A/N: I would just like to begin saying how sorry I am for the delay in posting. These past two months have been extremely busy and stressful for me and my family. My dad had open-heart surgery in July and was in recovery for a long time, and I had to be away from home for quite a while. In August, I went out state for a week and was without my computer. When I returned, my fall semester started up.
Continuing with this story was always in the back of my mind, and I was able to write bits and pieces here and there, but I'm just so glad to have finally finished a chapter that I pray will be good enough to appease my curious readers. I'm aware I left my last chapter on a cliff-hanger, and I do apologize.
Thank you: Guest, alina290, Bob-geko, Anjali K., Angelus Draco, Musette Fujiwara, klara, BeWhoYouAre99, Angel Girl5, hkmac, and MMWillow13 for the reviews.
To alina290: We shall see if Hermione caved and gave Draco a little something, something on their vacation in another chapter. And we'll talk about Luna's guardian status (if she has any) hopefully in the next chapter.
To bob-geko: Thank you for reading this story. I agree and have said it before, the summary is not at all pleasing to the eyes. Who on earth would read this? But yet, you and others have, and I'm so grateful. Thank you so much for your wonderful review.
To hkmac: It's a good question as to why no one Accio-ed Hermione's wand, but I tried answering it in this chapter. I agree that I made her less hostile in the last chapter(and even so in this one). I was going for exhausted, but I think her passive nature that will change within the next couple of chapters.
I'm sorry for any mistakes. Now on with the show! Read and review. Please let me know your thoughts. :)
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.
"Bloody hell," the man cursed from his one-dimensional setting, causing Hermione to flinch at his abrupt crass words. Out of everything she thought he would have said to her, that phrase was not it.
"Draco," she wheezed, unable to respond in a proper even tone which was completely absurd. If she was being brutally and painfully honest with herself, the man in the portrait was nothing but a small fraction of the life portrayal. In almost every way, this was not the man she loved but a trick trapped inside a frame, taunting her. She couldn't touch him. She couldn't kiss him. If her fingers were to reach for him, paint-textured canvas would greet the tips.
"You sure did take your time making your way down here," he said crossly and she blinked, the sting of pitiful tears increasing. Sniffling, she turned away with a hand above her heart. It ached, overfilled with mourning.
"You're not real," she whispered and shook her head, salty drops cascading down her cheeks.
"I'm real enough," she heard him say and she chanced facing him again, thinking his portrait was too perfect and not at all life-like. His white-blond hair was perfectly combed, not a strand out of place. His eyes were some sort of grey but not at all like Draco's had been when alive, and his skin tone was two shades darker than what the pale hue had been like when alive.
"You are barely a memory," she said jadedly and wrapped her arms around herself, guilt consuming her at seeing the man's offended expression. She shook her head once more, this time out of perplexity. "You told me you didn't want this. Remember when you told me you didn't want to have a portrait done of you."
"And I didn't," Draco agreed evenly. "But I really didn't have a say after I died. Mother and Father knew of my wishes. Obviously they cared much about my opinion."
"You could leave." The words spilled out of her mouth as if on their own accord and hurriedly sprinted closer to Draco's portrait above the mantel and placed her hands there to stabilize herself, still weak from being comatose for so long. "I didn't mean that," she croaked and then pleaded through heaving sobs, "Don't leave. Not again. I miss you. I miss you so much."
"Tears for me," he whispered gently down to her, "now that I'm gone."
She reached a hand towards his framing, barely able to brush her middle finger against the gold. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If I could take it all back…" Her sentence fell short, and she refused to say the rest out loud. Instead, she hoped the regret in her eyes was clear enough for him to see.
He observed her in silence, his blank expression carving holes inside her chest. Was he still so angry with her, even in death?
"I love you," she admitted in a soft, breathy voice. "But it doesn't matter now, I suppose. And I know I deserve your anger, but I was just," she sucked in sharply and looked away, "scared. I always had been, but after Eliza, I couldn't do it anymore. You understood that."
"If you would have only let me, we could have resolved all of our problems."
Draco's voice was firm and thoughtful, yet his words were repetitive, reminding her of the rows they had over the same things. A part of her expected this. Even though she loved and missed him dearly, death had done nothing to lower their pride. They were constant in standing their grounds, thinking themselves right.
Apologizing to Draco was only a fraction of what the man deserved, but Hermione would be lying if she told him she fully regretted not marrying him. Consciously, she was aware of how selfish that was, but Alex danced around in her vision. Her unintentional five-week stay then clouded her thoughts. Blaise and Draco's parents had looked after her son, and she knew they all cared for him and built a somewhat stable environment around him, so he could thrive. She could not deny the undoubted love her son received while in their care. Mister and Misses Malfoy had taken to Alex given the circumstances of Draco. Would they have if he never died? Perhaps.
But where did that leave Hermione?
Maybe this was the core reason she refused Draco. If she had accepted his proposal and returned to England with intent to marry, where would it have left her? Where would the Muggle-Born with no elite heritage be left? A breeding mare for a king? Her only purpose in life to bear a prince? Her son would grow and accomplish and inherit a life with no place for her in it. In a theoretical existence or presently.
"You thought getting married would have fixed everything," she accused sadly and then confessed, "It wouldn't have for me. I was wrong to think Alex wouldn't belong here, and I'm coming to realize that. But, Draco, I don't belong here. I don't fit in with your family or your friends. I wish I could tell you I regret not complying with your proposals, but I can't. I would have been miserable here. England is not my home anymore and it never will be again." Wiping her cheeks, she stepped back and hugged herself. "I have a life in Salem as does Alex. We will stay for Christmas, but afterwards we will leave. When our son is ready, he'll come back."
