A/N: Thank you to all my patient readers, reviewers, and followers as well as those who have favored this fic.
Thank you: MMMWillow13, Barabelle, sweetangelrock, Helen Montegro, hkmac, Angelus Draco, Anjali Katari, Aya Diefair, alina290, EEG, Angel Girl5, and Guest for the reviews.
I've been getting some comments on how hated Theodore is. Hmmm, interesting. I confess, though, I did not write him particularly likeable, but this is how I see him. He's cold and reserved. (Probably kind of pretty, too). I reckon his dad was totally off his rocker or something. Probably made Lucius look like father of the year and rainbows and ponies. Theodore may or may not have a thing for Hermione as discussed in a some earlier chapter, but the story isn't really even about that, so...yeah. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that it's cool that some of my readers don't like him but please don't feel threatened by him. I'm not going to make this fic even more dramatic and have Hermione helplessly get lost in some corner of hell where she gets sexually assaulted by him or anyone and has even more issues to deal with. I think only so much can happen to one character before it becomes unrealistic and morphs into a cheese-fest when I'm really only shooting for mozzarella appetizers. :) (Yum)
On that note I apologize for the not so quick update. I hope my readers are not too angry with me, but I present Chapter 44 now in consolation. It's not that wonderful, but I hope it'll be enough. Read and review and tell me your thoughts.
(Oh, and assume Mrs. Greengrass' maiden names is Dane. Just in case anyone gets confused. And my French is no good, so I'm sorry if it's wrong, but it's supposed to say, "You are pretty." Also, I'm sorry for any mistakes. I really did try my best to eliminate all of them.)
"It's like you don't care," Daphne snapped while stiffly adding four heaping teaspoons of sugar into her tea, her engagement ring catching the light of the small chandelier above her and her fiancé. That ring had been on her finger for nearly three years. Aside from having the jewelry professionally cleaned once a month, its presence on her hand remained constant. It had not been replaced with a wedding ring, nor had it been added to with a matching band.
She stirred the sugar crystals into her tea and gently tapped the spoon on the rim, waiting for Theodore to respond. He was sitting across from her with the business section of the Daily Prophet in his hands and a cigarette clenched between his lips. Knowing that he was not one to answer right away, she gave him time to respond and like clockwork, exactly twelve seconds later, he mumbled distantly through his closed mouth, "I don't."
She knew he'd say that.
"Theodore." She reached over the table and gripped the top of the newspaper, pulling it away from him and ignoring his brief look of annoyance. "Will we ever be more than what we are?"
Finishing the last drag of his cigarette, he stubbed it into the ashtray near his tea and stoically reminded her, "We had date set, remember? We agreed next April, but then you changed your mind four hours later."
"It wasn't so black and white," she defended with a frown. "If you recall, you agreed to April 15th, went to play Quidditch with your friends, came back and told me…" Her voice faded while her fingers messaged her temple, halting her words at the memory of her fiancé stumbling through the Floo, haunted and frighteningly angry as he shouted the news of Draco's death. "It wouldn't have been fair to Astoria, having me get married when she was supposed to. I changed my mind for her. I didn't want her hurting more than necessary. All I'm trying to say is that you have not urged me into another date."
"Daphne," Theodore started, sighing as he patted his pockets for his precious metal box. He found it in his inner coat pocket and flicked it open. "Blast, I'm out. As I was saying, you changed your mind. What confuses me, darling, is that you are troubled about my lack of participation in this engagement. From the moment you demanded a ring, we both knew the wedding was not going to happen for quite some time. We both had priorities, obligations, whatnot."
"I didn't think it was going to be this long of an engagement. Three years is a long time, and I'm scared we're getting too comfortable."
"I'm never comfortable."
Daphne smiled a little and rested her head on her hand. "I know, but my mum's getting worried. A Greengrass nor a Dane has ever married after twenty-five. It kills her Astoria and I aren't married yet. Although, Mum's not giving sis near as much flack as she used to."
