The Poisoned Apple

by SeveranSnape

An atrocious act by Draco Malfoy in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor forced Hermione Granger to leave behind everything she ever cared for. Six years later, Draco after losing all that he cared for, comes face to face with the consequences. The once innocent Apple now poisoned is his last resort. Will he leave behind old Draco and earn Hermione's trust for a new beginning? ABANDONED.

75. Chapter 75

A/N: Thanks to dragonjun, SereniteRose, Grovek26, surugasasa, dallysbear and other unnamed ones for their reviews on last chapter. Thanks for the follows, favourites and reviews on other chapters too.

A few important Notes:

** On the length: It is by far the longest chapter of this story, 30K words. The chapter deals with almost all the characters: Audré and her family, Alexis and last but not the least a lot of Draco-Hermione and Adrian. Hence the length.

** On Pasteur: his part covers almost one fifth the chapter. As stated before, he plays the crucial part of ending so he'll be popping sometimes. I tried to bring out his more fully here.

** TO THOSE WHO THINK THIS IS AN OBNOXIOUSLY LONG STORY: Please leave. Don't even bother to review as a guest. I can delete guest reviews anytime I like. I don't write as per your likings. If you came here for hot shag or dreams of Hermione murdering Draco, this isn't the story for you. I am sure there are plenty of stories like that out there. Mine, I can assure you, ISN'T ONE.

** On Hermione's home: According to FilmLocation website, her home shown in Harry Potter and Deathly Hallows part 1 was actually located in Hampstead Garden Suburb.

All the other places, customs, stories and foods were written after carefully considering numerous articles on them and checking the maps.

For adult theme and words, this chapter is rated M (VERY HIGH MATURITY CONTENT). Beau's story is inspired by real life events.

Disclaimer: The copyright to Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. Any other characters are purely work of fiction and any resemblances are co-incidental.

Chapter 75: The Violet and Grey Moments.

The sparks in Pasteur's shrewd dark eyes were like swarms of fireflies whirling down a fathomless black cave. They shamelessly lingered on Hermione.

"Bonjour, Madame Jean Granger." he nodded slightly as his eyes roved down her entire form in one sweep. He sat cross legged on his bed seemingly enjoying himself greatly even behind the protective magical wall of his cell.

Hermione sat like a perfect statue of Minerva: confident and proud. She was determined to prove that unlike last night, this afternoon her soul and her body were acting in unison; that the uncomfortable sensation encroaching up her throat was nothing but a natural reaction to the salty sea air and not to a man who reminded her of Nagini.

"Bonjour, Pasteur." She greeted back as impassively as she could.

"You don't seem very pleased to see me." Pasteur speculated though he didn't seem altogether displeased about it.

"Exactly what should be so pleasing about meeting a murderer?" Hermione enquired coolly, "Besides, you seem to be doing pretty fine these days. First good food. Then good accommodation and now…" She glanced at the collage of newspaper stacked neatly beside his bed.

The man sensed her point of interest.

"A small privilege granted by the kind Minister Guizot for my last co-operation in the ongoing trial." He tilted his head towards the collage though his eyes never left Hermione, "I read all about it. That Audré, I must admit, is something. But I don't see your usual escorts fighting over who should protect you. Where are they today?"

Hermione noted the plural form Pasteur had used to refer to her companions.

"They will not be accompanying me anymore." She stated carelessly.

"Really? Why not?" Pasteur's glee visibly magnified.

"The Ministry has decided to keep the trial as official as possible. They don't wish to involve anyone who is directly related to me as my escort." Hermione replied as simply as if that was obvious, "What Rochés did during the last hearing was unspeakably ugly."

"You mean that entertaining article on your esteemed sister-in-law where she was called a whore for dancing with one man for an entire evening?" Pasteur's eyes, if possible, lit up more in cruel pleasure, "Silly girl! Didn't realize that Nicolas Furrer's father would be testifying against her mother's biggest enemy the very next day? Or else she could have waited another day before displaying her affection." he shook his head in fake sympathy, "Who escorted you then? The Minister himself?" he seemed greatly amused by the idea.

Hermione shook her head, "Monsieur Sergeant, Head of the Depart…"

"….ment of Magical Law Enforcement." Pasteur finished the rest of the sentence for Hermione, "Why him? Why not your brother-in-law, Julian Chombrun Malfoy? Isn't he the second-in-command in the same department as Sergeant is? Or does the Ministry think that by having you escorted by Sergeant, a man twice your age, they can prevent any such future remarks on your chastity?"

"My chastity isn't on sale, Pasteur." Hermione retorted boldly, "Neither is it for criminals like you to judge. I know what I am and don't require your or anyone else's character certificate."

The reality, however, was different. Hermione was notified on Tuesday that Alexis would no longer be acting as Minister's personal ambassador in the Rochés case. That evening, tired and back from work, she had been planning to discuss the issue of Draco and Rochés Hotel with Audré when the letter from Alexis arrived. It had been short and to the point.

Dear Jean,

I just wanted to inform you that I resigned from the post of Minister's personal ambassador on Rochés trial and won't be officially available to work alongside you on it.

I know you are astonished and frowning at the letter now.

Hermione was frowning at the letter but she read on:

I regret it too. But after what happened to Mademoiselle Lillian, I reckon it will be best for both of us to be as distant as possible. Madame Audré knows everything. I am sure she can explain it to you more fully.

Yours sincerely,

Alexis Delacour.

Hermione had read the letter three times before finally asking Audré about it. The elderly woman had confirmed her worst speculations.

"We suspect that there are emissaries within the Ministry who are helping Rochés by providing him inside information." Audré had said, "They were present at the Ball where Lillian danced with Nicolas and knew that his father would be testifying against Rochés the next day. They conveyed it to Augustus who decided to use it as a last minute weapon to disarm me should I win the argument against his lawyer."

Hermione had heard from Alexis that Rochés might have spies inside the Ministry but hadn't paid it much attention. "But why Lillian? Why not me? I mean I am the one who is keeping contact with Pasteur. They even sent a warning letter to me." She had asked.

"Thanks Nostradamus that it was Lillian and not you." Audré's proclamation had stunned Hermione, "You are a married woman, Jean and your son is attending school. He is already facing embarrassments there for his esteemed father. Would you like him to face more of it when reports on his mother's alleged affair with her ex-fiancé appears on the newspaper?"

"But aunt, we are not having an affair." Hermione had countered, "I didn't even dance with Alexis at the Ball. I danced with Julian. But Delacours? They are my family and Alexis is a part of it. They can't possibly use that as an excuse to try to defame me."

"Your point is legit, Jean, but remember most people who read these columns neither know nor care about the truth." Audré had supplied, "They just want something juicy to gossip about and Rochés is providing them with it, just as he did when Morpheus and I got married. They will gloat over sensational news of affair between the Gringotts Chief Curse Breaker and Junior Undersecretary." she had shaken her head gravely, "Listen, Jean, I don't want you to suffer the same fate as Morpheus and I did. I don't want Adrian to be asked foul questions; I don't want his teachers to think that his mother's reluctance to be united with his father is actually due to her secret love for her ex-fiancé, Alexis Delacour. This is Wizarding world, Jean. Our population isn't as huge as Muggles where things like these can easily be ignored. We have one school where our kids go; one bank to withdraw our moneys; one Ministry to work. There aren't many options. The community is small and almost everyone knows about the Rochés, Malfoys and Chombruns and you, Jean, at this moment are at the centre of these three."

Hermione had sighed. Audré's logic, as always, was unarguably correct. "But his withdrawal right after that incident can raise questions too. Those who look for loopholes can use it against us."

"They can't." Audré had smiled mysteriously, "Alexis has arranged everything before leaving the post of ambassador."