"Hermione," he croaked, his face crumpled. "I won't-"
"There you are," assessed a voice from the office entrance. Hermione turned to see Blaise marching into the room.
"This may come as a shock to you, Zabini, but Hermione and I were having a private moment," growled Draco, glaring at his best friend.
"I'm sure it was, and I apologize for my intrusion, but your parents have returned and I suspect your father's tolerance for Hermione's presence will seize if he finds her in his office without his consent, regardless you two produced offspring."
"I guess I should go. I left Alex in my room. I don't want him to wake up alone." Hermione started backing away from the portrait and closer to Blaise. She didn't want to leave as of yet and had so much more to say but knew it would have to wait. Before leaving, she asked Draco one last question. "What were you going to say?"
Draco sighed and offered a small strained smile. "Nothing. I'm just relieved that you're awake. You had me worried."
"Are you hungry?" Blaise asked as he escorted her back to her room. When they approached the stairs, his arm linked with hers and slowly took the first step.
Stealing back her arm, she said, "I'll be fine. As for be hungery…" she debated the idea of eating a meal and nodded. "Something small and bland, please."
"Lucius and Narcissa expect you to dine with them tonight," explained Blaise as they finished the first set of stairs. Hermione's heart thudded from the simple task and slowed to take her breath.
"Why? Are they planning on eating me for dinner? Should've done it earlier when I was fatter and unconscious," she wheezed, chuckling mirthlessly to herself. With her energy deflating and perhaps her pride, as well, her head tilted to rest on the side of Blaise's arm. They both stopped where they were, halfway through the second set of stairs. The wizard once again snaked his arm around her but this time pulling her into an embrace. It was strange and felt inappropriate but almost necessary because she allowed her face to be smashed against his chest, the undoubtedly expensive suit muffling her cries.
"What's wrong?" Blaise dared ask, knowing the woman in his arms was capable of giving him a list of reasons as long as Merlin's beard. Had the reunion with Draco been that unfortunate? When he had interrupted their conversation, they appeared weren't arguing, although Hermione had clearly been emotional. As for Draco, he appeared conflicted and disheartened. Blaise could not help but feel that it would have been more comforting in hearing them fight than seeing both of them in such states of anguish.
"Everything," Hermione whispered and then added, "Me."
Blaise thought to speak the contrary even though his words would be lies, and he refused to mock her by doing so. Instead, he urged her up the stairs and directed her back to her room where Alex slumbered, his small body stretched out with widely-spread limbs and a soft snore puffing out of his mouth. His cheeks were flushed with sleep-warmth, and his darling sweater-vest and tie was askew.
"I'd like to return to your place," she told Blaise softly while carefully lowering her body into one of the chairs next to the bed. The cushion was soft and molded to her bum and back. Sighing in comfort, she rested her head and stared wistfully at the wizard. "Please."
The man slid into the seat next to her, a frown in place. "I think the Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy would prefer your company for the rest of the month."
Rolling her eyes and smiling softly, she quietly told him, "I highly doubt that, Zabini." She knew very well it was not her they wanted to stay for the rest of the month. Their generosity towards her was not necessarily for her benefit but for Alex's alone.
"Fine, I won't play along with them. They clearly want Alex around for as long as possible. I think they know you want to leave and are bent on doing so after Christmas. I'm sure they know it would be a tiring task in manipulating you into staying any further. I, for one, still have leverage over you, Miss Granger. Or have you forgotten?"
"You're despicable," Hermione groaned.
"I was speaking in jest." He cupped her hand resting on the armrest and squeezed it gently.
"I'm still upset with you," she said but did not move her hand away. "For everything. For letting Alex be taught by tutors I did not approve of, for letting those awful people cut my boy's hair, and for making me pass out."
"I didn't make you pass out," he sputtered and grabbed one of her curly locks and yanked on it with a little force. She glared at his hand and batted it away before delivering a slap on his arm.
"Did, too, prat." She then deflated and cast a jealous look at her son, yearning for another nap. But her eyes drifted to the opposite door near the corner where she assumed a bath and a shower dwelt. She didn't feel particularly filthy, yet sponge-baths done by faithful house-elves could only do so little. A shower sounded lovely.
"Knut for your thoughts," offered Blaise.
"I should get cleaned up. Um…" She swept her gaze over the room and asked, "Are there any clothes I can change into for the evening?"
"I'll have one the elves bring your something," the man said and stood up from his chair, his stance awkward and sort of conflicted. "You won't need any help…in there, will you?"
"I think I'll be fine."
Once Blaise left, she circled the bed and leaned over to brush a kiss against Alex's forehead before opening the lavatory door and closing it behind her. The room was not as luxurious as Draco's, but it was still much more impressive than hers back home. Unlike Draco's, this loo's theme was warm colors with many fragrant candles and burgundy and brown colors. The smell wafting from the candles gave a pleasant festive scent of cinnamon and fresh pine. She inhaled deeply and her lungs quaked. One hand flew to her chest as the other braced herself on the counter as she coughed deeply and painfully. The sore tissue beneath her ribcage trembled, and the back of her throat gagged at the feeling of solid-like chunks tickling the back her throat. Hurriedly, she stooped over the sink and wretched the bothering bits along with the broth and crackers she had consumed a few hours before. Disgusting tears and snot streamed down her face as she attempted to regain control.
Her stomach quaked and clenched at the sight of the crimson lumps in her sick. Turning on the faucet and washing away the shame, she recalled Healer Bogrov's words on how her lungs would mostly likely discharge bloody bits sticking to the scar tissue for the next week or so.
