Hermione glared at him and went to stomp out of the room but visibly deflated and whirled around to face him once again. "Look, Theodore, I suppose I'm flattered from your interest, but my words would be falling on deaf ears if I told you that nothing will ever happen between you and me."
"Oh, believe me, Granger." He smirked and walked towards her. "If I wanted you that much, I would have had you."
Unperturbed by his somewhat impolite statement, she patted him on the chest, her hand still enclosing the cigarette case. His hand came over hers, brushing over the back of it before taking back the box. She smiled sweetly and said, "No you wouldn't. Have a good evening, Mr. Nott."
With that said, she twirled on her heel and marched down the hallway in search for the nearest staircase, wanting to return to her room to re-transfigure her clothing. Already, they were starting to feel baggy again. She made it a good five paces before feeling a tug on her elbow. With a startled 'eep', she staggered around where her nose crashed into something hard, thus, resulting in a rush of pain escalating up her nostrils and overwhelming the front part of her brain. Squeezing her eyes shut, she stumbled backwards out of the grip on her arm and cupped her face.
"Ow!" she yelled and opened her eyes and instantly noticed the pool of blood gathering in the palm of her hand. She then glared at Theodore to find him also cupping a bloody nose as his other hand pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, covering his face with it.
Looking around searchingly for the nearest guest lavatory, she gave a helpless whimper. She then pulled out her wand from her sleeve and pressed it against her nose, unsure of what spell to cast on the blood-flow. A simple Freezing Charm popped into her head, and she quickly acted upon it, instantly regretting it when her poor, abused nose was frostbitten. Merlin, it felt blue!
Cleaning the blood from her hands with her wand, she then glowered nastily at Theodore who was still pinching the bridge of his nose with his handkerchief and barked, "What the hell did you do?!"
"I was, perhaps, too eager on my part."
"Too eager? Doing what?!"
"I think it's rather obvious what I was trying to do."
"Break my nose with your face?"
Pulling his the bloody cloth away from his face, having stemmed the flow, he stared at her incredulously."Yes, that's exactly what I was trying to do."
"Too eager to break my nose with your face?"
"Merlin, Granger." Theodore wiped the last bit of blood away from his nose and growled, "I wasn't trying to-"
"I know what you were trying to do! I'm not stupid, you unbelievable prat!" Hermione huffed and lifted her chin, placing her hands on her hips. "You are as gentlemanly as an ape?! You can't simply go around and start kissing people, Mr. Nott! Especially when you have a fiancé!" She touched her cold nose tenderly and groaned when feeling the deep throb pulsate up the bridge.
"Is it broken?"
"I don't think so," she mumbled and hoped the Freezing Charm prevented any swelling. "It hurts, though. I should go put some healing cream on it, so if you'll excuse...AAAH!"
Before Theodore's face could get any closer, she placed the palm of her hand over it and hissed, "What is wrong with you?!"
His closed-mouth mumbles tickled her hand, but she dared not lift the barrier in fear he would attack her again. So she lifted her wand, making sure he was able to see, and ticked it threateningly. "Thank you so much, Mr. Nott for being an understanding individual in this difficult situation I'm going through right now. With Draco's passing, dealing with his awful parents, dealing with my son, and dealing with my maladies, it's simply hard to find anyone around who actually cares about me and my feelings."
Between her spread fingers, Theodore rolled his eyes and pulled her hand away from his mouth but did not let it go. "From what I've gathered, Miss Granger, is that your feelings are skewed."
"Skewed? What about yours?" Hermione yanked her hand free and started backing away, slowly. "Yours are…unethical. Leave me alone, and go back to your fiancé. I'm not interested in you. Your weird little crush on me will get you nowhere, and from what I know of Daphne is that she loves you. The last thing I need is to upset her further."
"Further?" Theodore frowned and took a step towards her.
"Before my accident, I had the pleasure of officially meeting her. She hates me because of what she thinks she knows. I guess I can't blame her, but I don't fancy being called a whore. And that was on behalf of her sister. I cringe to think if she ever found out about your fascination with me, so I dare say, keep it to yourself. It's bad enough I know, which leads me into a land of great regret because now I can't state deniability. Especially now after I brought it up and you confirmed it. I mean…GAH! You could have lied! You could have denied it, and…Why am I even still here?! Why am I arguing with you?!"
"I've hardly said anything in the last three minutes. How can you be arguing with me?"
"I don't…" Hermione closed her eyes and sucked in sharply. "I'm going to go away now. Please don't follow. Hopefully we never see each other again."
She turned to leave and mentally cursed when he piped up, "We'll be seeing each other at Christmas. I've been invited to the party. The Malfoys are always so hospitable in extending an invitation to me on any social event they host."
Biting back a retort, Hermione persisted in walking away from him. The staircase was not far, thankfully, and arrived to it fairly quickly. Before climbing them, she glanced back to make sure Theodore wasn't following her and sighed in relief to not see him anywhere, thank heavens. She hoped he left, and they would never have to see each other again. Yes, he'd be there at the Malfoys' Christmas get-together, but he'd obviously be there with Daphne and too preoccupied to seek her out. However, if not and he stalked her the entire evening, she would avoid him at all costs.
Once to the fourth floor, she journeyed down the hallway, turning corners here and there. When getting to her suite, she opened one of the double doors and rushed in, feeling the material of her polo sweater begin to sag away her form. Deciding not to bother transfiguring it, she shirked the blood-spotted shirt and donned a light blue button up sweater and Charmed it to fit her torso before casting the same spell on her baggy pants.
After using the loo and running a comb through her hair and tying it up into a sensible bun, she left the room and went in search for Alex. She debated the notion of seeking out Draco's parents and yelling at them good and proper, but the evening was still young and Theodore's unabashed advances threw off her temperament.
The next time she saw Blaise, she was going to have a word with him. Maybe call in a favor. She reckoned he had influence on Theodore and could persuade the man to leave her alone.
At dinner, Hermione planned on confronting the Malfoys on their foolish and rude attempt of shooing Theodore's occupation in order to get secondary guardianship over Alex. By then, she assumed, her anger would return. One of Draco's parents would politely but pointedly ask how her meeting with Theodore went, and she would blow up.
After ten minutes of trying to find Alex, her boy actually found her near the library. When seeing her, he sprinted towards her and shoved his smaller hand into hers with a self-pleased grin.