"How?" Hermione was curious.

"He'll be promoted to the post of Senior Undersecretary very soon." Audré's words had rendered Hermione speechless for a while, "Needless to say that his work load will increase and he won't have time to perform extra duties."

"Alexis will become the Senior Undersecretary?" Hermione didn't know how to convey her surprise, "At twenty nine? The youngest ever Senior Undersecretary? And he didn't tell me?"

"It was decided only this morning." Audré had said kindly, "Even his parents don't know about it. I know because Guizot discussed it with me when Alexis resigned from the post. He is a wise man, Jean, and sensed Alexis's discomfort as soon as he laid down the application before him. Guizot is already mortified that you are being forced to meet Pasteur and receiving threat letters. He doesn't want to cause you anymore inconvenience."

Hermione had been silent for a very long time. She had had mixed feelings about the sudden turn of events: a deep sense of resentment when she imagined herself as Alexis's wife, happy for his promotion and a deep rush of gratitude for the Minister of Magic for taking care of her from distance.

"I must say, I have never been more impressed by a man than Alexis." Audré had remarked, "He cares for you so much, Jean, that he first considered returning to his previous post as Minister's advisor. Obviously, it meant demotion. But then the Minister said that he was very impressed with his work and would be promoting him very soon. The Senior Undersecretary, I assume, would become the Deputy Minister then."

Hermione couldn't speak for a very long time that night. The knowledge that someone loved her so unconditionally as to leave his hard earned post was very unnerving. She had folded the letter with his name and kept it under her pillow before going to sleep. She knew in her heart, she was his.

But was she? Was she Alexis's like that song had referred?

Hermione wondered now.

Hasn't Audré explained how her own soul was acting against her and forgiven her rapist? Wasn't she on a quest to find the truth?

"Is something troubling you, Jean?" Pasteur's voice brought Hermione back to reality. She realized she had been silent and staring at him absent-mindedly.

"Not quite." Hermione tried to lie convincingly, "I have just had a very stressful week." She rubbed her forehead wearily.

"I don't think so." Pasteur's voice was suddenly very silky smooth.

"I don't care what you think, Pasteur."

"Oh, you do. Because otherwise you wouldn't have cared to be as prepared as you are now. Don't think I haven't noticed your posture. No fidgeting. No uncomfortable shudder. No fear. It is as if we are equals."

"I am glad that we are not equals. I don't fancy becoming a murderer." Hermione said firmly, "Can we start it now?"

Pasteur's lips twitched into a smirk, "Start what, Jean?"

"The questions, of course. Or have you been expecting something else?"

"The manner in which you said 'we', Jean, for a moment I thought you might be referring to something…" Pasteur voice seemed to relish it, "…more intimate." He winked with a leery smile.

Hermione scoffed. 'Men! Can't they think of nothing but sex?' she thought with distaste, "My mum was right in saying that a man is known by the remarks he makes on women. You sound more like a street dog hungry for cheap shag, Pasteur, and not like someone who boasts himself as a criminal mastermind." She said dejectedly.

"Well said." Pasteur applauded mockingly, "But before you proceed with your long list of questions, Jean, let me warn you with this: I'll take nothing but the truth in exchange for the information I'll be providing you. Do you think you can afford it?"

"I can." Hermione replied confidently, "Unlike some, I can afford to tell the truth Pasteur because my life isn't based on lies and deceits."

"Charming." Pasteur commented nonchalantly, "Let's start then."

Hermione made a mental list of the questions she would be asking him. She chose the first one. It was the easiest.

"What is your real name, Pasteur?"

"My name is Pasteur, as everyone knows it. I don't have any other name."

"But 'Pasteur' as far as I know, is a title that you received from your followers."

"Whatever. I don't have any other names. What is your full name, Jean Granger?"

"What made you think I have any other name? I already told you my name is Jean."

"It doesn't require one to have two brains to figure out that you have a proper given name, Jean. You are an Englishwoman by birth and Jean is a common French name used equally for males and females. Even the surname, Granger is of mixed origin: English and French. If my memories are serving me right, Granger is an occupational name for a farm bailiff. You know what a farm bailiff does? He oversees the collection of rent and taxes from the barns and storehouses of the lord of the manor. It means that your forefathers were Anglo-Normans."

Hermione couldn't argue this time. Pasteur was correct in his analysis of her surname. "It's Hermione Jean Granger." she said plainly.

"Hermione. Jean. Granger." Pasteur separated each word and uttered them delicately, "Strange name. Was any of your immediate ancestors a Frenchwoman? A great great grandmother perhaps?"

"My Grandmother, my mum's mother was a French noblewoman. Her name was Jean Créquy." Hermione replied evenly.

"Créquy? Créquy?" Pasteur tapped on his parsed lips thoughtfully, "Is she anyway related to François Créquy? The great Muggle warrior and Marshal of France?"

"Yes. She was one of his many descendents. Now it's my turn, Pasteur. What is your blood status?"

"I never thought a day will come when a Mudblood will ask me about my blood status."

"Don't try to go around my question, Pasteur. You were part of a gang who hunted purebloods for helping Muggles and Muggleborns. You can't be a pureblood nor can you be a Muggleborn."

"To be honest, I don't know what I am. But tell me, Jean, does it really matter?"

"Everything about the Knights matter, Pasteur. It isn't quite believable that a man who knows everything from my surname to my French Muggle ancestors doesn't know about his own. You are hiding the truth from me and I can call off our deal."

"You can, Jean but you are neither foolish nor impulsive to do so. You are here to acquire more information on Knights and no one but I can provide you with that."

"Don't play with words, Pasteur. For every question that you answer truthfully, you'll receive an equally truthful answer from me."

"What a tempting offer! Should I deny it? I wonder." Pasteur sighed mockingly, "I think not." He replied, "I don't know what my blood status is, Jean. I was brought up in a Muggle orphanage. Presumably someone had left an illegitimate child on their doorsteps one night and they took it in to be raised with the other children. I didn't know about my proper heritage until I was six and blew up a boy for trying to take away my only toy - a grubby and broken car. I still remember him hanging from the tree by one ankle. Ah! What a scene!"

Hermione was strongly reminded of Voldemort.

"Then one fine day, a strange looking man and woman came to visit me in the orphanage. They told the Matron that I was their long lost son and would like to take me back home. They even showed them proof my parentage and I was let to go with them. Tell me about your childhood Hermione Jean. Did you grow up in an orphanage like me?"

"No." Hermione replied, "I am the only child of my dentist parents. Were they really your parents?"

"No." Pasteur replied nonchalantly, "It turned out that I was a wizard and they were from a place called the Ministry of Magic." He declared with flourish, "They had lied previously when they said they were my parents so that they could take me out of that Muggle orphanage. I was brought to a Wizarding orphanage run by the Ministry. Like everyone there, I too, attended St. Joan's and Beauxbatons. Where are your parents now? Do they live in France?"

Hermione suppressed a deep sigh, "No. They live in Australia."

"Why Australia of all places?"

"Because they wanted to. It was their dream to move to Australia. It's a very nice place. When were you recruited by the Knights and why?"

"Something doesn't sound quite right here." Pasteur ignored Hermione's question, "Why would your parents' move to Australia leaving their only daughter and grandson in France?"

Hermione huffed. At this rate, Pasteur would slowly take out all her secrets.

"They aren't gone permanently, Pasteur. They visit us during the summer. We visit them too."

Pasteur shook his head and tsk'ed, "Plain lie, Jean. You have never been to Australia. I can guarantee that. Either you are telling me the truth or I am not telling you about me."