The hot water descending from the shower head felt divine on her skin, but she could not help but study her body and what five weeks of ketosis had done to it. Her hands roamed her stomach, hips, and thighs and exhaled in displeasure at how unattractive she looked. Even though she reckoned she weighed as much as she did in her last year at Hogwarts, her skin was sickly pale and limbs were thin and squishy from the absence of muscle activity. Draco was probably mortified to see her this way. And though her face was not that unpleasant to behold, the man had made it clear that as much as he adored her 'doe eyes, cute nose, and small pretty mouth', he loved her body, specifically her bum and breasts.
Craning her head around, she glared down at her derriere and sneered at the flatness of it. She then turned her attention to her chest and knew not only was she going to need a new wand but new clothes and especially new underwear.
After her shower, she found a soft, fluffy towel in one of the cupboards and dried off before wrapping it around her and popping her head into the bedroom where Alex continued to sleep. She then spotted on the chair closest to the bathroom door a plain white box with her name on a folded card perched on top of it. Grabbing it, she returned to the loo and opened it. Inside was a white, silk modest nightdress and was not exactly what Hermione wanted. She pictured something like a pair woolen trousers and a shirt.
Never mind of her feelings towards the nightdress, she slipped it on and pulled out the light blue silk robe it came with. At the bottom of the box, a pair of knitted, house shoes greeted her and she put them on, as well.
After combing her hair and swishing her mouth with teeth-cleaning potions, she reentered the bedroom and crawled on top of the bed and nudged her son awake.
"Sweetheart," she cooed and cuddled next to him. "Will you wake up for Mummy?"
An indigent groan left his throat as he flopped over onto his side facing her. She grinned and poked his belly and then his nose before scooting closer and holding him. With his eyes still closed, his arms reached out for her and his head rooted closer to her sternum. When finding comfort, he sighed contently and resumed snoring softly.
"Wake up," she said and wiggled her own body to rouse his own.
"No." His bottom lip puckering in ire.
"Yes, or I'll have to kiss you to death." At that, she peppered small pecks around his face, uncaring of his peeved noises.
"Mom," he whined, his eyes fluttering open to reveal his bemused, dark grey eyes. He rubbed them with a balled fist and yawned. He smacked his lips together and hooded his eyes. "I'm tired. Let me sleep."
"You can't sleep all day, Button, or you won't get any rest tonight. Don't you want dinner?"
"Yeah," he said petulantly and sulked. "I want to see Daddy again, too. I like talking to Daddy."
"I bet he enjoys talking to you, too."
The man had missed so much of Alex's childhood, and despite the portrait not really being all of Draco, it could be enough for now for the both of them. And she wouldn't spoil his anticipation by informing him of their immediate leave back to Salem after Christmas. For now, she would let him be happy given the circumstances.
"Should we go explore down stairs?" she offered.
With the help of her son, they found the main level with ease where he grabbed her hand and tugged at her arm, pointing to the left where a wide hallway was seen. Excitement in his voice, he declared, "The library is gigantic, Mom. I want to show you. It's so big!"
And, indeed, it was. Breath catching in her throat, Hermione goggled at her surroundings, feeling like Belle in Beauty & the Beast because it was really that exquisite. As Alex hopped up and down at her reaction, she turned in a circle to soak in all of her surroundings. Never before had she seen so many books in one place. This was by far much larger than the Hogwarts library. It could possibly be larger than the ministry's.
"Do you like it?" the child asked and placed a cheek on her stomach. He peered up at her with solemnity beyond his eight years.
"I do," she said in reverence and swept her vision across the books again. They room was gargantuan and oval-shaped with four levels stacked with books reaching all the way up to the stained-glass ceiling. The window portrayed a slumbering cobra snake in a patch of grass surrounded by white lilies.
"Good," Alex said and hugged her middle. "Grandfather says that this will all be mine when I grow up. He says that he and grandmother are going to leave the manor when I graduate from Hogwarts, and it will be mine. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the place. It's really big and kind of creepy, but I know what I want to do with the library."
"And what's that?" she asked and cupped the back of his head lovingly.
"I'm going to give it to you. I don't need all these books. Grandfather says that half of them aren't even in English but in French. You read French, don't you Mom?"
"Sweetheart." She knelt down and cupped his shoulders, an intense feeling of love, almost painful, washed over her. A bloated balloon like feeling pressed against her chest as tears threatened to trickle down her cheeks. How was she supposed to explain to him that she didn't want the library? But not just that. How was she supposed to tell him that he would not be attending Hogwarts but would finish his education in the States? How was she supposed to tell him that when it was time for him to return to England, he was going alone?
"Thank you," she managed to croak. It was not the time to tell him everything yet.
He stepped forward and encircled her neck with his arms and said, "I'm so happy you woke up, Mom. I love you so much, and I want to give you everything."
His words popped the balloon inside her chest and out of her control, the floodgates opened and she sobbed, wondering what magnificent thing had she done to deserve such a wonderful little boy. It was dumbfounding to think that something someone so selfish and another so egotistical could create something so perfect.
"Oh, sweetheart," she blubbered. "I don't need anything. You're all that I need and more."
Blaise found Hermione and Alex in the library at the boy's desk. The child sat in his seat with an open book in front of him as he read to her. Silently, he tuned in and was surprised by the choice his literature. Blaise was also pleased by the boy's advancements in his reading ability. Hogwarts, A History was not a light read.
"Telling your mum about the Hogwarts Houses, are you?" he inquired while swaggering in. He summoned a chair and placed it next to Hermione's and sat down. She gave him a brief wary glance but then urged her son to continue his reading with a nod.