"I found the second kitchen, and there are lots and lots of sweets, Mommy. I thought about making you a big sundae, but I wasn't sure which ice creams you wanted. You like so many of them," he chattered while directing her through the eastern part of the manor, a part where she had yet to investigate.
The deeper they travelled into the eastern part of the manor, the faster Hermione's heart pounded; each collision with her chest bone felt like hammer. Her pace slowed as she took in her surroundings. It was so…familiar, and she knew that she'd been there before.
To her left, the hallway opened into a grand room with large windows covered by lush green tapestries. Morosely, she studied the chandelier and thought it to be a perfect replica of its former.
Breath shaking, she came to a complete stop and let go of Alex's hand, moving away from him to enter the drawing-room. Memories like vivid nightmares flashed in front of her at the recollection of being dragged into the area with Harry and Ron by her side.
"Mom, the kitchen is this way," her son called from behind her.
"Give me a minute, sweetheart," she whispered and lifted her chin. She was standing directly underneath the chandelier. At her feet was where she once laid, tortured beyond sanity at the very spot. A good twenty feet away from there, Bellatrix had held her weak form, a knife resting above her throat threateningly. The cold blade had felt sharp and frightening, a good, careless swipe could have easily ended her.
Nothing about the drawing-room had changed. The lighting was different because of the warm, yellowing candles on the chandelier igniting the room, but there was no mistaking. Never would she forget this room. It visited her at night often, reminding her of her impurity, her lowliness, her worthlessness. She almost died here. Vividly, she remembered her heart begging to seize as Bellatrix threw crucio after crucio at her. She remembered wanting to die, mentally begging the woman to kill her and to be done with it.
Hermione's eyes flickered off to the side, and the memory of Draco standing there danced across her vision. He stood by and did nothing. Did he want to help her? Was he distraught at all watching her writhe in pain and beg for death? Had he loved her, even then? A few times he professed his school-boy feelings he held for her, but he had been such a flatterer.
Little, tentative hands enveloped hers and she looked down to see Alex staring up at her with concern, his grey eyes full of inquiries. "Are you okay, Mommy?"
No, she wasn't. Not really. Her son was so close to the spot she nearly died. He was under the chandelier, too. If she wanted, all she would have to do is confess what happened in the room over twelve years ago. The moment she told him what his grandparents encouraged and condoned, he'd be frightened and saddened, maybe even disgusted. He'd want to leave right away and never return. Hermione wasn't ignorant to her son's love. She knew how much he adored her and how angry he'd be if ever discovering what happened to her during the war.
Stroking his face, she knew she could even make him despise his father and explain to him all the things the man did to her in school and the path he chose during the war. But she didn't want that. Never would she taint his father's name in such a pathetic way.
"I'm fine, sweetheart. Let's go hurry and eat some ice cream before we have to join your grandparents for dinner."
His hand came up to grip hers and she allowed him to guide her out of the drawing-room and down the hall where they came to a dining area similar to the one on the west side of the manor with the exception of different portraits and color schemes. Ignoring the glares of the portrait occupants, they both entered the kitchen through the double-swing doors.
"It's empty," announced Alex with a pleased grin. "The house-elves are nice and all, but they take grandmother and grandfather too seriously about the whole 'no sugary snacks' rule."
The boy march further into the unlit kitchen and towards the icebox and opened it, revealing several containers of ice cream. "They have lots of flavors," he said and pointed to one. "Double chocolate swirl. Daddy's favorite, Mommy. I want that one. Can I have that one?"
"Of course," Hermione softly chuckled, yet her mood was somber and reluctant. More than ever, she yearned to leave Malfoy Manor and return to Salem. Not even the portrait of Draco was enough to sway her.
As she and her son towered over the container of ice cream on one of the kitchen counters with the boy plopped on the edge, she tapped on the creamy substance considerately with her spoon and quietly asked, "Alex, sweetheart, would you be terribly upset if we didn't stay for Christmas?"
Her son gasped, a brokenhearted expression spreading across his face. The spoon his hand fell into the carton of ice cream, and his hands reached for her. "No, please. I don't want to go back yet. Can't we wait until after? Please, please," he begged, his voice growing thick with emotion. "Daddy-"
"Alex, that is not your father," she proclaimed in a steady, even tone. "His portrait is not him. You understand?"
"Yes, but-"
"No, buts. It's not him. You learned this in school. The portrait only represents a small piece of the actual person. It's nothing more than a glorified memory. I know talking with the portrait gives you comfort, and I know-"
"You talked with him," the boy interjected, tears escaping down his cheeks. "I know you did. If he's really not real, then how come you talked with him? Mommy, please, I don't want to leave yet. I want Daddy. I want Daddy!"
He launched at her and buried his sobbing face into her neck, whimpering unintelligible pleas, and Hermione held him close and allowed him to cry. And though she wanted to join him, she remained strong in keeping her emotions in check as well as her resolve. She was going to stand her ground on this. She was done with Draco's parents, the tutors, Blaise, Theodore, and Alex's interest in staying because of his father's portrait. His developing relationship with his grandparents was probably a deciding factor, as well.
In the five weeks of her incapacitation, Alex was cared for and Hermione could not deny that. They took care of him by feeding him, clothing him, and showering him with presents like most grandparents do. Nevertheless, they made it clear they detested her and merely put up with her because of Alex, and she refused to suffer through the next ten days. She thought their affection for Alex would be enough, but seeing the drawing-room again had been...the final blow. If she didn't leave, hateful words and past memories would surface, exposing Alex to things he wasn't ready to hear or know.
Gently, she caressed his back and quietly told him, "We're leaving in the morning."
Dinner was a tense affair, and it took all of Hermione's will power not to unleash her temper. Earlier, she had planned on doing just that, but Alex was already in a delicate state. Watching her come apart and curse his grandparents' existence would be an unfortunate thing for him. To keep her calm, she grabbed her spoon and tucked into her soup that was she was acquiring a taste for. The dish had potential if only it were merely warmer.
"Dear boy," Lucius sighed and set down his fork, peering at his sullen-looking grandson, "are you well?"
The child was flushed, the tip of his small nose swollen and his grey eyes bloodshot. His bottom lip was protruding, and he was scowling at his perfectly prepared, roasted duck and steamed vegetables.