Hermione measured her chances against Pasteur. The man was undoubtedly a very good observer. Besides, his past was more fascinating than hers. She decided to take a different path.

"Fine." She said, "I wiped their memories and made them to move to Australia."

"Why?" came the inevitable question.

"Because their lives were in danger. During the Second Wizarding War Mudbloods like me were enlisted and hunted down by thugs called the Snatchers. Even the Ministry had declared a prize money on our heads. I didn't want them to kill my parents while looking for me. So I planted a false memory in their heads and made them believe that they were in fact Wendell and Monica Wilkies whose life dream was to move to Australia which they did. This way they were safe."

"Why didn't you leave with your parents? That way you'd be safe too?"

"I couldn't. I am a Gryffindor and they never run away. My friends and school was in imminent danger. I wasn't going sit like a coward while my loved ones perished."

"Commendable courage." Pasteur finally seemed convinced by her tactful truth.

"Pasteur, you were telling me something about yourself." Hermione reminded him firmly.

"Oh, yes, how I was recruited by the Knights?" Pasteur feigned forgetfulness, "While at school I was pretty famous for my convincing abilities. I could convince anyone to do anything; without Imperius or Legilimency and only with my words. Like I convinced you to talk about yourself." He gave a satisfied smirk, "Once, I convinced a very annoying girl to hang herself and she was about to do so when her friends saved her. I was accused of attempted second degree murder and thrown out of school. I still fail to comprehend why they did it. It was nothing but for fun." He shrugged, "I was sixteen then and as an undergraduat, had no chances of a job with good pay. Neither did I have any fund to start my own business. I was wondering what I would be doing for my future when a certain man by the name of Marcus Rochés took me to his home. He said he had heard of my special abilities in convincing people and wanted me to work for him. In return he'd take care of my educational expenses. Why aren't you bringing back your parents?" he asked her suddenly, "The War, as far as I have learned from my sources, is long over. That Potter boy killed the Dark Lord in 1998. Your parents are safe now. You can lift the Memory Charm and they can return to their homeland. Why aren't you doing it, Jean? Or are you hiding something from them?"

"I am hiding nothing, Pasteur, not from you or my parents." Hermione insisted, "Yes, I can go and try to lift their Memory Charms but it's pretty tough."

"Why?"

"Because Australia has vast lands." Hermione replied, feeling exhausted by Pasteur's persistent interrogation, "It's a continent, Pasteur, not a country. Besides, I chose the names of Wendell and Monica because they are pretty common Muggle names so that no one can trace them even if they somehow came to know that they are my parents. Now my plan backfired on me. Chances are that they are ten thousand Wendell and Monica Wilkies living in Australia. It isn't possible for me to search them all and separate my parents from among them."

"I admit it is tough but not for a woman like you, Jean." Pasteur supplied shrewdly, "You are the Chief Curse Breaker of Gringotts and I am sure you can find a way if you really want to. There must be some other reason behind your reluctance to go there."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, "Pasteur, you are being deliberately distrustful. I told you the truth and now it's your turn. You said Marcus Rochés wanted to pay for your education and in return he offered you to work for him. What kind of work? Where did you go to study?"

Pasteur rubbed his hands and considered Hermione's questions for a while.

"I was sent to Durmstrang for my sixth and seventh year. It was where Augustus too was sent. His brother Gaius 'the chicken heart', however, attended Beauxbatons. That's where he met his Audré. I say, every family has a black sheep and Gaius was the black sheep of Rochés."

"What was your work? Did he tell you to join the Knights?" Hermione reminded him the original query.

"Let's keep that question for the end and move on to your life. How did you meet Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione was more than well prepared for this question. She knew Pasteur was extremely interested in her relationship with the Slytherin; his last remarks on the wideness of her pelvis or Draco marrying her for she had bore him a son was enough to point that out.

"We met at school. I believe you remember our last conversation, Pasteur."

"I do, Jean. I remember it very well. In fact I am curious to learn what about a Mudblood such as yourself must have attracted a bigot like Malfoy?"

"I don't know. You can ask him if you like."

"You don't seem to like your husband very much. I noticed how cold you were with him when he came to your aid."

"I am always like this, Pasteur, the damn care type. Accept me like this or leave me."

"I don't think so. You were pretty charming with that Delacour guy."

"What do you expect me to do, Pasteur? Wash my husband's feet and drink the water on daily basis?" Hermione asked coolly, "I am not the conventional pureblood wife whose highest bidding is her husband's orders. I am Hermione Jean Granger, the great Mudblood. I follow Muggle rules of relationship with my husband. He knows it well and abides by it. Now let's go back to you again. I assume that you have read that article on the trial since you seemingly enjoyed ridiculing my sister-in-law. Tell me now. How much of it is true?"

"How much of what is true?" Pasteur arched an eyebrow.

"The Knights." Hermione affirmed, "Did they really target the purebloods who helped or fought for the Muggleborns?"

"Before I answer your question, Jean, tell me how long have you been living in France?"

"Almost seven years."

"Seven years. Hmm. Then tell me how much do you know about the French Wizarding community? Their mode of living? Their lifestyles?"

"It isn't very different from Britain. There, we followed International Statute of Secrecy and the French also follow it though…"

"I am not interested in long lectures on boring and useless laws. I asked for your observation, Jean. Have you observed any difference between British and French Wizarding societies?"

"There is cultural difference and…"

"I get it. You haven't observed it or maybe you saw but didn't realize. Very poor performance for a Chief Curse Breaker."

"Maybe." Hermione shrugged, "Or maybe I know but am not letting it out."

"You can't manipulate Pasteur, Jean. You may be a brave woman but you don't have that ability. But your aunt, surely has it in her. That Audré. A very good manipulator." He winked.

"You are wasting our time in idle chitchat Pasteur."

"No. I am not. I am just testing you. Tell me will you be truthful about your relationship with Draco Malfoy if I tell you about the Knights?"

"I am being truthful, Pasteur.'

"Not quite. You are being partially truthful."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Pasteur, I am not here to discuss my private life with you."

"I am sorry, Jean, but we agreed to be truthful to each other. Right?"

"Fine. What do you want to know? How many times do we have sex in one week or if I have any extramarital affair? Multiple if possible?" Hermione mocked.

Pasteur shook his head, "I'll come to that point later." He said silkily, "First let me quench your thirst. The Knights were conceived on the wake of the Dark Lord's visit to France; even before the Death Eaters came into being."

"It was in late 40's. He was travelling extensively to know more about the Wizarding population in Europe and started with his neighbouring country: France. His visit was arranged by the Malfoys, who were his ardent supporters from the very beginning. Apparently, Abraxas Malfoy, Morpheus and Lucius's father, was one of Dark Lord's earliest supporters since his time in Hogwarts and he used his French influences to make the trip a memorable one. Their closest allies in France were the Rochés. Abraxas contacted Augustus's father, Marcus Rochés and told him that one of his mentors would be visiting France soon. It was decided that the Dark Lord would stay at their palace while in Paris. Now tell me, Jean, how old is your son?"

Hermione was immensely irritated by the interruption on what was a very crucial piece of information. "He'll turn six this January." She replied curtly, "What happened next? Did Voldemort come?"

"Voldemort? A Mudblood addressing the Dark Lord by his name?"

"Fear of name increases fear the thing itself, Pasteur. I, maybe a Mudblood but I am not a coward."

"Curious." Pasteur remarked, "Six years you said? That means your son was conceived during the war? How was it that Malfoy got the chance to bang a Mudblood who was a wanted fugitive? Are you a victim of wartime rape?"

Even before the real meaning of the question hit her, Hermione's mouth was as dry as the sandpaper.