Theodore stared at her from behind his black-rimmed glasses, his gaze focused and morbid. Even when Stumpy came and delivered the post, setting it next to the man's saucer, he didn't even blink. When the elf disapparated, Theo leaned back in his chair and revealed, "I paid a visit to my father yesterday during my lunch break."
Closing her eyes, Daphne sucked in a deep calming breath as she counted to ten inside her head. Never had Theodore admitted to visiting his father in Azkaban, but did he have to change the subject now? Ever since Draco had passed, it was like her fiancé had become even more closed off than possible. It was almost mockery that he brought up his dad when she was trying to move to the next level of their relationship.
In other words, she was trying to fix the rut that Draco Bloody Malfoy caused.
Of course she couldn't place the blame all on him. She and Theo had done damage all on their own, but it seemed what Draco did was irreversible.
"Oh," she whispered delicately and decided to steal of gulp of her tea. "And how was he?"
"Draco's portrait is finished."
Goddamn him!
Slamming the cup back on her saucer, earning that blink from Theodore, and stood up from her seat. With her chest heaving and a hand on her ribcage, she wheezed, "You don't want to get married, do you?"
Grabbing a letter opener from his pocket, he cut open the post the elf gave him while asking, "To you or in general?"
Her ring caught the chandelier light again, and she mirthlessly chuckled and abruptly hissed, "Theodore! You are being a prat! We need to figure this out. We need to-"
"Later," he murmured while his eye scanned the post. "Apparently Lucius and Narcissa are in the drawing-room. I'll give them your best."
Mutely, she watched as he got up from his chair and kissed her cheek, tight-lipped and teetering on the edge hysterics, not so much as being angry with him. Daphne could not place a time in hers and Theodore's relationship where she wasn't peeved at him for something or other. No, her fury was strictly reserved for the Malfoys, inviting that Granger tart and her illegitimate son into their home like they could care less about Astoria's feelings. Her sister had loved their son and had planned on marrying him, and it was like she was some common street-slag used for yesterday's business.
Theodore disappeared down the hallway when Daphne noticed another envelope that the house-elf had given to him with Lucius' note. She reached over and snagged it, reading her fiancé's full name in silver loopy lettering. Slicing it open with his letter opener, she found an invitation to the annual Christmas Ball the Malfoys organized at their manor every year. Naturally, Theodore would comply with the invitation, and that boy of Draco's would be there, as well. And if the child was there, Granger's presence would also be there, and Daphne's and hers previous encounter had been far too short. The eldest Greengrass still had words to say to the woman.
Daphne tapped the card on her chin thoughtfully before setting it down and draining the rest of her tea.
As did Astoria.
"Theodore," Lucius greeted from the seat closest to the fireplace. He sat with one leg over the other with a smoking pipe in hand. "You kept us waiting. How's Daphne?"
"Fine. Mr. Malfoy." Theodore nodded and then stooped down to brush a kiss against Narcissa's cheek. She was sitting in the middle of the sofa looking prim and elegant as always. "Mrs. Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Some news and a favor, I declare," Lucius formally replied. "I hear you've built yourself quite a reputation as a domestic solicitor."
"It's something I do when the Aurors are having an off-season. Why so interested?" Theodore leaned against the ledge of the fireplace's mantle.
Dragging a long puff from his pipe, Lucius flicked his focus at his wife and then said, "Miss Granger has awoken up from her comatose state, fortunately. However, these past few weeks have gotten my wife and I thinking about certain legal matters."
"Of what we know, Miss Granger does not have a guardian in place for Alexander," Narcissa paused to brush a lock of hair away from her cheek and then continued, "It would be ever so kind of you to counsel her. Though I doubt another tragedy will occur, after what happened, Lucius and I don't want to take any chances."
At the mention of Hermione's awakening, Theodore pursed his lips ever so slightly and then tuned in on what the couple had to say. After letting a few seconds of silence pass between the three of them, he verified by saying, "You want me to persuade Miss Granger leaving the boy to you in case of any tragedy that may befall her. Sounds like Blaise would have better progress, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Yet, alas, he's not the one with the license and the legal forms."