Alex shook his head and said nothing causing his wife to frown and toss a questioning look at the boy's mother which the girl pointedly ignored. Miss Granger was swirling her vegetable and oat soup, loathing evident in the pinched corners of her mouth.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Narcissa cooed, her blue eyes softening. "Is the duck not good?"
The boy shrugged, his scowl deepening. He folded his arms and contorted inwards, his legs coming up so he was resting his chin on his knees. A chiding comment burned the tip of Lucius' tongue. Curling up into a ball at the dining table was not suitable for etiquette behavior, and the boy should know that. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to chastise his grandson. The boy appeared incredibly downtrodden, reminding him of Draco's younger years. The simplest inconveniences had the boy tripping over his bottom lip.
"Miss Granger?" Lucius inquired and stilled when the woman did not raise her head but merely flicked a cold, death glare in his direction.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" she said.
Lightly coughing, he had an idea of why the woman was upset and said, "I take that you were able to give your thanks to Mr. Nott earlier. May I ask if he discussed anything with you off the subject of your rescue?"
Slowly, Hermione took the spoon out of her soup and set in aside gently before carefully standing to her feet, provoking Alex to even appear more miserable. Tears were escaping his eyes and streaming down his cheeks, a small keening sound coming from his throat.
"Alex and I will be leaving tomorrow," Hermione informed, her eyes closing when her son hopped up from his chair and sprinted out of the dining room screaming 'Daddy'.
Enraged at her words, Lucius stood up from his seat, undoubtedly regrettable words ready to be tossed, but his wife beat him to it by screeching, "You will do no such thing!"
"Watch me," the blasted girl challenged evenly, her dark eyes narrowing into slits.
"Miss Granger," Lucius tried, "I understand what you may be feeling...with what Theodore discussed with you..."
"No you don't!" she barked, slamming her hand on the table and shooting an incredulous glare at him. "When you chose Severus Snape to be Draco's godfather, what was the deciding factor?"
"I don't see how that has any-"
"It was trust, wasn't it? You trusted him. You wanted Draco to be with someone who you trusted. Did you honestly think for a second, that I would ever consider allowing you guardianship in case of my death? I don't trust you!"
"For the last five weeks-" Narcissa attempted.
"Should be enough to hold you over for years to come," Hermione hissed. "Tomorrow, Alex and I will be returning to Salem. I have had enough. I can't stand to be here until Christmas. I don't care that you have a portrait of Draco. Did you know he didn't want that? Did you even care? No, because you are inconsiderate people who care about nothing but your own selfish wants. You didn't even stop to think that maybe Alex had a godparent. For your information, he does."
"Miss Granger-" Lucius stomped his cane on the floor.
"I'm not finished," she barked and then took a deep, calming breath. "I was in the east side of the manor earlier. I was there, and all I could think was how I could've been so weak-minded to allow this situation to get so far. You took care of me this past month, and I'm grateful. I really am, and you took care of Alex which is even better. You've built a relationship with him. That's what you initially wanted, wasn't it. You disguised it by tossing excuses such as his need for tutoring and claiming his right as a Malfoy heir. Five weeks, you spent with him. An attachment was formed, obviously. We can now move on, and he shall return when he's of age to collect what Draco left for him. Until then, I am his mother and I will not have him in this house any longer. It's over."
Sucking in a shaky breath, Hermione straightened her shoulders and abandoned the dining table and then bristled when hearing Narcissa scream, "I will not let you take him from us!"
The younger witch whirled around to face the woman. "I've made my decision. I'm protecting my child. As a mother, Mrs. Malfoy, I thought you could respect that."
"He doesn't need protecting from us! We love him! We would never hurt him!"
"You say that now! But you probably thought you would never hurt Draco. Yet, he actually bore the mark of the type of love you had for him. The type of protection," Hermione said scathingly, casting a brief glance at Lucius who tightly gripped the snake head of his cane, his eyes frigid as the Arctic.
Narcissa gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth and then ripped them away from herself. "You have no idea what you are talking about. You know nothing about the situation-"
"Draco told me everything," Hermione declared and noticed the doubt-stricken expression on the other witch's features. "He did. I made him tell me because I was not going to have him around Alex unless I knew everything about him. He told me the way how you and your husband raised him, about the rubbish both of you filled his head with. Draco mentioned the shame he felt when you discovered he wasn't the best in his class, how it hurt him to feel like nothing. You told him you were disappointed in him and assumed he wasn't trying hard enough. He talked of the lies you told him about Muggle-borns and Muggles. You told him they were no better than dirty mongrels and just as educated and ethical. His summer before sixth year may have been mentioned, as well."
"You're lying!" accused Narcissa. "He wouldn't bring that up. Not to you or anyone else."
"Oh, he was resistant, but I was clear he had to tell me. I wanted to know what I was getting myself into when letting him be around Alex. I also wanted to know what you two did as parents, so I made sure he did the exact opposite."
The woman was humming with pent up emotion, and the candles on the overhead-hanging chandelier were flickering from the magical energy. Anger was only the tip of the iceberg from what Hermione could see. Her blue eyes were glassy, and her usually pale cheeks were blushing. She then craned her head to face her husband and screamed, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"I think Miss Granger's departure is a splendid idea. The only shame is that our grandson must go with her," he spoke stoically but with an unmistakably jagged undertone.
Hermione titled her chin in a nod, bidding them a farewell for the evening, knowing her presence was no longer wanted nor welcome in the dining area. She entered the hallway with Lucius' office in mind, intending to pay Draco's portrait a visit. Alex was most likely there, telling the small slice of his father's soul about what his mother planned.
A little more than five minutes later, she was outside of the office, the door ajar. Her son's voice was hoarse and tragic sounding as he spoke to Draco.
"I don't want to leave, Daddy," her son said tiredly.
"I know, Scorpius."
Opening the door wider, Hermione entered and saw her son curled up on the couch facing the fireplace. She walked up behind the furniture and reached down to stroke his hair. He flinched at her touch and glowered at her, leaning away from her touch.
"No." He shook his head and got off the couch and glared up at her. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay until Christmas."
"Go to our room, Alex. I would like for you to start packing. We have an early start in the morning."
A mix between a grunt and a whine slid through his clenched teeth. He stomped his foot and bolted out of the office, leaving Hermione with a bemused portrait of the boy's father.
"Don't look so surprised," she said.