'Cool, Hermione, cool. He is trying to coerce you into telling the truth.' A voice said inside her head, 'Don't be scared. You have faced worse and came out unscathed. Just relax.'

"Then by your implications I am married to my rapist." Hermione fought valiantly to keep her demeanor as calm as possible, "Me? The Chief Curse Breaker of Gringotts? And I thought you were a mastermind?" she sneered.

"Don't jump into wrong conclusions, Jean." Pasteur offered, "Let's see the oddities I considered before asking you that question. You are a British Mudblood living in France, who has a half-blood son and is married to a bigot pureblood by the name of Draco Malfoy whom she doesn't seem to like very much. She never went back to her parents who live in Australia. When too many unusual things, such as these happen at once, Jean, one can't help but jump into extreme conclusions. It's quite possible that Draco Malfoy raped you the day that mark was engraved into your skin and you became pregnant. You left your country fearing the mighty Malfoys who wouldn't allow a bastard in the family and came here with your son to avoid being murdered."

"I wasn't raped and nor is my son a bastard." Hermione applied all her patience and skill to appear extremely indifferent, "You are trying to intimidate me, Pasteur; that wasn't our deal."

"Then how is that you two ended up in bed? Lucius Malfoy would have killed his son had he known it. How is that a Mudblood hooked a bigot pureblood like Draco?"

Hermione considered the question before answering it tactfully.

"It's true that Draco banged me during the war." She used the word with more intensity than Pasteur did, "We met and it was…unavoidable." She was surprised of own tone as she spoke of her rape so nonchalantly, "Since it was sudden…and we were both teenagers who hadn't considered using a Contraception Charm, I became pregnant. I knew the Malfoys wouldn't allow a Muggleborn or a half-blood in their family. Draco also wasn't ready to go against his family and so I didn't tell him that I was pregnant with his child. But I wasn't going to get rid of the baby either. It was my baby. So I decided to come here and raise him away from Malfoys."

"I can sense some lie in that statement, Jean." he said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, "You have kept something from me."

"No, I haven't." Hermione was determined not to be beaten down by Pasteur in the game of words, "Do you want to know how and where it happened? Are you interested to know the details of that sexual encounter? How he touched me? Where he touched me and what kind of pleasure I had from it?"

Had it not been before Pasteur, Hermione would've vomited before uttering such words about her violation. Even after seven years, the memories of that incident was fresh in her mind and she could still feel Draco's naked form slithering over her as she fought to break free.

"No, I am not interested in porn, Jean." Pasteur shook his head, his penetrating gaze almost passing through Hermione, "But I wonder why you are overreacting to a mere word as 'rape' if you weren't raped? Besides, what's wrong if you were raped? In my opinion it should be enjoyed rather than be overpowered and molested."

"Indeed." Hermione nodded, feeling her mouth go bitter from bile, "Anything else you want to offer from your fathomless knowledge on rape?"

"Of course." Pasteur smirked, "Had you seen as much life as I have seen, Jean, you would have known that rape is nothing but an irresistible impulse that one can't avoid in the presence of certain ladies." He took care to pronounce 'ladies' with a gut wrenching delicacy.

"Irresistible impulse?" Hermione felt like throwing up on Pasteur, "You are sicker than I ever took you, Pasteur. But we'll talk about that later. Now you tell me what happened after Voldemort visited France."

"You are very fascinating, Jean, very fascinating. So full of contrasts and how much I like it!" Pasteur smiled in a way that made Hermione's skin crawl, "Here is the rest of the story."

"The Dark Lord arrived at Paris and stayed at the Rochés' place. He wasn't fully known as Lord Voldemort then and therefore successfully avoided the Ministry's tight regulation on not permitting dark wizards inside the country. His prime concern was to know more about the French Wizarding community and what he learned, made him furious."

"The reason why I asked you about French Wizarding community is Jean, unlike the British, the our community likes to live with Muggles or more precisely beside them as their neighbours. It's the French Ministry's strategy to have us camouflaged so that the poor creatures can't notice us. If you observe closely, you'll see that our small population has infiltrated most of Muggle important establishments and is successfully running alongside them. Sorbonne – the largest university, la poste Louvre – the biggest post office, Ministry of defense – the most secure place in entire France for the Ministry of Magic. The list is growing and endless. We are everywhere."

"But like every good thing that has some unpleasant side effects, this magical – Muggle mingling had undesired outcomes too. While most sensible wizards and witches would avoid Muggles, there were some who would like to be their friends. They were mostly purebloods who didn't have proper dignity. While living side by side, they started having good relationships with their unsuspecting neighbours and it inevitably culminated into their harbouring a soft spot for Muggles. They'd help them in trouble, nurse them back to health using our potions and fight for their rights. What an abomination!"

"When the Dark Lord learned that the only elementary school for magical kids was named after a Muggle woman – that Joan of Arc, he was appalled and enraged. How was it possible that a school that gave primary education to future Wizarding citizens to be named after a common Muggle woman? He decided to take the matters at hand and thus the Knights of Walpurgis was conceived."

"Our motto was to get rid of those purebloods who supported Muggles, Mudbloods and half-bloods and teach the rest what their proper place in the society was: beneath our feet." Pasteur thrashed an invisible Muggle under his shoe in cruel pleasure, "In order to do so we made an underground group who'd monitor purebloods closely and warn them should their love for Muggles ran too high. If they came back to right track, well and good; if not, kill them."

"How would they do that?" Hermione leaned forward in barely concealed curiosity.

"The price of that truth is very high, Jean." Pasteur arched an eyebrow, "I might ask you questions that are very private."

"I know what you'll ask and I assure you that I am ready." Hermione replied confidently, "Tell me more."

Pasteur shrugged, "As you wish."

"The Knights had a three tier chain of command." he commenced with an infuriating smirk, "In our previous meeting I told you that there were Three Musketeers – Lé compositeur, le fou and le Pasteur. Le Pasteur, that's me, was the Preacher and the first stage. My job was to go to those so-called purebloods, who contained in their hearts a sea of love for the Mudbloods and Muggles, and try to persuade them to leave such an abominable path. Most of them would fear the name of Rochés once I explained to them on whose behalf I am working and the possible implications it might bring upon them should they try to counter him. For the selected few who wouldn't comply easily, I redirected their sad cases to the second stage."

"Lé compositeur or the Composer of letters, Jacques Mesrine, was the second stage. His work was to send those stubborn purebloods warning letters. He gave them only three chances to come off their foul propaganda to stand for those Mudbloods. Mesrine's letters could do wonders and most of those who had turned down my earlier offer would take the threat more seriously now and leave the Muggles be. But there were a few unfortunate ones who wouldn't listen even with Jacques Mesrine's delightful letters. For them we had our last stage."

"Le fou or the Insane was the man who carried out the execution of those purebloods who wouldn't stop at nothing in their fight for justice on behalf of Mudbloods and extra-judicial killings of Muggles. He got us rid of a few annoying and insistent stupids including a columnist who was a strong supporter and writer on equal rights for Mudbloods, half bloods and purebloods; a Healer who used to heal terminally ill Muggles with her potions and medicines and a Beauxbatons professor who thought that Mudbloods were gifted wizards and witches and preached everyone to follow her filthy beliefs."

"Together we got rid of many of such so called purebloods but I think these four murders will be enough to earn my dear Augustus a Kiss from the lovely Dementors." he seemed highly delighted on the prospect.

"Tell me their names." Hermione bade, forgetting her earlier distaste for Pasteur, "We need to contact them as soon as possible."

But the prisoner shook his head, "Not before I learn if you were ever intimate with someone else other than your husband."

"Does it matter?"

"I assure you it does."

Hermione closed her eyes and killed her conscience before answering.