"We did not say to us, Theodore," Narcissa thinly explained.
"But it was implied."
Agitatedly, she stated, "The boy needs a stable environment if something were to happen to his mother."
"As an attorney, Mrs. Malfoy," he turned to Lucius knowingly smirked, "and Mr. Malfoy. Though you two are not officially my clients but as respected family friends, I advise you in contemplating possible consequences if something were to incidentally, yet, terminally happen to Miss Granger. If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Weasley suspected foul play upon Miss Granger's frigid swim. It mustn't have been pleasant when Mr. Potter interrogated you two, not to mention the deal you must've struck with him and Mr. Weasley to keep what happened out of the paper. If something were to happen again, I suspect you will not be as lucky."
"What are you insinuating, Theodore?" Narcissa asked reprovingly, a lace covered hand resting over her chest.
"I spent far too many galleons on Miss Granger's health in the past five weeks, Mr. Nott, to get rid of her now," Lucius icily said.
"Will you please have a meeting with her?" begged his wife. "I'm sure she'll at least listen. You did save her, after all."
His wristwatch told Theodore he was due in ten minutes at the Wizengamot in representing his client who had been accused of killing her husband with a Jelly-Legged Jinx as he walked down the stairs for a midnight snack. After that, he had another case where his mentally unstable client who wanted full of custody of his three children.
"Mr. Malfoy, if you don't mind, I may stop by for a nightcap tomorrow evening after work. If Miss Granger is up to par, then she is welcome to join me. Don't let her keep me waiting."
Great Gods, she looked atrocious!
"Are you all right, Mom?" Alex asked from his spot at the threshold of the loo, his head resting against the door frame as Hermione studied her reflection with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Cupping her face, she messaged her cheeks vigorously in hopes of bringing some color back to the sickeningly pale skin. There was no way she could pay a visit to Draco in such a state.
"How was your father?" She dodged his question with something much more interesting than her well-being. She obviously was not going to tell her son she felt awful and partially wanted to die, and lying was too much of a tiring hassle, anyway. Changing the subject to something both of them were interested in was the best way to go.
"He's good, I guess. Blaise was talking with him when I left. Probably about grown up stuff."
A ghost of a smile formed on Hermione's lips at imagining Blaise kicking back in an armchair with a drink, saluting Draco in his portrait while they discussed the Falcons. She wasn't sure where that image came from, but it seemed suitable for them both.
Her hair was lanky but surprisingly not frizzy nor was it greasy like it should be from being in a comatose state for weeks. In fact, she felt pretty clean. Glancing at her nails, they were well-groomed and even polished with a clear lacquer.
Leaning closer, she studied her eyebrows, wiggling them up and down and then running a finger over her left one. They were perfectly coifed and shaped with soft, elegant arches.
Okay, perhaps she didn't look all bad, though her eyes were lifeless with bluish-grey smudges underneath, but it pained her to admit that she had been well taken care of while unconscious. Most likely by Narcissa's command. She highly doubted Lucius was all that concerned with her physical appearance.
Her hands gripped the silk tie of her robe and tightened it and then ran them over her waist, her eyes studying the narrower size of it. Merlin, she hadn't been this thin since before she was pregnant with Alex and if her small form had happened by healthier circumstance, she would have been elated. Now, she was depressed, especially since nothing sounded good to eat except broth.
In the mirror, her vision caught Alex's gaze and she smiled at him, her hands slipping into the pockets of her robe when a frightening revelation penetrated her mind.
"My wand," she gasped and whirled around to face her son. "My wand. Where is my wand?"
Her son frowned and opened his mouth to reply when she heard Blaise calling for her in the bedroom.
"Granger?"
Brushing past Alex, she mercilessly flung her question at Blaise who was glaring at the mussed, empty bed. "Where is my wand?!"