"The Sorting Hat, said to be bewitched by the four founders of Hogwarts, sorts Fist Year students into their respected Houses," Alex recited slowly and thoughtfully. He looked up from the yellowing pages and asked his mother, "What House were you sorted into, Mom?"
"I was sorted into Gryffindor, sweetheart." Her eyelids fluttered shut and her shoulders sagged, a tired smile gracing her lips. "A very long time ago. Twenty years ago, in fact."
"You're making us look old, Granger," Blaise accused and chuckled, shaking his head and wondering where the years had vanished off to. Had it truly been so long when he had sat on that stool in the Great Hall where that ugly, hideous hat had told him he'd had the mind of a Ravenclaw but the heart of a Slytherin?
Ruefully, he divulged the information to them. Being sorted was a personal, almost intimate experience. Very few shared the personal conversation they had with the Sorting Hat, but Blaise was amongst those who he trusted with the knowledge. Seriously, what was Granger going to do? Go running off and gossip to Narcissa? Pretty damned unlikely.
"I remember when I was sorted," Blaise started, earning an interested glance from Hermione. He asked her, "Don't you remember when I was sorted?"
"I don't remember even seeing you until our Sixth Year. I thought you were a transfer student from Beauxbaton," she dryly stated. "It was Draco that had to inform me you were actually around all that time."
Blaise scowled at that. How could she have not noticed him? He had been the most attractive male at the bleedin' school for Salazar's sake! Just because he didn't wave his arms and back and forth like a fluffing lunatic in class trying be a kiss-arse…Bloody bint, anyway.
"Well," he coughed uncomfortably and smiled forcefully at Alex, "You're father was aware of my presence along with the rest of the female population, excluding your mother." Hermione made a scoffing noise, but he continued. "Anyway, I already knew what House I wanted to be in."
"Which one?" blurted Alex. "Did you get into the one you wanted?"
Sparing Hermione a look, he said, "Yes and no," getting a perplexed expression from the boy.
"Explain," Hermione said, curiosity lighting up her features.
"Ever since I was little, even before I was as old as you, I wanted to be in Ravenclaw," he professed and the witch next to him cocked an eyebrow in dubiety. "It's true. My father…my real father had been a Ravenclaw, and I wanted to be in the same House he had been. I lost him when I was very small, and I felt if I was sorted into his former House, then I would be closer to him."
"Was Ravenclaw cool?" chirped Alex. "But I could've sworn you were in another house. Anyway, do you think I'll be in Ravenclaw?" He flipped through some of the pages of the book in front of him. "I think I read somewhere that it was for really smart people."
"Which is why I'm guessing you didn't make the cut," taunted Hermione in that blasted self-righteous tone of hers.
"Mom," chided Alex with a frown. "That's not very nice."
"Out of the mouth of babes," Blaise said with a smirk. "I'll have you know, Granger, I'm brilliant. Now I may have not received the honor of being Valedictorian or even Salutatorian, but I was not without uni offers after graduation. But back to the point. Alex, the Sorting Hat looks into your mind and in your heart. It knows what you want, but most importantly, it knows what you need. I was placed in Slytherin with your dad."
"Awesome," Alex whispered in humbled awe. He then pinned his wide-eyed gaze on his mother. "What happened when you got sorted? Tell me, please."
"When I got sorted?" she squeaked and shifted in her seat. "Maybe I'll tell you some other time."
"But when you say that, I forget and don't ask again. Please, please, please tell me."
"I was put in Gryffindor, Alex. You know that. I just barely said so."
"Yes, but what did that Hat say to you?"
"Nothing." Hermione patted him on the hand.
Alex's brow furrowed and he closed the book and pushed it away. "You were in Gryffindor, and Dad was in Slytherin. What House will I be in?"
"You'll make a wicked Slytherin, mate," Blaise said and then sobered at the boy's continual sulk.
"But Mom's in Gryffindor." He looked at her and said, "I don't want to make you mad if I'm not in it."
Hermione shook her head and wanted to tell him he had nothing to worry about because he wasn't going to attend Hogwarts and, therefore, would not be sorted and have to deal with parental expectations and ridiculous House rivalry. Theoretically, she cared little of what House he could be sorted into. They were all adequate in their own right, Slytherin included.
"Don't worry about it now, love. It's years away."
Alex recited from Hogwarts, A History for ten more minutes before a house-elf entered the library informing them it was time for dinner.
"I feel silly wearing this," Hermione told Blaise while they exited the library. She lifted her silk-sleeved arm and dangled the baggy fabric it in front of his face. "The Malfoys couldn't possibly approve of such attire at the dinner table."
"It was Mrs. Malfoy that gave you such attire, Granger. I confess, it's not proper etiquette to arrive for dinner in nightclothes, but they are aware of your situation. She debated offering you some of her daily-wear but assumed you wouldn't fit in them."
"What happened to the clothes I wore when I fell into the river?"
"Those drenched rags were disposed of when they were cut off you. It's when we discovered that your wand wasn't on your person."
Hermione was quiet for a moment, rehashing the memory of falling into the river and hated how much clarity she had from the accident. She recalled seeing Alex, Blaise, and Theodore before the snow-covered ice gave out from under her. The icy waters hit her body like millions of sharp needles stabbing into her pores. The current had dragged her away from the hole she fell through, and she tried to blast another with her wand but watched helplessly as it slipped through her fingers. Her heavy cloak was soaked and added weight to her body. Though the current still pulled her away, she was sinking and running out of air.