"No." she said firmly, "After Draco, I lost my faith in all men. They are deceiving creatures who know nothing but to disrespect women. I detest them and it gave me power to ascend where I am today, an all male post."

"Then how is that you got married to Malfoy?"

"He persuaded me."

"How?"

"He came out of blue and Claimed my son one night. I had no choice but to marry him. Now can I have the names?"

Pasteur was smiling now, a very different one that he usually portrayed.

"Thank you, Jean, for being truthful even if it was partial. I, however, will be completely truthful to my words and will give you all their names today. I assure you that even with that, you'll have to come back to me very soon."

"Names please, Pasteur." Hermione reminded him firmly.

"Write them down if you like." Pasteur leaned back on his bed.

"Joelle Hadjikian, the pureblood journalist who wrote for Mudblood's rights."

"Ambroise Paré, the Healer who had treated numerous Muggles secretly."

"Nadia Boulanger, the Beauxbatons teacher who expelled me and preached that Mudbloods weren't very different from us."

"And Robert 'Delacroix' Guathiot, the pureblood, who saved two Muggle soldiers and received a Muggle medal for it." Hermione whispered, suddenly seeing light at the end of the tunnel as the pieces started falling together, "What about the Muggle families you killed? What was their crime?"

"That I can't tell you now. I am pretty tired, Jean." Pasteur yawned loudly and laid down on his bed, "I guess that's enough for both of us. You can fly back to your possessive husband now." he said dismissively.

Hermione had many unanswered questions when she returned home with Sergeant.

How Pasteur knew the story of Voldemort? Was he there at that time? How much did he know about the Malfoy's affiliation with Rochés? Was Augustus really behind all the killings? And why was the Muggles killed if the Knights only opted for purebloods? Why he called Gaius as a black sheep? Why Marcus paid for his education? Was it only to keep him on his side? Was he really being truthful?

"Don't worry, Madame Granger, we'll take care of the names Pasteur has provided." Sergeant said, deciphering her silence incorrectly, "But I must admire your commendable courage. Not many grown up officers can take Pasteur as bravely as you did today."

Hermione was preparing for a modest reply when her son's voice almost pierced her eardrums.

"MAMA! YOU CAME!"

The little boy came running to her and Hermione, relieved to see her son, wrapped him in her arms.

"You have been a good boy, haven't you little rabbit?" she enquired, giving him a kiss on forehead. Adrian was the infinite source solace and in his smile she found a reason to want to live even in such state of despair.

"Mama!" Adrian exclaimed loudly, glancing at Monsieur Sergeant, "Not before him." He warned her.

"Oh yeah." Hermione remembered how her son didn't like to be addressed 'little rabbit' in public for the fear of being misperceived as little in true sense, "Did you have a good ride with Uncle Julian?"

"I did." Adrian tilted his head happily, "Is the Minister doing well?" he asked her.

For the purpose of convenience, Hermione had described her meetings with Pasteur as a help to the Minister of Magic rather than one-on-one mind-numbing sessions with a criminal mastermind. The clever idea had paid off well. Adrian was overjoyed that his mother was directly helping the Minister and had been quick to inform Hermione that none of his friends' mothers has attained that feat.

"I'll write it in my next essay on you." he had said proudly, "My Mama helps the Minister of Magic."

The declaration had inevitably led to her checking Adrian's first essay on her. She was surprised to find how the little boy wrote on his mother with honest passion and adoration. It was long and full of complements. But the most interesting part was Adrian's depiction of his so called father - Draco Malfoy. His part of essay was very short and full of spelling errors; even Draco had been spelled with a K instead of a C. Hermione had wondered what the Slytherin's reaction would be if he ever came across Adrian's essay on his parents.

"Now that you are in the arms of your little son…" Sergeant lifted his hat with a smile that lessened his severe features, "I take your leave, Madame." He said courteously and after Hermione's approving nod he started for the apparition point.

"The Minister is doing just fine." Hermione replied in response to her son's previous query, "He sent a lot of love for my little rabbit." She took Adrian's hand in hers and started for the Château entrance. She had a lot to share with Audré about Pasteur.

"Mama, can the Minister do everything?" Adrian asked her as they stepped on the bottom step of the stairs leading to the main door.

Hermione smiled. It was funny to watch little kids think someone could be as powerful as to do everything, "Not everything, dearest, but he can do many things that you and I can't." She replied.

"Like what?" Adrian pressed the point.

Hermione shook her head. Her son has taken after his mother in terms of curiosity for surroundings. "Like he can make important laws or change the existing ones. He can take important decisions that are necessary for the witches and wizards. He can…" she would have explained it more fully had Adrian's next question not thrown her off guard.

"Mama, can he change my papa?"

Hermione was about to push open the main door when she stopped mid track and collided with it. She stared at the ornate door for a whole minute, not believing her ears.

"Mama, can he change my papa?" Adrian tugged her hand impatiently, "Can he give me Uncle Alexis?"

All her air completely knocked off her body, Hermione slowly turned and looked down at her son. Adrian's innocent features were sincere and with a heavy heart she noted, sad too.

"I have written a letter to him." The little boy took out a piece of parchment from his trouser pocket and handed it to her, totally oblivious of his mother's stunned look, "Will you give it to him next time?"

Hermione shifted her gaze to the letter. Her fingers were numb and senseless as she unfolded it and read. Adrian's large loopy handwriting stated:

Monsieur Mini star,

Bonjour.

My name is Adrian Thomas Granger. My mama is Jean Granger. She is very brave. She works in greengots. My father is draco malfoy. He works at the ministree. But I don't like him. He is creepy. Very very much. First he tried to take me away from mama. then he lied to me. then he screemed at mama. he is very scary. I don't want him as my father. I want uncle Alecsis. He is a very good man. he made a sord for me. He loves me. I love him. my mama likes him too. You are mini star of magic. Can you please make uncle Alecsis my papa?

merci,

Adrian.

Hermione read and reread the letter several times in a row before her feet lost their power to bear her weight. She tottered a few steps and slumped on the topmost step of the stairs, still staring at the letter.

Like Adrian's previous essay, this letter to the Minister was a written portrayal of his thoughts regarding his parents. Until very recently Hermione hasn't considered her son to be emotionally as developed as to perceive that his life has changed forever. Kids, she has read in books on their psychology, were more honest and forgot more rapidly than the adults did. She had thought that, like most kids of his age, Adrian too has forgotten all about their little conversation on Alexis going to be his future father and was slowly trying to adapt to his new family: the Chombrun Malfoys. He has even shown signs of great liking for grandma Audré and her children, his favourite Uncle Julian and Aunt Lilli. But this letter, the one she was holding in her senseless fingers, was a big blow to those wrongful presumptions.

Adrian has not forgotten Hermione's words of giving him a father who would be Alexis Delacour neither has he adapted with his real father Draco Malfoy. His attitude towards him was of nothing but obligation while internally he craved to have a father he liked and could look up to. The letter was also a clear indication that her son was as secretive as his mother; he hasn't shared his thoughts regarding Draco with her verbally, evidently noticing her discomfort on the topic and hence has taken up a different path to express his true feelings: a letter to the Minister whom he regarded as powerful as to change his father.

"Is the letter alright, Mama?" Hermione heard Adrian ask her, "Did I make spelling mistakes?"

Hermione gulped. The answer was a 'yes'; that her son has made quite a few spelling mistakes starting from minister to ministry, Gringotts, screamed and last but not the least, Alexis. Had it been a different occasion, she would have sat down and corrected them all. But now it was immaterial. It was not the spelling but the underlying meaning of the letter that her son has written.