"I'm not. I knew you'd want to leave before Christmas, but it irks me to see my son so upset."
"He's mostly upset because he won't be able to see your portrait. I'm sure he'll miss your parents to some extent, but it's you he wants, Draco."
Draco nodded slowly, his brows pinching and mouth frowning. In his seat, he leaned forward and hesitantly said, "Granger…Hermione, I need to tell you something. Something I tried telling you earlier."
"What is it?"
His mouth opened and then closed, only to repeat the processes. He then visibly deflated and shook his head. "It's important but can wait. Come to me tomorrow morning, early. I would like to see you alone, and then before you leave, please bring Scorpius. I would like to speak with him before he leaves."
"All right," Hermione agreed with a frown, wanting to press the issue but paid him the respect by refraining.
Silence permeated the room, the sensation thick and solid-like. The witch's eyes fluttered close, and she sighed softly, rehashing what had happened in the dining hall only minutes before. Twisting her lips bitterly at the recent memory, she said, "Today I saw your friend Theodore Nott. He dropped by, and I gave him a thanks for saving my life. Afterwards, he told me that your parents spoke to him about them wanting to be their guardians in case something awful happens to me again. I got angry and…Draco, I came upon the drawing-room today. It was awful. Alex was with me, and he had no idea about anything. I'd…I'd like to keep it that way for now."
"Hermione," Draco started.
"I have to go," Hermione said, casting a nervous gaze to the open office door, knowing Lucius would very upset to see her in his office. "I'll come in the morning. I…" The instinct to tell him she loved him died on her lips. Instead, she repeated, "I'll come in the morning."
November 2004
"Where are you parents, Hermione?" she heard Draco mumble from beside her. The sleepy witch was lying on her stomach in her bed, facing the slightly parted curtains. The window behind them gave her a partially fogged view of the icy sheets of rain pouring down outside. Closing her eyes, she could focus on the wonderful, soothing sounds of water hitting the apartment building. Combined with the lulling hum of the storm and the soreness of her post-coital body, her breathing slowed and her muscles relaxed. It was three in the morning, and Alex would be up in four hours demanding chocolate pancakes. The need for rest was vital. It was his second birthday, after all.
"Granger?" Draco called her name, and in her half-slumbering state, she felt his fingers find the top of her spine. The tips skimmed downward, tracing curves of her backbone, momentarily resting his hands at the base before dipping his hand even lower and resting it on her bare bum.
"Hmm?" she noised sleepily.
"Where are your parents?"
Frowning in her sleep, she answered breathily, "They're gone."
The mattress shifted, and she sensed Draco's maneuvering to get closer. Unwillingly, her eyes opened to exhausted slits when feeling the weight of her lover's head resting in the middle of her back. His cheek was pressed against her spine, and his breath tickled her skin. His arm was slung over her lower back languidly, and he asked, "Was it in the war?"
Grunting, Hermione grumbled, "I don't want to talk about this right now. Alex is going to be up in four hours. Go to sleep."
"I'm quite wired, actually. I'd rather talk. We hardly said anything to each other when I arrived."
"We can talk in the morning. I'm exhausted, Draco. Let me sleep at least. Go read a book or something if you want to stay up."
He was quiet for a moment, long enough for Hermione to relax and doze off for a couple of seconds before he asked, "Was it Death Eaters?"
"Draco, for the love of Merlin, shut up," she hissed and arched her back, so he would know to get off of her.
He didn't budge.
"We haven't talked about them, your parents," he mentioned softly.
"We don't really talk much about yours either because it obviously makes you uncomfortable."
"Yes, but do you think we should? I mean…I hardly know how you were raised outside of Hogwarts."
Hermione's eyelids reluctantly opened, and she stared out the somewhat obscured window. The rainfall was thickening, hitting the glass noisily. Clenching her teeth, she wondered what brought the topic of parents upon Draco. He never really showed any particular interest on how she was raised and what her parents were like. Thinking about it, actually, no one really had. Not even Harry or Ron asked what her parents were like. All they really knew was that they were Muggles with Muggle professions. Harry had known what dentists were, but Ron had not. Hermione once explained to him what their occupation involved, and her ginger-haired friend looked positively ill.
"How were you raised outside of Hogwarts?" Hermione fired back, pushing her back against Draco's chest, indicating she was going to roll over and indulge him. If he was going to keep her up with his chatter, she was going to play nasty and take full advantage of the opportunity he was giving her concerning their upbringing.
"You know how I was raised, Granger," he said darkly, discomfort in his tone as she settled on her side facing him.
"I can only assume, Draco, and my imagination is broad. I suppose it is important to know each other's background. We do have a baby together and like each other well enough. If we're going at this like a true a couple taking care of a child, we should be aware of certain aspects of each other's lives. Since you brought this up, I'll ask you first."
In the dark, she saw his handsome features harden, his mouth forming a distinct frown. "What do you want to know?" he questioned warily.
Everything.
Licking her lips, she decided on something small. "What's your earliest childhood memory?"
"Out of all the possibilities, that's what you ask," Draco murmured, more to himself than to her. A few moments passed, and he said, "My third birthday. Bits and pieces only. I remember the cake. It was taller and wider than me. My parents' friends with children around my age were invited. It's where I first met Gregory and Vincent."
Despite herself, Hermione smiled and pictured Draco at three years old at the end of a long table that piled high with glossy wrapped packages. Directly in front of him dwelt a four-tiered cake the flavor of rich chocolate with festive buttercream piping on the exterior. His grey eyes would have been wide, his small mouth gaping in awe at the sight.
"You were spoiled rotten, weren't you?" she guessed. Smiling lazily, she propped her head up on her palm. "I picture the scene perfectly. You're all trussed up in a new outfit your mum bought you and as much as you are eager to open one-hundred presents, you're dying to get your little hands on that cake."
"Well, it was fairly impressive, Granger."
"Oh," she couldn't help but coo as she wiggled closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, her face tucked into the column of his neck. "Alex is so much like you. Were you as perfect as him?"
"No."
"I meant-"
"I know what you meant, and no, never was I as innocent or unblemished as him. I was born," his chest stuttered, "shite, Granger, I doubt I have to spell out what my parents were like."
"You told me they loved you," she reminded.