"Blaise?" she asked quietly and petted Alex's head. He peered up at her with a tiny grin. "How did I get out?"
"I told you," the man said. "Theodore pulled you out."
"Theodore?" she repeated doubtfully as all three of them turned a corner. "Why on earth would he do that?" Belatedly, she mumbled to herself, "How on earth could he?"
Blaise pursed his lips and tossed her a look. "I think you know why. As for how, he was an idiot and dove in after you. It was so unlike him. I had never seen him act so reckless. I really thought that both of you… " He stopped there for the sake of Alex's ears. "He reemerged with you a ways down from where you fell through. He broke the ice with his wand and placed you on the ground where he performed a Reneverte. From there, you know the rest."
Alex's hand grabbed hers and squeezed tightly. She knelt down and placed a kiss on the bridge of his nose, her mind reeling from the information. Yes, before her accident, Blaise had somewhat told her that Theodore had feelings for her...or something. From how the man described it made Hermione think that Theodore was really intrigued by the color of her knickers—a pervert, maybe, but merely a person with a passing interest. Fellows like that tended to refrain from hopping into a frigid river to save someone.
"Miss Granger, it is so good to see you up and about," Lucius greeted from his place at the dining table. He raised his glass at her.
"Please sit." Narcissa gestured to one of the free seats. "You must be hungry."
The strain was barely evident in their seemingly gracious words, but Hermione was past the point of addressing it. So she returned their attempt and niceties with a tired smile and approached the seat farthest from the both of them. They each had their seat at the ends at the table, making it easy for her to choose the middle chair on the side.
Blaise came up behind her and pulled out the seat for her, and like a gentleman, cupping her hand as he guided her to sit. She only let him because, in fact, she fancied the idea of toppling over onto the intricate marble flooring for a nap and hoped her exhaustion wasn't too obvious to the couple. Predators like them usually preyed on the weak, not necessarily minding a challenge but never favoring inconveniences.
"Thank you," she told Blaise who took the seat next closest to Lucius as Alex occupied the one next to Narcissa, whose eyes shined brightly at the child. She ducked her head slightly and mouthed, I love you, and Hermione ignored the bitter feeling in her stomach at seeing that.
Lucius coughed, drawing the attention to him. He nodded in Hermione's direction and said, "I'm very pleased to have you with us, Miss Granger. This past month has not been easy on young Alexander, and I'm delighted to see him smile once more."
The image of unraveling her emerald-green cloth napkin and chucking the fork at Lucius' head filled her vision for a brief second. His go at kindness was making her nauseous, and she tried to give him kudos for attempting to be civil, but he was painfully obvious in his intentions. He was putting on a show for Alex. They all were. Well, maybe not Blaise. She internally smiled at the man's brutal and careless honestly. Since she woke up, he was truthful to her as far as she could tell. He hadn't been thoughtful when she asked about her wand and had plainly told her that Alex's tutoring began weeks ago.
"As am I," replied Hermione and caressed the back of head. He leaned into her touch and sighed, a lazy simper tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I'm to assume, Miss Granger," Narcissa began apprehensively, "that the healer informed you of your nourishment needs. I took the liberty of telling the kitchen-elves of your diet."
Right then, the elves appeared with levitating trays and lowered them so each person had a platter in front of them. Hermione had gotten her wish as she stared down at her meal, but she had pictured something like fluffy mashed potatoes with a side of steamed vegetables.
Experimentally, she poked her spoon at the dish and swirled the utensil around and saw that she got some sort of vegetables. Were those…broccoli florets? And what was that? Were those…oats?
Hermione frowned and wondered if Narcissa was being rude, covertly snide, or serious.
Dipping her spoon into the bowl, she brought out the soup mush like substance and nipped cautiously and was startled to finding it cold.
Making a face, she swallowed the small amount she had eaten and said, "It's a little cold."
And positively the worst thing I've eaten since your son tried fixing me bangers and mash!
"Oh, I should have warned you," Narcissa regretfully mentioned while cutting a small chunk off her piping hot lemon grilled chicken. "I read the pamphlet Healer Bogrov gave me, and it said that washed but uncooked vegetables would the best in receiving more nutrients. It mentioned it could rebuild your immune system."
Hermione did not miss the twinkle of mirth in the woman's blue eyes and inwardly growled at the audacious woman. It didn't help that Blaise was practically vibrating in the seat next to her from poorly-contained jollity.
Inhaling and smiling sweetly, she said, "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I'll most definitely need to rebuild my strength."
"Mom, what are you eating?" asked Alex as he leaned over to stick his nose into the bowl. "It looks really bad."
It did, too. The mush was currently separating from the broth, the chilled state failing to keep the contents united. It was the color of greenish brown and kind of stringy looking in some parts. Were those carrots?
"Oh, and Miss Granger?"
Hermione gratefully turned her head towards Lucius again, ecstatic in postponing eating anymore of whatever the hell was in front of her.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I had the privilege of speaking with Mr. Theodore Nott earlier. You remember him, correct?"
"Obviously," she said, almost tartly. "He did save me, or so I hear. Why?"
"He is relieved to hear you are awake and wants to speak with you. I'd like to think I wasn't too forward in extending an invitation for his company tomorrow."
"What would he like to speak with me about?" she asked, her brows knitting together in suspicion. She glanced at Blaise who was having a staring-contest with his Yorkshire pudding, a deep line creasing his brow.
"He didn't say," Lucius declared lightly, a soft chuckle in his throat, and Hermione knew that was lie if she ever heard one. "He'll be over around five in the evening, and I did tell him you'd want to see him. I know that was not my place to say such things, but it would be amiable in gifting him a thanks for saving your life, Miss Granger."
