, Hermione walked around the flat, thinking nothing had changed in nine years. The furniture, the color schemes were all the same. She came to a closed door and opened it, entering Draco's office and looking around. There were portraits on the wall, but all the occupants were gone, having left only opaque backgrounds and golden frames.
The desk was mahogany and appeared to have not been touched in over a month, for a thin layer of dust coated the wood. A pair of glasses caught her eye, and she gingerly picked them with her pointer finger and thumb, a broken smile almost stretching her lips.
"I knew you needed them, you stupid blind boy," she muttered under her breath and couldn't help but open them up and slide them. She gazed around the room, trying and failing to adjust her vision. Putting her attention back on the desk, she blearily saw a blurry picture frame and movement. Slipping off the spectacles, Hermione saw who was in the photograph and then hurriedly picked it up and brought it closer to her eyes, a sullen frown marring her lips.
"Astoria," Blaise said from the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame.
Hermione nodded solemnly and set the picture back down. "She's pretty."
"That she is."
"Um…" Hermione sniffed and tried to compose herself, wiping underneath her eyes. "Had they set a date? For the wedding, I mean?"
Blaise shook his head from side to side. "They could never agree. She wanted to get married this past May, but Draco thought sometime next year would have been best."
"Oh," Hermione replied softly, not finding any other words that could describe her feelings at the moment.
"Granger, I know you don't want to tell me. You don't want to tell anyone. You nearly exploded back in Salem when Alex mentioned it, but I can't help but get the feeling that…Draco was comfortable with you. He wanted you. You said when Alex was born, he asked you to marry him. You said he visited, and I'm just trying to understand my friend here. He always made it appear he was well supplied with women up until Astoria. He'd disappear for a day or weekend. I assumed he was with a lady friend."
"What makes you think he wasn't," Hermione couldn't help but challenge, a weak smile gracing her features. "Yes, Draco and I had something. It was special, and I loved him for so many different reasons and so many different ways but never the one where I felt like we should get married. I guess I couldn't ever let myself trust him because I had seen him and his family at their worse and I was on the receiving end of it.
"I would have moments where I could almost pretend I never knew Draco before Ron and Pansy's wedding, and that we were like any love story—we met at a party and one thing led to another. Those moments would never last long, and one day they just stopped happening. Fantasies stopped and I couldn't pretend anymore. I couldn't pretend any longer that it didn't hurt to have him show up whenever he felt like and pretend it didn't kill me every time he had to leave. But I still couldn't trust him enough to ask him to stay. Blaise, you must know the War and the choices I made afterwards…made me different. You can probably sense that I hardly trust anyone."
Blaise hesitantly nodded. "The days of people trying to hurt you are over, Hermione."
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and she smiled at him like she would a small child who sang the ABC's out of order. "I wish I could believe that."
"You can," he assured.
"Do you trust everyone you know?"
"I don't believe everyone wants to hurt me," Blaise explained crisply.
Rubbing at her cheeks and eyes, Hermione sniffled unattractively and chuckled. "I truly doubt that. Have they met you? You're awful."
"Many overlook that because I'm fetching."
An ache of loss punched her chest, and Hermione grimaced. "You sound like him. Like Draco. He'd say idiotic things like that."
"Idiotic but true. Remember that, Granger," Blaise said and stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked around the office pensively. "So I'm guessing you've been to Draco's flat before."
"Yes. That weekend."
"You came straight to his office. Why?"
Hermione dabbed underneath her eyes with the sides of her fingers and blushed, turning to look at the desk. "Draco always thought Alex was conceived on the dining table. He wasn't." Hermione nudged her head at the desk and patted the wood. "It was here."
Ignoring his appalled expression, Hermione brushed passed Blaise and entered the sitting room to go back to Alex who was lying on the couch looking lethargic and pale.
"Are you alright?" she asked and he kind of nodded in yes, his eyes hooded and blood-shot. She pointed her wand at the vomit on the carpet and cleaned it up before sitting beside him on the couch. It was the same couch she sat on many years ago after saying yes to Draco's proposition of a weekend fling.
It wasn't long before Alex's eyes closed and his breathing became heavy and Blaise asked,"Do you think he'd be up for a trip to the Manor after he wakes up?"
Hermione looked down at her lap. "I need to tell him about his father when he wakes up. I have to tell him why we are really here." Leaning her head back against the cushion, she swallowed thickly. "I don't know if you should be here when I do."
An hour-in-a-half passed and Blaise had been gone for twenty minutes of it, mentioning before he Disapparated that he needed to speak with Draco's parents and tell them of her and Alex's arrival to England.
She leaned against the large window and stared down at Diagon Alley, thinking the area must have tripled in size in the last ten years. There were more shops, restaurants, and apartment buildings since her last visit.
Unable to help herself, the corners of her mouth twitched. If only the people down there new Hermione Granger could see them. Her amusement did not last long when thinking of her old friends and the Weasley Family and how they must have felt when reading The Daily Prophet that morning with their tea. Did they believe the article? Did they even care?
She sincerely hoped they didn't believe it and didn't care and were too involved with their own lives than to be bothered by hers.
A knock on the door roused her out of her thoughts, and she whipped her head around to look at the door and then at Alex who was still sleeping on the couch.
Heart beating against her chest bone rapidly, Hermione wondered who could be at the door and why. Why would anyone be knocking on a dead man's door? If it were Blaise, he would have simply Apparated in? Unless he didn't want to wake Alex. Maybe it was Blaise?
She crept towards the door and jumped when there was another knock, contemplating whether to yell a 'hello?' but thought better of it.
With the barrier finally in front of her, she went to look through the peephole and leapt out of her skin when the person knocked again, this time louder, and shouted through the barrier, "Hermione, I know you're in there. Open the door!"
Stomach bottoming out and beating heart hitting the back of her teeth, she backed away from the door, her feet nearly stumbling over each other.
It was Harry!