"They did. They do. Bloody hell, do they ever, but they made it a high-priority to feed my lies about Muggles and Muggle-borns. Because of that…" he brought a hand up to his forehead and dragged his palm down his face, "bad things happened as I'm sure you remember." Scoffing, he shook his head and growled, "Damn it, everything is still chaos. Look at us. If my parents hadn't…" his voice faded again before continuing, "brainwashed me, our relationship, Granger, would be a lot smoother. I wouldn't have been afraid to act on my wants when we were in school. The thought of moping about Weasley wouldn't have ever crossed your brilliant mind because you would have been with me, and Scorpius," Hermione watched as Draco's lips twisted in a roguish, arrogant smirk, "he would have arrived a lot sooner."
"You're foul," Hermione susurrated and slapped his chest. His fingers wrapped around her abusive hand brought it to his lips and brushed soft, damp, breathy kisses across her knuckles. She glared up at him and snootily said, "Who's to say I'd let you have me."
Her words earned her playful nip, and soon, she was smashed beneath him with her wrists pinned above her head, Draco's lips peppering lingering smooches over her face and then finally over her lips. Butterflies inside her chest fluttered, and she sighed into his mouth contently. He tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth and gave it a delicate swipe with his tongue, and she keened, "I thought you wanted to talk."
"Just to be clear, Granger, in every life I will always have you. You will always be mine, and we'll always have Scorpius."
"Hungeeee," whined Alex from his high-chair, his small, plump hands banging on the tray in front of him. "Mama, hungeeeeeeee!"
"I know, I know," Hermione groggily said while slipping the spatula underneath the liquid-y brown circle on the griddle. Quickly, she flipped it over and tossed Draco a glance behind her. He was sitting next to the famished boy reading the newspaper, oblivious to his son's cries.
"Draco, could you make yourself useful and fetch Alex his sippy-cup?"
"Pardon?" Draco frowned, setting down the newspaper. "What's a sippy-cup?"
"Meeelk," whimpered his son. "Daddy, meeelk!"
"It's in the cupboard where the bottles used to be."
"What happened to the bottles?" he asked and stood up from the table.
"I switched Alex to soft-spout sippy cups a couple of weeks ago. He's too old for a bottle. After that, it will be the hard-spout ones."
She watched as Draco found the sippy-cups, muttering intelligible words under his breath. He then fished the milk out of refrigerator and prepared their son his morning milk. Dutifully, he marched over to Alex's high-chair and offered the cool beverage to the boy. The man flinched when the child screeched, "Sippeeeee!" and yanked it out of his grip, shoving the nipple-like spout into his mouth, guzzling the white liquid greedily.
"All right, Alex," Hermione crooned, nudging Draco aside to set his Mickey Mouse plate in front of him. On it was a chocolate pancake with a bit of butter and maple syrup. The two year old popped the sippy-cup out of his mouth, the drink half-empty, and set it aside before tearing into the sticky meal with both hands.
"Is it good, sweetheart?" She tucked her fingers underneath his chin and tickled the chubby expanse of skin adoringly. "Oh, darling, happy birthday."
Alex paid her no mind and persisted to tear apart his pancake and enjoy his breakfast, so Hermione hummed tranquilly and encircled her arms around Draco's middle and resting her head on his chest. Flirtatiously, she brought her bare foot to his stroked the top of his suggestively. He looked down at her with an arched brow.
"Is it terribly sexist of me to say how fetching you look barefooted in the kitchen in your nightdress?"
"Extremely," she murmured and arched her feet to plant a kiss on his arrogant mouth. "But you're barefoot, too, in your nightwear, so I'll let that slide this one and only time."
"Kith," Alex slobbered and puckered his own lips which were glistening stickily with small patches of chocolate crumbs.
"You want a kiss, too?" Hermione laughed and bent down again and pecked her son, uncaring he was a right mess, his gummy palms cupping her face. Her heart warmed at the innocent affection, and she thought this moment was one of the best she ever experienced next to holding her precious baby boy for the first time. Draco was with them, and everything was perfect.
After breakfast, she and Draco kneeled by the bathtub filled with shallow, bubbly warm water. Together they bathed their son and gave him special, time-committing attention which the parenting books Hermione read so faithfully said was important. Following the child's bath, they dried and dressed him for the day.
"The party is this afternoon, but I think I'm going to give him some presents now, so he can play with them," she said to Draco while holding his wiggling son like a porcelain treasure on the bed. She poked her arms into the closet and pulled out two wrapped boxes with stringy bows and set them on the bed.
"You only got him two presents?" Draco sputtered.
"Yes, but there may be up to twenty kids at the party which means up to twenty presents. He's barely a toddler. He's not going to notice Mummy only gave him two presents. Besides, you probably stocked your pockets full of gifts."
"Of course I bloody well did." He puffed out his chest and smashed a kiss to his son's chubby cheek. "One of his presents is the latest training broom for children between the ages of two and four."
Gasping, Hermione dropped the gifts on the bed and snatched Alex away from him, cuddling the boy protectively to her chest. "You did no such thing, Draco Malfoy! My son will not be on one of those…those…baby-killers!"
"Baby-killers? That's ridiculous. Training brooms don't kill children."
"What planet are you living on? That incident was all over the news last week about that poor little girl…" her words tapered off at remembering the heartbreaking story of that three-year old girl in Quebec who passed away due to a tragic accident on her training broom.
"I heard about it, and it was tragic," Draco agreed. "But that broom's workmanship was faulty. Her Sleeping-Draught-Addict of a father made it for her. As for the one I'm giving Scorpius, I had it special-ordered and watched the manufacturers make it in front of my eyes.
"But, Draco," she whispered and snuggled Alex tighter, "it would kill me if anything bad happened to our boy."
The determination on Draco's features didn't soften at her words, he merely nodded. "I assure you if anything does befall on him, it will not be a training broom."
"He will not be flying on it, and that's final!" she shrieked, ignoring Alex's startled sulk.
"Final, my arse!" argued Draco. "Scorpius is at the age where it's time to introduce flying. If you want him to be a fair Quidditch player-"
"I couldn't give a hippogriff's flying fart if he was one or not. In fact, why would I want him to play? He could get seriously injured. He could fall off his broom like Harry did in third year. What if-"
Draco groaned and covered his face. "You sound like my mother! Ranting on and on about the dangers of Quidditch and flying too high!" He lowered his fingers enough to stare at her, his focus studious and pensive. "You know what I think would remove that overprotective, paranoid stick from your arse, Granger? Another baby."