"Yes, I'd like to say so, too," Alex piped up hastily, bobbing his head up and down before stabbing his fork into a steamed piece of cauliflower and bringing it dutifully to his lips. His mouth puckered into a cute, little grimace and then deposited the vegetable into his mouth. He chewed slowly and unhappily.
Hermione supposed giving Theodore some gratitude for his idiotic, yet, heroic actions was fair. However, she wondered what he had to speak with her about. Obviously, the man had some romantic feelings towards her, but from what little she knew of Mr. Nott was that he represented the picture of composure and cold professionalism. He was not the type to make his thoughts known to others. Also, he was very much engaged to a beautiful witch who had made it abundantly transparent of her distaste for Hermione, thinking she and Draco had some sort of nasty love affair during his time with Astoria which was untrue. During Draco's and Astoria's relationship not once had he and Hermione participated in intimate actions. Although, there had been a time or two where the man attempted to seduce her despite having a girlfriend here in England
Easter 2008
Hermione sat at the park bench observing the little children running wild on the grass as they frantically searched for eggs. She glanced at her watch and caught sight of Alex who appeared to be burrowing in a bush, his jean-clad bottom sticking out of the green shrubbery. A small, but detached smile graced her lips as she looked away and caught sight of Rebecca Little walking up the park-pathway pushing a pram with her three-month old daughter snuggled cozily inside, a pink pacifier lodged deeply in her small mouth. The little baby had tiny Mary Janes on her feet, the color of bubble gum. On her small body, she had a soft, pink cotton dress with a frilly bonnet on her head. She was the perfect depiction of what all adults thought of when thinking about the baby girls: precious, delicate, frilly, and pink.
"Hermione." Mrs. Little stopped and smiled warmly at her, though Hermione saw the pity in her eyes. "How are you?"
"Good, good." Hermione nodded and wished the woman would take her kindness and her perfect baby girl and leave. "I'm just here with Alex and…" Hermione cast a side-glance at the man next to her. Well…not next to her. Three fully grown people could fit between her and Draco. Maybe four.
"Have fun. I hear they hid more eggs this year. Bet your little one will fill his basket to the brim. Well, I'll talk to you later."
Hermione watched the woman continue her jaunt down the pathway and bent over so her elbows were resting on her knees, feeling very tired and wishing she had never gotten out of bed that morning. She should have told Draco to take Alex to the Easter Egg Hunt and leave her be.
"How much more time is left?" he asked. His posture was lazy and disinterested, completed with a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes.
"Three or so minutes."
"Wonderful," he murmured and spared her look, his mouth twisted in a grim line. "We need to stop by the apothecary before we head back. You're out."
"I'm fine."
"How long have you been out?"
"It's none of your business," she told him curtly, tossing him a glare and watched him bare his teeth savagely. And even with his sunglasses covering his eyes, Hermione knew how furious he was with her. She was almost sure he reached the point of loathing her, and she wished she felt more hallow about it. But there was already a cancer-like disease eating up her insides, and it had no room for Draco's wrath.
"As long as Alex is in your care, it is my goddamned business," he hissed, his hand flying towards her to grip her arm. His fingertips dug into her skin. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp and scanned the area to see if anyone was seeing what Draco was doing to her. She gasped at feeling him brutally tug her arm and allowed him to yank her body towards his side. With his death grip still in place, he growled into her ear, "Listen, you thoughtless bitch, you will take your potion. Don't think for a bloody second that you have me fooled. I can tell you haven't been living up to what your healer prescribed so when this blasted thing ends, I'm dragging you to the apothecary where you will immediately starting taking it again. Is that clear?"
Hermione tried wrenching her arm out his hand and seethed, "I hate you."
Draco scoffed in disgust and let her go, muttering something under his breath.
The sound of a cowbell ringing made all the children in the park seize their search party and rush back to their parents to show off their collection of Easter eggs. Hermione rubbed at her bruising bicep and smiled the best she could as Alex sprinted over to her, his full basket swinging carelessly beside him.
"Mommy, look how many I found!" he squealed and placed the basket on her lap causing two chocolate eggs to spill over the edge. He situated himself between his parents and swung his dangling legs off the seat of the bench. He beamed up at his father and crawled towards him. "Isn't it cool, Daddy? I got so many!"
"That you did," drawled Draco and stood, picking up his son and twirling him around before securing him in a strong hold. "And when we get home, you can eat as many as you can, but first we need to stop by the marketplace and get your mother something."
"Can I get something, too?"
"You want something, too?" his father playfully asked in surprise. "Were the Easter presents not enough this morning? How about the eggs?"
Little shoulders shrugged, and Alex's bottom lip stuck out slightly. "Just something small."
"Oh, my boy," Draco said dotingly and patted his son on the back. "When have I ever gotten you something small? All right, I'll get you something."
Hermione stared up the pair from her place at the bench and remembered a time when the sight of them together, with Draco being loving and sweet and Alex being cherished and delighted, made a warm pool of anticipation spread throughout her womb. To put it plainly, the sight used to make your embarrassingly horny. Now she felt nothing.
She should be playfully chiding Draco about spoiling Alex and wagging her finger at the both of them, but there was no drive, no gumption on her part to do so.
The three of them travelled to the marketplace, the streets bustling with people holding shopping bags and wrapped gifts. Alex 'ooo-ed' at a gigantic stuffed Easter bunny a middle-aged woman was toting. It was bright yellow with a blue bow around its neck.
"Is that what you want?" asked the boy's father dubiously. "It's bigger than you and certainly not a suitable present for a proper boy of five."