"No…" she cleared her throat to make it produce some sensible sound, "…no…it's fine." she smiled at him, "It's really really fine, dearest." she drew him closer and the little boy came to sit beside her on the stair step, "But it has a different problem." She said kindly.

"What problem?" Adrian asked her, snatching the letter and checking it with his wide grey eyes, "I wrote Bonjour, Mama. I am polite with the minister." He said, deciphering Hermione's words as lack of politeness while addressing his elders.

"It's not that, dearest." It was painful for Hermione to smile. She felt like to have grown a hundred years old in just one morning that started with gruesome discovery of her soul's betrayal, a very mind-numbing meeting session with Pasteur and a letter written by her son asking the minister to change his father. "It's just that the Minister, no matter how powerful he might be, can't change your father and give you Alexis."

"Why not?" Adrian's tender scream almost pierced Hermione's eardrums. He looked highly disappointed and furious. "He is the Minister." He emphasized the word, "You said he can do things we can't."

"Yes, yes I said that." Hermione nodded, trying not to lose her mind. She felt like banging her head on the wall and crying for being so honest to her son that it would evidently break his little and innocent dreams. "But even the Minister can't interfere into someone else's private life, little rabbit. His job is to take decision in the matter of state or country and not about me and Monsieur." She tried to be simple.

"Then who can?" Adrian seemed not very eager to let the point go, "I'll write to him." he said pouting his pink lips.

"Why? What's wrong with Monsieur?" Hermione couldn't believe that she was asking her son the question knowing very well what 'was' wrong with Draco, "I see that you have spelled his name correctly this time." She pointed out, looking at the C that has replaced the K, "You liked the persimmons he brought from Italy."

She knew it was a futile attempt to uplift the image of a man she hated with the every fiber of her being. She knew her son, like his mother, wouldn't let go of the topic so easily. Even she wouldn't have accepted a man as her father who had left her mother and tried to kidnap her. But the situations were different now. Not only Adrian was suffering internally for having Draco as his father but also he was cooking up impossible plans to get rid of him and as a mother she wasn't going to sit and watch while her only child thrashed to be free and broke down once he realized that there was no visible way out of this. He was just a little kid. What did he know of the cruelties of life? Hadn't Hermione vowed to protect him from all evils of the world and preserve his innocent heart?

"Persimmon is not creepy, Mama. Monsieur is." Adrian was very clear cut in his answer, "I don't like him. I don't want to go with him for the broom ride."

Hermione sighed internally. Among the numerous problems she has been facing recently, one was brought upon by the letter that Draco had delivered to Adrian minutes before he shouted at her on Monday night. Thanks Merlin that the little boy wasn't very accustomed to swear words and hadn't understood the 'bastard' Draco had used on that occasion. He had stared at the broken bowl of cheese and told his mother that Monsieur was 'very very very bad'.

Later that week, he had pronounced that he wasn't looking forward to the broom ride since it required his father to accompany him. Hermione had purposefully kept the topic until Draco returned from Italy and she got the opportunity to strangle him first before presenting him to Adrian to take care of the matter. But that moment never came. The cunning Slytherin has been avoiding her like a filthy coward snake. And then came the fateful night of her soul's alleged union with Draco's. What could be more humiliating for a woman to be united with her rapist?

Hermione wondered how she was going to contact Draco. Should she Floo him? Send him a Patronus or a letter? But would he reply if was deliberately avoiding her? What was he playing at actually? At one time he was following her and trying to hunt her down and at another, he was screaming at her and then avoiding her like hell. What was his motive? Was he mentally disturbed? Was she going to be stuck with a madman for the rest of her life while her son lived in resentment that he couldn't have the father he liked to have?

"Let's talk about it when Monsieur returns home." Hermione offered the most rational option to her son. She tried hard to behave like normal couples did in such situations, "I am sure we can settle this with him and you can take Uncle Julian with you as you wanted."

But before Adrian could reply a cold drawl came from behind.

"What's it that you want to settle with me, Hermione?"

It was none other than Draco Malfoy, the very man she was seeking so desperately for her answers.

Startled, Hermione whipped around and so did Adrian. They stood up and to her immense surprise he came before her, spread his arms wide and covered her body with her small form as if defending her. Draco however stood perfectly still, calm and showed no indication of losing his mask of mocked politeness any sooner. In fact he looked very different in the last of the afternoon sunlight.

To Hermione, who gave him the look of maximum hatred and fury, he looked quite pale and ill. There were dark circles under his eyes. His usual back-combed sleek blonde hair was disheveled. His attire of green shirt and grey trousers were pretty much disarrayed as if he had donned them in hurry. But it was his eyes that Hermione noticed most for she remembered them being blind in her dream.

But this afternoon, this moment that she was observing the most detested man for the first time in her life, those eyes neither appeared coveting nor cruel or leering. They were simply tired and very concerned.

As Hermione watched, they lingered on her for while before going down and resting on her son who was still standing like an iron shield before her.

"What's wrong, Adrian?" he asked him calmly, standing before the main door. He seemed to be on his way to some new hideout and collided with them instead. He however seemed to have decided not to show his discomfort in being caught so and appeared very gentle. "Why are you standing like that?" he referred to his protective posture.

"YOU WILL NOT SCREAM AT MAMA." the little boy screamed at him instead.

"I wasn't." Draco seemed taken aback but he replied nonetheless.

"YOU WILL NOT HURT HER."

Draco, if possible, became even paler, "I am not hurting your Mama, Adrian. I promised I won't. Ever."

"BUT YOU SCREAMED AT HER. LOUIS'S PAPA DOESN'T SCREAM AT HIS MAMA." it seemed Adrian was determined to throw all his poisons and complaints at his father this very moment, "GRANDPA GUSTAVE DOESN'T SCREAM AT GRANDMA."

At his honest and invincible logic Hermione was shocked and Draco temporarily speechless. He shook his head wearily, rubbed his face and looked up at the afternoon sky, the last of its red vestige finally disappearing into the darkness of the upcoming evening.

It was then that Hermione was struck by an impossibly good idea. Slowly but fervently, she held out the letter for Draco. She was curious to know what his reaction to this letter would be.

The man eyed it for a split second before coming forward (Adrian stood on guard of his mother) and taking it. She waited patiently as the Slytherin's grey eyes moved down the bit of parchment.

She expected him to lash put like an angry lunatic upon reading it. Hermione personally would have dug her own grave and buried herself in it in shame had her son wrote this letter on her. But the Slytherin did none. He simply folded the letter neatly, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them and looked down solemnly at his furious son.

"Can we please talk before you send that letter to the Minister and he considers replacing me with your dear uncle Alexis?" His tone was very polite and patient, "Can we talk? Like a man to a man?"

"A man to a man?" Adrian immediately noticed the word Draco used to address him, "You mean I am Mama's man and you are a man?"

"No." Draco shook his head and knelt before Adrian, "We are both your Mama's man. I am her husband. You are her son." he said gently.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She'd prefer to be a widow than have her rapist husband be her man.

"Then why did you scream at Mama?" Adrian went back to his earlier query, "I saw it."

Hermione expected the impatient Slytherin to lash out at this jibe but astonishingly he didn't. Instead he looked up at her and said, "I was planning to apologize to her for it but didn't get the opportunity. I was very busy with my work, Adrian."

Hermione couldn't be more appalled at the white lie Draco has just stated. It was universally acclaimed that he had been avoiding her after that night and now he was claiming that he had wanted to offer his apology but couldn't do so due to pressure of some work that Hermione knew were virtually non-existent. She simply arched an eyebrow at him and smirked uncharacteristically. "Indeed." She nodded, conveying that she wasn't fooled by his words.

Draco, however, had the sense to not respond and returned to Adrian. "So what do you say? Can we talk like two grown up men?"