"I beg your pardon!"
"You need another moppet to worry about. You're showering Scorpius in too much affection and too much security. It's going to drive you both bloody psychotic in the future if you don't stop. Spreading things out will benefit you both. Hell, it will cause me less irritation. As much as I love knowing that you adore our son, I don't want him growing up to be a marshmallow encased in a plastic bubble. So go put our boy down for a nap because it's nearly time, and we'll get this over with."
Jaw unhinged, the witch processed the man's words to ensure she heard him correctly. When she was sure, she wheezed, "You utter pig! How dare you? You can't simply just say things like that, Malfoy!"
"I can say whatever I want," he retorted and shrugged. "And I'll say the truth. You are in desperate need of a fertility Charm."
"I…I don't want another baby," she said meekly.
"This isn't about want, Granger. This is about necessity."
"Stop." Hermione shook her head resolutely and pinned Draco a blistering stare. "You will not make light of this request. Having another baby isn't something you toss about when something isn't going to your liking."
"I'm not tossing it about. I'm simply saying-"
"You don't simply say 'have another baby.' There should be no simplicity about it. We didn't even discuss Alex because he was unexpected."
"All right then, let's discuss it."
"Fine. I don't want another baby."
"I don't either, but I think it would be good for all of us."
With her free hand, Hermione pinched the skin between her eyebrows. "This conversation is over then. I'm not getting pregnant again. As much as I love Alex, carrying him for nine in-a-half bloody months was a mother-fluffing nightmare. Like his parents, he will be the only child, and there's no reason why that should change. I'm faithful to my potions, even when you are not here." Draco curled his lip at her assumingly. "Not for the reasons you are thinking. The Contraceptive Potions makes my skin healthier."
Draco tilted his chin in a nod. "Now about that training-broom."
Later that evening…
"That was bleedin' chaos!" exclaimed Draco as he stumbled through the entrance of the flat, his son passed out on his shoulder.
"I agree, but I think Alex had fun," Hermione chimed breathlessly, closing the door behind her. "It's so good for him to learn how to play with other children. There aren't many in the complex. And, oh, look at him all tuckered out. The way he was crying when the party winded down, I knew he was tired. Too many chicken fingers and cake. I hope he won't have a tummy ache in the morning."
Long, masculine fingers stroked the boy's curly head tenderly. "I can't believe he's two, Granger," he said in a hushed voice. "I miss so much when I'm not here."
Emptying her full pockets containing her son's shrunken presents, she placed them on the kitchen counter and said distantly, "I know."
"I suppose I should be lucky he even knows who I am. Every time I come to visit, I'm afraid he won't know. That he's forgotten."
"I tell him every day. He has your picture by his crib, and every morning and every evening I tell him who you are," Hermione said delicately, shuffling over to rest her cheek on the side of his arm. "There's a section in the parenting books about couples who are separated by distance. They suggest doing those kinds of things like talking to the babies and telling them about the absent parent."
"You don't have to."
"I want to." Hermione shrugged, lowering her lashes. "I…I love you, Draco. I want Alex to, as well."
She felt his free hand lay flat against the middle of her back and slide down to cup her bottom. He gave her a firm squeeze and said, "Marry me, you blasted woman."
Sighing, her own fingers found his trouser clad bottom and reciprocated the sentiment. "I better not."
"Will you at least tattoo my name on your arse?"
"Of course, Malfoy, right after I permit Alex to fly on a training broom."
"You have got to be the prissiest, most stubborn woman in the world," Draco accused and stole his hand away from her rear to place it on her right cheek, pressing his thumb into the flesh and smudging the face-painted picture of a small, scaly green dragon. She had gotten it done at the party; a talented young girl doing face-paint for a few dockels had been hired for the evening. While Draco had been busy trying to keep his son from going completely bonkers with the high-amounts of sugar and the large group of hyperactive children running around, Hermione handed the young witch a few coins, chose a design, and held still for seven minutes.
Lowering her gaze to the floor, she whispered softly, "I thought you'd like it."
"Manipulative minx," he muttered under his breath and leaned down to brush his nose against hers. "As much as I admire the print you chose, I prefer your face unblemished. Have a bath and I'll put Scorpius in his pajamas. I'll try to be quick, so I can join you."
The semi-wet paint smeared across her jaw and to her chin as Draco held it between his thumb and forefinger. He tilted her head up and kissed her fully, tingles stirring low in her belly, and her fingers flew up to his silky hair and raked her hands through the tresses, purposefully scratching his scalp. He growled lowly in his throat at the actions and clipped her bottom lip admonishingly and reluctantly pulled away.
"Witch, I will lay our son on the counter here and now and take you here on the floor," he threatened and she shivered at the naughty image.
"Put him to bed before I lose my sanity and take you up on the offer. Rug-burns be damned." She gave Draco's head another scratch, right at the base of his skull, and then nipped at his chin before pulling away and promising coquettishly, "I'll be the one underneath the bubbles."
"You know it's not safe to fall asleep in the bathtub, Granger," her lover drawled.
Groaning, she opened her eyes and rolled her head to the right to see a blurry version of Draco completely starkers standing beside the basin. Blinking, the man slowly returned to his normal solid state, and her eyes scanned him from head to toe in vague interest, her body groggy and hardly randy as it was ten minutes prior.
Knowing it would disappoint him if she refused him now after such covenanting kisses, she wordlessly scooted forward in the tub and bent over, so he could have enough room to join her. She watched as he swung a leg over the edge of the tub and sunk his foot and calf into the steaming, bubbly water. He hissed and said, "Warm enough for you?"
"It was freezing at that reception hall," she said. "All the mums having to casting Warming Charms on their children. Speaking of, I hope you weren't too uncomfortable being the only adult male there."
Draco made no reply while he slid into a sitting position, his back resting against the porcelain. Turning her head to make sure he was situated, she uncurled herself and rested her back against his torso and her head against his chest. She shifted between his legs so her side was molded against him and her cheek was pressing above his heart. Exhaling at the bolstering position, her heavy eye lids flirted dangerously with her lower lashes.
"I'm sorry, Draco," she breathed out. "I don't think I'll be much fun this evening. I feel bad, though because of what happened at Easter-"
"You were willing last night, remember?" Draco's arm slung around and pressed her closer to him, his lips skimming her hairline. He reached for the washcloth draped over the side of the basin and dunked it into the steaming water. "And I was a right bastard at Easter. But I stand by my claim, you deserved a better room."