"No." He grinned and shook his head and tightened his arm around his father's neck. "It's just really big, Daddy."
"That it is," agreed Draco. He craned his head as if to make sure Hermione was still close by and continued through the populous area. When they reached Smith's and Gillard's Apothecary, he opened the door to let her enter first. Once inside, he removed his sunglasses and slipped them on Alex who giggled and grabbed onto the frames to keep them on.
"I trust these people know what they're doing," Draco clipped, his grey eyes scanning the store with distrust. His hold on Alex visibly tightened the further they ventured into the establishment.
"Since the settlement, the Department of Health paid a visit to all the local apothecaries and supposedly gave the owners and staff lectures on being more careful and enforcing stricter codes. Needless to say, Smith and Gillard don't like me. None of the apothecary owners do."
"You are the least of their worries," Draco snarled. He marched passed the isles towards the back and arrived at the pickup station, glaring at Mr. Gillard.
"May I help you?" asked the man.
"I'm here to pick up my girlfriend's prescription."
Mr. Gillard gave him a shrewd look but then sighed in exasperation when seeing Hermione appear behind Draco's back.
"Oh, it's you," he grumbled and nodded. "I'll have your potions ready in ten minutes." He abandoned them at disappeared behind a swing door where Hermione caught a glimpse of a potion's lab.
"Are they all like that?" asked Draco.
"Yes."
"If they ever give you any problems," he started but never finished his threat because Alex patted his cheeks, giving him a cheeky grin.
"Will you get me the Little Wizard's Potion Play Set?"
A blond eyebrow arched at the question. "Potions are not to be played with, young man."
"There not like real grownup potions, Daddy. They don't go boom when I do something wrong. They'll just taste and look funny."
"Taste?"
"For Merlin's sake, Draco, it's a drinkable potion's set designed for children. It's meant to help children learn how to follow instructions for the most part. The worst thing that could happen is that he makes a potion that tastes like refried beans," snapped Hermione, impatiently. Was Draco truly so thick? Or just completely out of touch with children's toys?
A dark, blistering mask of fury smacked her in the face. Only by threads (Alex) was he holding on to keep from tossing profanities in her direction. He clenched his teeth together but did his best to smile at his son.
"Hey, Scorpius, why don't you lead the way? I'm sure what you want is here." He set the boy down and followed the toddling child around the corner, disappearing down some isle. While they were gone, Mr. Gillard returned to the counter with her potions for which she paid for.
"I was going to get that," announced Draco from behind her. Alex was behind him, awkwardly carrying a large, rectangular box the color of dark blue with green words that said Little Wizard's Potion Play Set with a moving picture of a boy and girl stirring liquid in small, steaming cauldrons.
"You can pay for that," Hermione griped, gesturing to Alex's gift.
"This is so awesome!" screeched Alex as he bolted into the house after Draco unlocked the door. He sneered in revulsion at his surroundings, detesting the house she chose to move into at the end of the summer the previous year. At Christmas, the man had claimed the small, cottage-like house unsuitable for his son and insisted she sell the place and search for a larger home. She had brushed off his demands and cared little of what he thought was suitable for Alex. What the hell did he know? He was never around.
Draco made sure Alex had toted his egg-basket and new play set into his room before gripping Hermione's wrist and slamming her against the door. She yelped in surprise and winced at the low-grade stinging in her back.
"Ow," she said and glared up at him. "Will you stop hurting me? My Gods, Draco, you're practically abusive."
Paying no mind to her comment, he reached into the medium-sized paper bag she was carrying that held her potions and snagged one of the vials. Keeping her body flat against the door, he pressed the glass against her lips and said, "Drink."
Cinching her lips together firmly, she moved her head from left to right.
"I will force this down your throat, you blithering twat."
"I'd love to see you try, bastard," Hermione taunted and laughed when Draco let go of her wrist to point his wand at her face. "Really? What are you going to do? Imperio me? If you did, I know a few people in law enforcement that would love to get their hands on someone like you." Her hand came to the cuff of his light polo sweater and upwardly tugged, but she flinched and shirked away when Draco's fist came flying towards her face. She closed her eyes, awaiting impact but the blow never arrived. Her eyelids flew open to see Draco backing away, a horrified expression on his face.
"I was going to…" he said and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I was going to do it. Granger, I'm…I'm sorry." His arms hung loosely at his sides, his wand and the vial occupying his hands. He lifted the one with the potion and weakly asked, "Why aren't you taking it?"
Guilt pricked at her and lulled her into telling him the truth. Thickly, she said, "I don't like the way they make me feel."
"And how is that?" he asked curiously, studying the pleasing, lime-green color of the liquid.
"It leaves me in a state of unnatural happiness. It gives me peace for no reason. I cannot live my life dependent on that potion. Last week I had a meeting with Alex's teacher who said that our son was not smart enough in continuing on to the next grade, and you know what I did? Nothing. I apologized on behalf of Alex and smiled! I am not drinking that! When I drink it, I'm not me anymore."
"You're not you now!" barked Draco. "Look at yourself, Hermione. I got here at ten o' clock in the morning, and you were still in bed, and Scorpius was making a mess in the kitchen trying to get himself a bloody bowl of cereal. I go into the bedroom thinking you were sick and find that you are awake but not at all put together. When you finally got out of bed, you didn't bother washing up or putting on decent attire or brushing your hair. You have completely let yourself go! It's not healthy and definitely not suitable for Scorpius. If I have to, I will intervene. If you give me no choice, I will take him from you."