"Why are you out of bed? You need to rest more. You-"
"Where is my wand?" she repeated curtly. A part of her knew the whereabouts of her wand and was hoping to get at least a sympathetic look from Blaise, but what she received was a peeved expression at her stupid question.
"You know it's gone. It wasn't on you when Theo fished you out," he flatly pointed out.
Growling at her loss, she completely bypassed the last part of Blaise's explanation. Damn it, she didn't want to get a new wand. It had taken her almost a year after the war to get the bloody thing to cooperate, the previous owner being Bellatrix Lestrange. After that, though, it had performed for her nicely and smoothly, never giving her any grief. It was kind of like adopting a young child who remembered its belated birth mother but still needed the tender love and care from the new mummy. It had just needed a little bit of affection was all.
"I need a wand, Blaise." She tapped her bare foot on the floor, then realizing how cold her toes were. Curling them, she folded her arms and shivered.
"We'll worry about that later, but I think Alex and I both agree that you need to be in bed."
"For Merlin's sake, will you stop?!" she shrilled and tossed her arms up in the air. "Stop telling me that I need to be in bed. It's bloody exhausting. I'm fine. I just…I just…I need to go to Diagon Alley."
"You are in no condition-"
"Then come with me if you're so fluffing worried. But with or without your approval, I'm going. I need a wand, and it's not up for debate."
Blaise scratched the back of his neck with, exasperation in his demeanor. "If you're recognized, the press will be alerted, and you'll be swarmed within minutes. They're still out there."
Hermione folded her arms and jutted out her chin. "It's been nearly six weeks. Hasn't anything better happened?"
"Well, the story did take the back burner for a few days when there was a national recall on all Nimbus racing brooms. That blew over fairly quickly, especially when people found out that you were no longer in the States and started assuming you were here. Furthermore, Lucius and Narcissa think it's best to go public with Alex at Christmas."
"What does that mean?" the boy asked from behind his mom. "Going public?"
His question went unanswered, his mother leaping in to bicker with Blaise at an impressive speed. "I don't feel comfortable with that at all. It's one thing to stay until Christmas. I may be persuaded to do that, but having everyone gawk at my son like he's an animal at the zoo is not okay. This can wait longer. I brought him here, so…so…You know? I can't even remember why I agreed to even come. What was I thinking? Everything has gone wrong since setting foot back in England." Rubbing her forehead, she sucked in a sharp, swollen breath. "Why did Draco's parents have to find out about him?"
"But, Mom, they're not that bad," Alex chirped. He came up beside her and rested his head against her hip and hugged her. "They tell me stories of Daddy. Like this one time, when Daddy had been little. Even littler than me. He got ink on his hands and put handprints all over the portraits in the manor. Grandmother really likes that story and so does Grandfather, but he won't say he does."
Gliding her fingers over his shorn locks, she beamed down at her boy and knelt down to grab his hands, placing kisses on his palms. She recalled a tale from Draco years before on how he overtook the manor with his handprints, unaware that his son had overheard in the next room.
"I remember a little boy, not too much younger than you, who did that back home to Mummy's freshly painted walls," she said admonishingly.
Alex dropped his chin and widened his eyes, a petulant pout forming, so she grinned at him and cupped his face, placing a kiss on each cheek before hugging him tightly. Her heart warmed as he contently rested his head on her shoulder, feeling puffs of hot breath on her the side of her neck, being reminded of when he'd been a baby.
It pained her to realize that he was no longer a squirming little body with dribbles and strings of drool oozing out of his grinning mouth. Yes, he would always be her baby, but he wasn't actually one. One day he wouldn't need for her to hold him like this anymore.
"Let me look at you again," she said, casting a side glance at Blaise, mentally telling him to go away so she could spend private time with her son
"Draco demanded that I take you to him," he said.
"He can wait," she coolly replied. "I'd like to talk with Alex for a little while. I barely got to see him earlier before you so rudely argued with me to the point of exhaustion."