"It was just a room," Hermione slurred and then swallowed, her thoughts jumbling from the heat of the water and the drowsiness egging at her brain.
Beneath her, Draco inhaled deeply, and she felt a hot, damp cloth on the side of her face. Gently, he rubbed the wet, roughened material over her moistened, painted skin and recalled, "We never did finish our conversation last night. You know, about our upbringing and our parents."
"Later."
"I have to leave in the morning. There won't be time."
"Tired."
Re-dipping the cloth into the water, be brought it back to her cheek and cleaned off the rest of the green paint. "Mmmm. Well, perhaps I shall divulge you in a story from childhood. Traumatic, really. So, there I was a lad of nine, and Professor Badgekiss had just finished tutoring me for the afternoon. The house-elf, Mippy, escorted her out, and I was left in the library wondering what I should do for the next few hours until dinner was served. The time of year was in the middle of January, so playing in the gardens was out of the question and…are you following?"
Hermione grunted softly as he finished wiping the paint residue off her face and dropped the cloth into the water with a splash.
"Good. Where was I? Oh, yes. I couldn't play in the gardens because of the hellish weather, so I decided to go in search for my parents. I searched in all the practical places consisting of the tearooms, the reception hall, and my father's office. Nowhere could I find them. The thought did cross my young mind that they could be in the bedroom because Mother favored stealing naps during the day, and I was forbidden to bother her when she did so. Not wanting to risk getting my arse hit with a Stinging Hex, the idea of swimming popped into my mind. I fetched my swimming trunks and headed towards the pool. Without any hesitation, I threw open the door and there were my parents desecrating the sacred waters of my innocence."
The witch in his arms peeled her eyes open and lethargically lifted her head to stare at him. "You don't mean…"
"They were shagging."
Detaching the rest of her body away from him, Hermione looked away with a frown saying, "Ew," and attempted to climb out of the tub.
"The thing is, I wasn't even sure what they were doing. Like I mentioned, I was nine. I had yet to have the lecture on anything to do with sex. All I knew was that my father had my mother pinned-"
"Stop!" Hermione scrambled to get out of the tub, her legs flailing and splashing water all over the wall and Draco. She fell onto the tile floor like sopped fish, very much alert.
"Problem, darling?" Draco asked sweetly.
"You're disgusting," she said loathingly and stood to her feet, yanking her soft robe off the nearby rack and slipping to on. Marching out into the bedroom, she crawled onto the bed and called out, "If you are bent on us discussing ourselves, then you better get in here."
A minute later, they were on the bed one wrapped in a robe and the other wrapped in a towel, their hair damp and cheeks flushed from the heat of the soapy water. And much to Hermione's dismay, his jaunt down memory lane was continuing.
"All I knew was that it didn't look natural, so I yelled at my father to leave my mother alone. It startled them, obviously. Father was angry and Mother was embarrassed." Draco grimaced, his pointed nose scrunching cutely, and Hermione chuckled and kissed him on the cheek.
"All right, I understand why you are the way you are now," she joked. "It has nothing to do with what lies your parents told you, but everything to do with their sex life."
"Please don't mention my parents and sex-life in the same sentence."
"It's a good lesson, though. Alex isn't old enough quite yet to come toddling in, but I'm getting rid of the crib by Christmas and replacing it with a child's cot. It'll make it easier for him to come into the bedroom." Blushing, Hermione shrugged and nibbled her bottom lip. "We'll have to be careful."
"Well, yes, if we are shagging in the bedroom. If we're somewhere else, then what are we going to do?"
"Not do it somewhere else. Honestly, Draco, there comes a point where in the parents can't be as adventurous anymore. At least not in the home. With children."
Draco's bottom lip stuck out slightly while shifting on his back. "Merlin, I'm feeling old. Your words are aging me."
"Hush, you," Hermione said and draped her damp hair across his chest, finding a comforting spot to rest her head. "Now last night I asked about your earliest memory. Just barely, you told me your most traumatic one, yet I'm sure there have been other instances that haunt you more than seeing your parents…make love." Sticking her eyes on his face, she asked, "How old were you when your parents informed you about blood-prejudices?"
"Granger." His mouth drooped into trouble sulk while his fingers toyed with her tresses. "Let's not-"
"No, Malfoy, you brought it up."
Rolling his eyes, he said, "I was almost five when my father told me about blood-purity. I may have been too young to know about sexual maturation, but I was plenty old enough to know what I should look for in a future wife. He gave me a dumbed-down lecture on lineage and how ours were elite, and his expectations for me to continue the tradition of marrying a pureblood witch and produce an heir."
"Oh," she mouthed and started gnawing on her bottom lip. The fingers toying in her hair wrapped themselves around the locks and tugged. She looked up at him timidly and saw an indescribable fierceness that made her insides melt like she was fifteen again and being told she was pretty by the boy who barely spoke a word of English.
"Scorpius is perfect the way he is," he alleged.
Hermione smiled at his words but quickly sobered when her next question crept to the tip of her tongue. "What happened the summer you took the Dark Mark?"
His breathing stopped and below her ear, she heard his heart's pace quicken. His Adam's apple bobbed and he swallowed slowly. "Hermione…"
"I need to know," she whispered. Eyes already stinging, she shook her head. "I don't want to know, but I have to."
Braving to look, she fluttered her eyelids back open and saw Draco openly struggle, his lips parted and his tongue moving behind them like he was unsure where to begin. Wanting to help him, she asked, "What happened when your father was arrested and put on trial?"
"You know what happened, Granger. It was all over the Prophet. He was convicted and sent to Azkaban."
"Yes, but what happened when you returned home after the school year?"
Eyes hardened, Draco turned his left forearm so it was in her direct line of sight. "This," he growled, the faded but ever prominent Dark Mark inches from her nose. Frowning, but generally unperturbed by the disturbing sight, Hermione traced the pattered with a delicate finger. He flinched at her touch and whipped his arm away from her.
"Don't," he gruffly said.
Hermione scoffed. "It's not the first time I've seen it, Draco, especially on you," she reminded. "So you received the Dark Mark. What else?"