"Two grown up men?" sensing no further danger, Adrian lowered his arms and contemplated the offer, "Okay." He tilted his head in agreement, visibly liking the idea of being called a grown up man.

"Thank you very much, Adrian." Draco smiled at him and straightened up. He even gave a polite smile to Hermione which she ignored completely. "Why don't we go inside and talk? It's pretty cold outside." He said as he handed the letter back to her and held open the door for them.

Taking a deep breath and remembering Audré's words on trying to know Draco Malfoy as a last resort to free herself from him, Hermione took Adrian's hand and proceeded to enter the Château. She knew she hated him no matter what her soul had done but she wasn't going to let that be the thorn on her son's way. Her love for Adrian was million times more than her hatred for Draco Malfoy.

•••••

Draco was lying on bed, clad in his rich green bath robe when a knock was issued on his suite door.

He didn't move. He was too tired to even blink and needed a sleep. Thus the door has been locked and he was lying on his bed.

Even for a Malfoy who was working his best, last two days had been very busy. Draco had spent the morning following recovery of Hermione's locket in implementing his plans to return it to her through Old Yves. He needed certain things for it and they have been procured. His next destination had been Muggle super shops. He was looking for Benedicks Bittermint there.

But the answer, after scouring thirty six shops in a row accompanied by Dominique had all been the same:

"Sorry, Monsieur. We don't keep foreign products. They are costlier than local ones. Besides, our customers like the French Bittermints that we usually sell."

Draco had cursed them all under his breath but moved on to the next shop in his pursuit of Hermione's favourite chocolate brand. She had wanted to eat them when she was pregnant and for want of money and display of patriotic fairness, couldn't. Now, there was no way he would rest until he found Benedicks Bittermints for her. Draco's feet had ached from all the walking but he hadn't stopped until he reached the disappointing but inevitable conclusion: Benedicks Bittermints was not available in France because they claim they have better and cheaper local products.

He had wondered if Hermione ever confided to Bill Weasley to bring them for her. Knowing her better now, the chances were next to zero. The woman detested involving others in such trivial matters as a special brand of Bittermints. But for Draco, it wasn't trivial. Everything about Hermione was extremely important to him.

Tired and beaten down, he had bade goodbye to his companion and returned home. He had enjoyed a short berating session from his mother for being careless on his health. The woman, in Draco's opinion, was becoming an enigma like Audré was. She would be cold to him for his crime and yet would worry if he didn't return home one night.

The knock came again but this time it was accompanied by a male voice.

"Draco, I know you are there. Please don't snivel in a corner."

It was Julian. Draco felt like getting up and kicking on his butt for disturbing his hard-earned peace. He decided not to reply and let Julian reap the benefit of doubt that he was asleep. Besides, why would he snivel? Just because he had locked himself up and cried his eyes out the afternoon he found Adrian didn't mean he'd do the same again?

"Draco, I know you are awake. Please open the door. It's urgent."

Draco ignored it again. He was extremely tired to even listen to his babbling.

"It's about Jean and Adrian, Draco." came Julian's urgent voice with a loud thump on his closed door, "Maman sent me because they are sitting outside. In cold."

Draco sat bolt upright.

'Hermione and Adrian were sitting outside? In cold?'

'What the…' he couldn't finish his thought as he leapt to his feet and rushed to answer the door personally this time.

He met a pretty grave looking Julian who pushed him roughly aside and entered the suite.

"May I know what are you doing here clad in this warm bathrobe when your family is freezing outside?" he demanded coolly, "Trying to think of a plan to woo Jean?"

"She is my wife, Julian." Draco warned him sternly.

"Yeah right, your wife." Julian shot back, "A wife you forced to marry you. A wife you scream at before your son. A wife you don't even meet after you return from a trip."

"I have my reasons to avoid her." Draco retorted. He was simply tired of being misunderstood all the time. "Besides, I didn't know that they are sitting out in the cold." He confessed.

"Yeah, yeah, you don't know." Julian, the ever merry man, was very angry for some mysterious reason, "Why should you know? Why should you care that your wife spent the entire evening in Pasteur's company? Why should you want to know what was in that letter that your son received? Why should you care if he doesn't want to take you for the broom ride he won?"

"Slow down." Draco's exhausted head was spinning from false allegations and new pieces of information, "Hermione went to meet Pasteur? Who escorted her there? Alexis?" he went for the first burning issue.

"Now you care, right?" Julian snapped angrily, "When you think that your wife accompanied by a man you don't like? Bloody hypocrite. Don't think I haven't noticed the filthy looks you give Alexis."

Draco would have cursed his cousin had his wand been in the vicinity. Unfortunately the infernal piece of wood was lying on his nightstand where he placed it when he took off his clothes and changed into bathrobe.

"I am not a bloody hypocrite you bloody fool!" He cried in outrage, "How could you say that? I was avoiding Hermione because I couldn't make myself to face her after I screamed at her that night."

"What an immensely clever and diplomatic move!" Julian scoffed cruelly, "For your kind information, Jean wasn't accompanied to the prison by Alexis. Sergeant took her there. Why?" he deciphered Draco's frown correctly, "That's your duty to find out. You are her husband. As for my anger, I can only say that you are a complete arsehole. You don't deserve that broom ride with Adrian."

"What the fucking broom ride?" Draco cried out in exasperation, "Care to explain?"

"No. Go and find it out for yourself." Julian spat and left his suite, closing the door behind him with a loud slam.

Cursing him under his breath Draco returned to his bedroom. He rushed to his closet and ran his hand through the rows of shirts and trousers before selecting a pale green one with a grey trouser and donning them in haste. He didn't even care to comb his hair and left his suite in a hurry to find out what was wrong with the entire family and they were bringing down the house on him.

He was almost at the foyer leading to the main entrance door when he spotted Audré pacing before the large ornate door. One look at her face was enough to tell him that she was as furious as her son had been. She held a hand before him and stopped him as he proceeded to go outdoors.

"Draco, where were you last night?" her tone was icy as she greeted him with the default question about his whereabouts.

Exasperated, tired and furious Draco turned and faced his aunt.

"Aunt, I think I am grown up enough to spend a night outside home." he said evenly.

"I don't think so." Audré shook her head with the same superior authority that always unnerved Draco, "Grown up you might be but not enough to spend an entire night outside without informing your family."

"I was at Dominique's place. Working." Draco purposefully avoided the locket which was in fact residing inside his robe pocket, upstairs.

Audré shrugged carelessly, "Listen Draco, if you are not interested in your wife and son then by all means, please let them go and if you do care for them, please behave accordingly. Because it's not my job to cover up after you scream at your wife or don't return home at night."

"I never told you it's job, aunt. I was going to apologize to her."

"When actually?" Audré, for some strange reason was livid.

"Tonight." Draco supplied fervently.

"Why tonight? Why not last night?"

"Because I was busy last night. I had something important to attend to."

"Curious mind wants to know, Draco, that what was more important to you than your son and wife? Do you take their presence as granted? Do you think you can do as you like, behave as you like and they won't be able to do anything against you just because you Claimed your son and forced his mother into a marriage that it virtually unbreakable? Do you think it's my job to unite you two? Do you think she'll forgive and accept you if you imprison her in this marriage for a very long time or use her son as a tool against her? Tell me Draco, do you think Jean will bow down before you just because you are her damn husband?"

"Why could you think that I think so?" Draco countered. "I know she will never bow down before me just because I am her husband. I know she hates me and I have to work a lot to make it the other way round. And aunt, please take note that I certainly don't take them as granted. I strive to keep them with me. They are the most important people of my life. You know that very well."