Blaise gave her a face and stalked out, muttering insults at her under his breath. Hermione then walked over to the door and closed it and started towards the bed. She'd willingly drink a potion, its only purpose turning skin the color of mashed-pea green before she'd admit to anyone she wanted to rest almost more than anything.
"Darling, come lay next to, Mummy." She patted the bed and climbed up on it, Alex following close behind.
When the two were situated next to each other, both of their heads resting on a pillow with their fingers interlocked, Hermione got an up close view of the boy's shorn head. There was absolutely not a single coiled strand on his scalp. In fact, his hair was so short, it looked like someone had taken one of those Muggle salon contraptions and buzzed his head. This pissed her off due to having spoken with other mums who had chosen to give their curly-haired young sons close-to-the-scalp haircuts, and never again were the boys' hair the same.
It wasn't simply that Hermione adored her son's loopy strands because they were positively the most precious things she ever laid eyes on. Seriously, he was the perfect image of a cherubic angel. No, it wasn't just that. His hair gave her reassurance there was still some Granger in those genes.
That Alex wasn't all Malfoy.
"Oh, sweetheart," she lamented and ran a finger over his buzz-cut, the short stubby strands thick and sharp. "How could you let them cut your hair so short?"
"I told them," he hastily informed, a slight indigent whine in his tone. "I really did. I told Grandfather that you wouldn't like it being so short, but he wouldn't listen because Grandmother really wanted it to look like this. She said that Daddy had his hair this short most of the time when he was my age. They said something about…not as much maint-en-ance or something."
Hermione snorted at that dose of hypocrisy. The Malfoys wrote the book on being high-maintenance, and Draco had been solid proof on that matter.
Which reminded her…
"I'll tell you about high-maintenance, Button, concerning your father," she said, a small wicked smile in place. She'd get to asking questions about her absence during the past month in a little while, but now she really just wanted to spend time with him without Blaise or Draco's parents hiding around the corner.
"What did he do?" asked Alex, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Chuckling, she recounted the tale almost forgotten, leaving out the more intimate parts, and sugar-coating it to a child-friendly level.
April 2004
"Honeymooners," a voice murmured and caught Hermione's attention. Flushing, she reluctantly tore her lips away from Draco's and bashfully looked out from the corner of her eye and noticed many stares directed their way. Not that she could blame them, they were in semi-public setting after all, and snogging unabashedly in a populous hotel lobby was going to turn a few heads.
Draco grunted his dismay of her lack of participation and travelled his lips down to her jaw and then neck, gathering a small expanse of skin between his teeth. Hermione willed her eyes to remain open but failed to hold back the whimper torn from her throat.
"Can't you wait for a few more minutes?" she asked breathily. "The front desk is over there, and I'm afraid we'll get asked to leave if we don't-"
"Hush."
Hermione frowned at the impolite demand and pushed at his shoulders. "Besides, you're squishing the baby."
"He's fine. Hasn't made a peep."
"Not that he could. You're practically suffocating him," she retorted and forced him away to have a proper look-see at Alex. He was wrapped snuggly around her torso in his Bali-Baby Stretch, his head leaning sideways and eyes closed. The pacifier in his mouth bobbed vigorously in his mouth, the outer rim of the guard momentarily pressing into the baby's chubby, flushed cheeks with each earnest suck.
"Not Honeymooners," another voice muttered at seeing the child.
"Why kind of weirdo makes out with his wife in public?" scoffed a young man and Hermione looked at him and glared. How rude! A decent man snogged his wife anywhere he bloody well pleased. Not that she was Draco's wife, but if she had been…
Grabbing Draco's face, she pressed her palms into his cheeks laid a good one on him before saying into his mouth, "I'm glad we're here. This was a good idea."
"This isn't even the best part." He turned her around to face the front desk, slipping his palms in the back pockets of her trousers to push her along, giving her bum a gentle squeeze with each step. When they came to front desk, the clerk made an uncomfortable 'ahem' sound and eyed them pejoratively with an arched brow.