Chest constricting at his words, Hermione growled and charged at him, using her fists and legs. She tried to claw and pound on his face, but he grabbed her hands which led her to bring her leg up between his and knee him in the groin. He must've seen this coming, for he dodged the blow and used the majority of his strength to lower her to carpet and pinning her there. She flailed her legs and yanked at her hands to retain some control.
"Get off of me!"
"If you don't want Scorpius to come in and see this, then I suggest you shut up and listen."
"I don't care if he sees this. He'll see that you're a monster."
His hands pressed into hers, squishing them into the flooring. She winced at the pressure and glared up at him. He was now sitting on her legs and staring down at her in perplexed inquiry.
"Tell me what I've done, Hermione. I know why you are upset but why are you angry with me? Sweetheart, you don't have to be. It won't solve anything because it's pointless, and you know it. I've done nothing wrong."
Hermione nodded in disagreement. She rasped out with watery eyes, "You weren't there."
"But that's not my fault," Draco spat and then relaxed. His hands left hers, and he climbed off her body, rolling on his side to lie on the floor next to her. "I would've been around for the entire thing if you had let me know." One of his hands reached over and rested on her belly, and her stomach lurched at the contact. Sniffling, she pushed it away and moved away from him.
"Please don't touch me."
But his fingers were relentless and found her left breast. He cupped it lovingly, his thumb brushing over the top and before she could even think to crawl away from him, he was flush against her side. Her eyelids fluttered closed causing her unshed tears to slip down the sides of her cheekbones and temples. She made a choking sound when feeling soft lips brush against her brow.
"We can fix this," he whispered. "Right now and right here. The healer said it was possible. Remember? He said you shouldn't have any problems in conceiving again if you chose to do so. We can make love right now and try again. Hell, we can go back to the apothecary and buy a load of fertility potions, and you can call Lovegood. She'll watch our boy for a few hours. She won't mind a bit."
Hermione placed her hands over Draco's and pried his fingers off her breast. Swallowing thickly, she asked, "Will Astoria?"
He bristled and she turned her head to face him, his eyes round and shocked with his mouth gaping open. Feeling something akin to pity for him, she said, "Luna told me. She visited her father a couple of weeks ago and came back telling me that you and Astoria Greengrass are together. She wanted to know why I hadn't told her. I didn't even know."
"Hermione," he rushed out. "It's not-"
"We're not together. I made it clear at Christmas. It's…it's right for you to have someone, and she's everything I can't be."
Draco shook his head violently. "Yes, we've been on a few dates, but it's nothing."
"Have you slept with her?"
"Please don't ask that."
"I did and got my answer," Hermione dryly chuckled. The revelation hurt, but her own despair, the loss of her baby girl consumed her and left little for frivolous things like how her ex-boyfriend was moving on to someone better fitted for him. "It's good that you're seeing someone, Draco. I'm glad. You deserve to be happy."
"Granger-"
"It's over," she stated resolutely. "We can't keep doing this. I don't…I'm sorry that I said I hated you. I don't, but I refuse to be in a relationship with you any longer."
"Why? Why all of sudden now? And don't you dare tell me it's because of the baby."
"It's for a million reasons, Draco, and one of them is because of Astoria. From what Luna has told me is that you like her. You've been seen with her all over Diagon Alley. You take her places, and you've obviously slept with her, and not just to scratch an itch."
"If I call things off with her, will you let me get you pregnant?"
Alarmed by the abrupt and ill-worded question, Hermione paused and then shook her head. "No."
Present Day
Hermione did the best she could with the dish of slop in front of her but only manage to get a quarter of it down her gullet. As she, Alex, Blaise, and Draco's parents departed from the dining hall, Lucius mentioned Draco's portrait and invited her to his office if she wished to discuss anything with his son. Knowing she would be monitored by the nosy git, she politely declined and promised to speak with his son the following day.
She, Alex, and Blaise spent the rest of the evening studying the spines of books and un-shelving the ones that looked fascinating in the library. Alex had found an old journal of Lucius' female ancestors and insisted she read from it.
"I don't understand any of it," he said while skimming the loopy letters and French words in morbid fascination. He offered the leather-bound book, and she took it, studying the yellow-edged, paper-thin parchment.
"My French isn't so good anymore, sweetheart. I'm out of practice. Blaise would be a better option, I think."
"My Spanish is better," the wizard informed haughtily. "Go on, Granger. Tell us what Madam Isobel Malfoi had to say."
Taking a seat at Alex's desk, she found the first page and spoke like she was telling an extravagant tale. "The first entry is written on March 21, 1703. Madam Isobel begins her journal by writing, 'Je déteste mon nouveau mari'." Hermione wrinkled her brow at that and brought the text closer to her eyes. "That can't be right."
Blaise looked towards the ceiling with a funny expression. He then asked, "Did she write that she hated her new husband?"
"That's not very nice," Alex said. "What else does it say?"
Hermione skimmed the rest of the page and then flipped to the next one before shutting it soundly, ignoring the dust cloud it caused. She returned the journal back to its spot and found another book she knew Alex would love. The boy didn't need to hear about how a young Malfoy bride got raped on her wedding night by her new husband for refusing to consummate the marriage during her menstruation cycle.
"I think this one is much more interesting, It's about Merlin."
"Merlin?" he chirped and sprinted over to see the book. In awe, he traced a vigilant finger over the fragile bindings and the rune-like symbol etched on the brown leathery cover. "Wow."
She sat down again and opened the book and chuckled softly, scratching her chin at the Middle English text written in the worst handwriting known to man. She glanced up at Alex's expectant face and smiled faintly. "I'll do my best."