A heavy, pregnant pause occurred before he said, "He was furious, the Dark Lord, about my father's failure to retrieve the prophecy about Potter and him. I was barely sixteen and foolish as a horse's arse and felt honored to fill the role my father was unable to do at the time. It was my duty to regain that…that…thing's trust. I was proud, obedient to hold still while he branded me. The next day, the Dark Lord gave me my first task which was to kill Dumbledore. Though I didn't let it show, that was when I started feeling doubts, little inkling annoyances consistently stabbing at my brain. When I returned to school and the months dragged on and my frivolous attempts at offing the old coot failed, those feelings of uncertainty increased. And, bloody hell, when I nearly killed that Bell girl." Draco stabbed his closed eyes with his middle finger and thumb and hissed, "I got a Howler from Flint for that because everybody bloody knew I did it."
"Flint? Marcus Flint? Why on earth would he send you a Howler over Katie's incident?"
"Because they were shagging like rabbits, that's why. Still are, I think."
"That's…bazaar," Hermione stated lamely. "They don't fit! He's…ugly!"
"Who cares? He's raking in two million galleons a year as a beater for the Falcon's, and I reckon Bell saw his money-making potential at Hogwarts."
"Katie would never date anyone for money."
"Would you rather I say she's with him because she loves him?"
"…no…"
"All right then. As I was saying, I got a Howler from Flint, but he was the least of my problems. Mother's safety was always an issue. I had to kill Dumbledore because I knew the Dark Lord would kill her, and I couldn't…wouldn't let that happen."
Hermione did her best not to be distracted by her own thoughts which were resentful and possibly hostile. It bothered her hearing Draco spout of the love he had for his mother. The woman had so clearly allowed her child to be put in danger.
"Draco?" Hermione whispered.
"Hm?"
Scrunching her forehead, she breathed in deeply and asked, "Why didn't she leave with you? She could've grabbed you and left after your father's trial and gone into hiding."
Her lover's eyes turned into slits, but she wasn't afraid and was aware of the sensitive nature of her question. Yet, she braced herself for his comeback.
"My mother wasn't going to leave England with my father in prison, Granger. Besides, the Dark Lord would have found us."
"You overestimate him. There were ways to hide, and I found Tom Riddle rather lazy. If you went far enough, I doubt he would have even bothered trying to find you or even send someone after you. You and your mother were not that important and replaceable." Nibbling on her lip pensively, Hermione continued, "She didn't want to leave your father."
"It is uncomely to leave a spouse, Hermione," said Draco, gradually. "Even in times of war."
His words bounced around in her head, and she climbed over him, her legs straddling his hips. Her eyes peered down at him thoughtfully, and then placed her hands on his chest over the scars that Harry gave him in their sixth year at Hogwarts.
"I would have left you," she professed, her voice so quiet, she wondered if she said anything at all.
She would have, too. If she and Draco were in a similar situation, and he had purposefully put himself and their child in danger, nothing could make her stay. Love him, did she ever. But Alex would forever be her main priority, not her relationship with Draco.
His hands wrapped around her wrist to keep them in place, and he said, "I know."
To be continued...
A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay. I had such a difficult time with this chapter. I put myself on a crossroads, deciding where I wanted to go from the last chapter. I took this route, and it was too short. Then I just kept writing, deleting, writing, deleting, and so on. Finally, this came and I'm satisfied. I hope you all are, too.
I shall continue the next chapter on the same note as this one finished. We barely got into any grimy details of Draco's summer before sixth year, so I must indulge my readers further. :) We also didn't get much of Lucius' and Narcissa's point of view on the dinner debacle. We shall know their thoughts in time. Very soon, I imagine.
On another note, for those that are hoping for a Theo/Hermione relationship, I have a self-rec called High Marks which can be found with my other stories. It's a one-shot that I rather enjoyed writing, so if any of my readers are interested in a quick, semi-funny read starring that particular ship...yeah! :)
Thank you to all who reviewed, followed, and put this fic on their favorite list!
To hkmac: Yes, there will be a back story eventually on Hermione's new wand. :)
To kitcatscratch: Thank you for the lovely and long review and for the question about the timeline. I think now that I have it typed out, I'm going to post it here in the his A/N. Thank you again for the request.
To Anjali K.: To comment on your review from chapter 45, I didn't intentionally write Hermione to stop caring about Harry or to stop protecting him. You're right she did for so long, but after the war, it wasn't about him anymore. She also wasn't the same Hermione and broken things off with Ron. She wanted to find her parents, which she did and found them divorced and moving on with their lives. She decided to do the same. Nearly three years passed before she saw him again, and it was only for a few days. It wasn't specifically Harry she was trying to get away from, but it was all of England and everything that reminded her of the war. There's a line in chapter 25 when Hermione talks with Harry on why she didn't contact during her stay in Salem. It says, "You could've found me with a little extra work, but yes, I didn't contact you in the last nine years. The reason I didn't was because I wanted that chapter of my life to be over. Everything reminding me of the war, I wanted out of my life." I hope this clears up your question. I did my best with it. :) Thank you for the review.
Timeline: Alex was conceived January of 2002. Probably on the twenty-fifth if we want to get specific. :) His due date was October 18th, but Hermione was two weeks overdue before her baby was born. I haven't really given any details on the exact date of his birthday, but it's November 6th.
As for Eliza/Cass, she was conceived on April 8th of 2007 and would've been born after the New Year of 2008, most likely. Hermione lost her in mid-October, and I'm actually working on the event with all the other stuff. I'm not sure when I'll be posting it, but it will find its way into the story in the future.
Easter 2008, we discover that Hermione and Draco are no longer together and things ended between them during Christmas 2007. We don't know much. We don't even know how he and Astoria got together. We get the idea that he fancies her, regardless of his love for Hermione. All we know is that they've already taken the next step in their relationship by Easter 2008. I will, of course, go into detail in future chapters.
Anyway, I do believe there was a section that was just labeled Easter which was referring to Easter 2010, the most recent one in the story. It was then where the fight between the couple took place that mentioned Draco's and Astoria's engagement, although Hermione knew of it before as did Alex.
Draco passed away on September 21, 2010, and Hermione did not become aware until November 5th.
Hermione, Alex, and Blaise left Salem on the seventh of November. On the ninth, Hermione fell into the river. Now the story is currently taking place close to mid December.
Please, leave a review. I'd love to know your thoughts.