"Can I help you?" he asked slowly and then sniffed, glancing at the baby like the child would then decide to wake up and vomit all over the place.
"I made a reservation under Black," Draco said.
Hermione stiffened at his words and slowly craned her head and narrowed her gaze at him in suspicion. "Ah, Mr. Black. So wonderful of you to be joining us this evening. Here is your key." The clerk slid a brass key towards them. "I hope your stay is enjoyable. If there is anything you need, let us know."
Before accepting the key, Draco verified, "I trust the room is equipped with everything I specified."
The clerk smiled tightly and said, "Though Thwait Hotel and Resort is not designed for infants, all the essentials are in place."
"Good. I assume the luggage will be brought up. I expect it there in a timely matter."
Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes as Draco took the key from the counter. He then grabbed her hand and led her towards the elevator. As the door closed, giving them privacy, she asked edgily, "Why did you use the Black name?"
Draco quirked the left corner of his mouth and explained, "Well, I bloody can't well use my real name, can I? Draco Malfoy is supposed to be in Berlin meeting with Rudolph Schultz, a near bankrupt individual looking to sell his cure for baldness."
"I guess that makes sense?" She nodded and placed a hand on Alex's curly head while taking a few steps backwards to rest her back against the wall to take some pressure off her spine. Her baby was a little too big to be carried around in such a way but was more convenient for all three of them. Alex tended to wander off when not being contained by an adult. Plus, he was sleeping, and the Bali-Baby Stretch accommodated him more comfortably than a parent's tiring arms.
"I can't believe you slept so long?" she cooed at her son and petted his hair, stooping her chin to place a kiss on his head. "Must've be tired."
When they got to their floor, they quickly found their room, Draco shoving the key into the glossy golden knob and turning it. As they entered, Hermione smiled at the widely open-spaced entrance leading into a cozy sitting room with chocolate-brown leather couches and a sparkly coffee table that had a bottle of champagne with two glasses. The walls, from what she could see, were painted an ivory-creamy color that met with squishy soft carpet a shade lighter than the furniture.
"This is nice. Wonder what the bedroom looks like," Hermione said aloud and tossed a suggestive look at Draco who was scowling at his surroundings. "What's wrong?"
"It's small," he told her. "Smaller than your flat."
"Hotel rooms aren't usually bigger than an apartment, Draco," Hermione chuckled and took a seat on the couch, awkwardly leaning back to keep Alex comfortable.
"What hotels have you been staying in?" he challenged and snorted at the complimentary champagne and glasses.
"Which ones have you been staying in?" she shot back and shook her head and grinned up at him, holding out her hand to him. Their fingers interlocked and she said, "This is fine. Really. It's very nice. Thank you for taking Alex and me to Augusta for a vacation. Maine is really lovely, and this is truly one of the nicest rooms I've ever been in, and I bet it has a very nice view from the bedroom balcony."
"You must've stayed in shite-infested hotels. This a mating ground for peasants. You deserve better," he sneered and turned up his nose.
Alarmed at his words, she yanked her hand out of his and struggled to get to her feet. It was like being nine months pregnant all over again.
"You are truly unbelievable. This room is perfectly adequate for our needs, and we don't need anything better. I don't need anything better, and neither does Alex. It's not like we're going to live here for the rest of our lives. Besides, we haven't even seen the rest yet. I'm sure the bed is accommodating and the bath, too"
"There's no need. A hotel suite is all about first impressions and from what I've seen, I'm disappointed. There's no way I can shag you here and not feel like the walls are closing in on me. We're going back down to the front desk and demanding a better room. For Merlin's sake, this is a joke."
"You're a joke, Malfoy." Hermione cocked her hips and placed her hands on them. "You're a joke and a spoilt brat. There are people in the world that could only dream of staying in a room like this. In fact, we passed some on the street outside. People without proper homes and with children to feed. Why are you being like this?"
Draco lowered his focus onto her shoes and shrugged, eventually revealing, "I'm trying to impress you."
"Impress me? You think you can buy my astonishment? I'm sorry, but after Alex, there's nothing you can give me that'll make me love you even more. You've brought me to my limit, Draco Malfoy."
It was supposed to be a romantic gesture, telling Draco that she couldn't possibly love him more. The mood was supposed to be set, and he should have caved and escorted her to the bedroom. But no. Instead, his brows popped towards his hairline as his mouth thinned into a line of neutrality.
"We'll just see about that, won't we?" he growled whilst grabbing her hand again and dragging her out of the room and down the hallway, returning to the elevator.
"Let go of me. You're going to wake the baby," Hermione susurrated and glanced down at Alex, the boy shifting and rubbing his eyes. His binky sprung from his mouth and dangled from the Velcro strap on his collar, a pout formed on his lips. "And if you wake him, so help me, I will not let you touch me at all your entire time with me. It will be just you and your hand for the rest of the trip and until November, you vicious prat."
Expectedly, Draco slowed at the threat but still maneuvered her into the elevator. He pushed the button for the lobby and snarled at her which dissolved when hearing a whimpering cry from Alex. The man's eyes widened in horror and then cringed when an ungodly shriek projected from his son's throat.
The elevator dinged at the main level and the door slid open to reveal a group of witch's and wizards waiting to get on the lift.
"Uh…We'll just use the other one," a gentleman yelled over the baby's wailing and shooed the group to the side.
Hermione covered her blushing face and peered angrily at Draco through her split fingers.
"Bullocks," he cursed and stomped his foot before stabbing the level eight button to return to their room.
Present Day
Alex lay sleeping next to Hermione, having fallen unconscious when she had told him his father had not liked the room at Thwait Hotel and Resort. He was curled on his side with his right arm bent and tucked beneath his head while his other hand was still interlaced with his mom's.
Kissing his forehead, she slid out of the bed and towards the double doors leading to the hallway. Quietly, she closed the doors behind her and tiptoed down the hallway, relieved to find the Malfoy Family Portraits were still silenced.
Hermione hoped she didn't run into the Malfoys or Blaise in search for the Lucius' office. She assumed the elder's quarters dwelt on the first floor, the problem being she was unsure of how to get there. She had never been on the fourth floor and had only gotten to the third level where Draco's room dwelt. Eventually, she found a staircase after a few minutes of searching.
Once arriving to the main level, she poked her head around the corner and saw that the staircase led her to the dining room which was thankfully vacant of any life, save for a series of portraits high up on the walls bordering the ceiling. This place she remembered and fled into the hallway, passing the Reception Hall and stopped to scratch her head and pensively gnaw on her lip. Her eyes met with portrait occupant closest to her which was of a young man around sixteen who looked remarkably like Draco had fifteen years prior. The boy smirked at her and lazily roamed his eyes up her night-robe clad form and mouthed, 'Vous êtes assez.'
"Do you understand English?"
The young man nodded, his eyes trained on her chest. Hermione folded her arms and smiled forcefully. "Good. Can you help me?"
"Thank you," Hermione said to the young man. He currently was occupying a portrait of an older gentlemen, and they were both shouting at each other in silence, poking each other in the chest and completely ignoring her.
The boy in the portrait had led her to the double-doors of Lucius' office. After pressing her ear against the wood and praying that it was safe to enter, desperately fearing that Draco's parents would be in there, as well, she chanced it and opened the door enough to squeeze inside the room. Warmth from the lit fireplace washed over her body, and she scanned the area, pleased to find herself alone.
"Who's there?"
Draco's voice washed over her, causing Hermione to shiver equally from anxiety and joy. Bucking up her courage, she emerged from the shadows of the doorway and into the glowing light of the flames. She padded farther into the room, her bare feet making light smacking sounds, and turned her head to the right and looked up to meet his unflinching, steely gaze.
To be continued...