"I know." Audré arched an eyebrow, "But Jean doesn't and you certainly aren't very keen to show her that she and Adrian are the most important people in your life."

"I did, aunt." Draco countered boldly, "Last Monday, I told her she looked beautiful in red and white. Do you know what she did? Asked me if wanted a long, good fuck?"

"Very well done, Jean. Excellent." Audré applauded for an imaginary Hermione, "As for you, Draco, you deserved every bit of it. It was a very insensible and poor move for a Slytherin like you to try to please a woman you raped. Don't you understand that she isn't interested in remarks that you make on her physical appearance? Do you not have an ounce of common sense? They call it the most English virtue."

Realizing his mistake, Draco remained silent. He knew from his own experience how he had felt at Lillian's presence after that awful nightmare about assaulting her.

"Listen, Draco." Audré's tone was even now, "I am warning you for the last time. Jean and Adrian will not suffer for your lawless means. If you can behave as a family man does, then try your luck with them. Otherwise, don't waste your time or energy in pursuit of a family that doesn't love you."

Draco sighed. "I am trying, aunt." he said sincerely.

"No, you are not." Audré shook her head, "Otherwise, you'd have apologized to Jean before you left for Italy or immediately after your return. Like any family guy, you would have visited them, gave your son his present, your wife her due apology and offered to take them out for a lunch on weekends. What did you do instead? You are locking yourself up in your room and avoiding her like hell. Now she might consider that you are mentally disturbed. I would've if I were in her place. That's the most rational conclusion."

Draco sighed again. His aunt was, as always, unarguably right in her points.

"Why are they sitting outside?" he asked after a while, "It's pretty cold out there."

"Not colder than the hell you have put them, Draco." Audré replied gravely, "Now go and talk to them. I am sure you have a few damnations waiting for you."

Draco wondered what her words meant. He knew Hermione would be screaming at him. He knew Adrian would be cold. These two were inevitable outcomes. Did Audré mean there was more?

The answer came as soon as he came out and stood in silence while Hermione and Adrian, sitting side by side on the topmost step of the stairs, conversed. They seemed immersed in their own topic of discussion that was evidently about him.

Draco watched them for a while, trying to discern what was causing so much stir. Hermione was clutching a paper that looked like a letter written by Adrian. As he stood there, she turned to her son and asked:

"Why? What's wrong with Monsieur? I see that you have spelled his name correctly this time. You liked the persimmons he brought from Italy."

"Persimmon is not creepy, Mama. Monsieur is." Adrian replied flat out, "I don't like him. I don't want to go with him for the broom ride."

"Let's talk about it when Monsieur returns home." Hermione seemed to try hard to control the damage Draco has caused, "I am sure we can settle this with him and you can take Uncle Julian with you as you wanted."

It was then that Draco's heart filled with a deep sense of gratitude and respect for the once-second-most-detested-person-in-the-world: Hermione Granger. He stared at her in complete awe.

What a wonderful lady she was to speak on behalf of a man whom she hated? How incredibly brave and kind hearted she should be to push aside her animosity for her rapist and try to persuade their son? It was that tender moment of Saturday afternoon that Draco discovered Hermione in a new light.

Not only Hermione Jean Granger was an amazing mother, an innocent woman and a beautiful lady, she also harboured underneath it, a kind heart, a good conscience and very well organized mind. Never did she appear to lose control of her temper while discussing Draco with Adrian nor did she attempt to lie to him to hide her discomfort about the topic. She was gracefully honest and beautifully intelligent. Draco wondered why he never noticed it before?

But wasn't he always ignorant? Hasn't he blamed Hermione for being horrible to him when he tried to be civil with her? Hasn't he pined that he wasn't being appreciated enough? Now he understood how very wrong he was.

How could someone appreciate a man who had raped her and married her forcibly by taking away her only son? How could someone not be horrible with a man who has taken away her last chance of happiness with a man she loved? How could anyone be anything but horrible with him? Could he be that much forgiving? Could he be so kind?

The answer, Draco himself knew was a big 'no'. He knew he wouldn't have forgiven his rapist. He knew he couldn't have settled down with a man who has taken away his everything. He knew he was neither that kind nor that much forgiving.

But Hermione was. True that she has stated that she would never forgive him but she has also striven to appear civil before their son. Wasn't that a wonderment on its own?

His aunt was right. He should have apologized to her and not ran to Italy to hide his face. That was what a man should be like: caring and honest and certainly not the complaining and sniveling kind.

He remembered the dream he had when in peril of hid soul being sucked out. Hermione was his bride in that dream and he had kissed the hem of her robe. Listening to her talk to their son, he felt she truly deserved it. He should kiss the hem of her black and blue dress for her immense kindness and generosity.

"What's it that you want to settle with me, Hermione?" Draco couldn't contain anymore and asked her. Why should she pay the price of his misbehaviour?

At his words both Hermione and Adrian whipped around and leapt to their feet. To his immense surprise, the little boy came before his mother, spread his little arms wide and stood like a Knight protecting his Fair Maiden.

"What's wrong, Adrian?" he asked him calmly, though he had a very clear idea as to what was wrong. He was wrong in the entire scenario. "Why are you standing like that?" he elaborated the question this time.

"YOU WILL NOT SCREAM AT MAMA." the little boy screamed at him and his speculations came true.

"I wasn't." Draco, slightly astonished at his bravery, confessed.

"YOU WILL NOT HURT HER." the boy commanded him boldly. He seemed ready to strike him if he showed any such indication.

Draco kicked himself mentally. "I am not hurting your Mama, Adrian. I promised I won't. Ever." He said as gently as possible.

"BUT YOU SCREAMED AT HER. LOUIS'S PAPA DOESN'T SCREAM AT HIS MAMA." Adrian wouldn't let go of the topic no matter how hard Draco tried, "GRANDPA GUSTAVE DOESN'T SCREAM AT GRANDMA."

'Point taken.' Draco thought ruefully. He felt like a stupid to not have noticed how he idolized his grandpa Gustave. He shook his head wearily, rubbed his face and looked up at the afternoon sky. The glow in western sky was slowly receding, like the cloud that had been overhanging and impairing his judgments.

He noticed from the corner of his eyes that Hermione was offering him the same letter she was reading moments before he came in. He eyed it for a split second, wondering what the contents might be before coming forward and taking it. She stood there with Adrian as he read.

Monsieur Mini star,

Bonjour.

My name is Adrian Thomas Granger. My mama is Jean Granger. She is very brave. She works in greengots. My father is draco malfoy. He works at the ministree. But I don't like him. He is creepy. Very very much. First he tried to take me away from mama. then he lied to me. then he screemed at mama. he is very scary. I don't want him as my father. I want uncle Alecsis. He is a very good man. he made a sord for me. He loves me. I love him. my mama likes him too. You are mini star of magic. Can you please make uncle Alecsis my papa?

merci,

Adrian.

Draco's mouth was dry and filled with a bitter taste as he finished reading the letter. Even breathing became difficult as he realized his son preferred his uncle Alexis over his biological father.

He wanted to scream in agony, voice the excruciating pain he felt inside for being humiliated and compared so. He felt like shaking Adrian violently and making him see that he loved him more than Alexis ever could. But he did none. He was wiser now. He knew such conducts could bring nothing but more negativity in their already strained relationship. He simply folded the letter neatly, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them and looked down solemnly at his furious son.

"Can we please talk before you send that letter to the Minister and he considers replacing me with your dear uncle Alexis?" His tone was unrecognizably polite and patient, "Can we talk? Like a man to a man?"

"A man to a man?" Adrian immediately took notice of the word Draco used to address him, "You mean I am Mama's man and you are a man?"

"No." Draco shook his head and knelt before his son. He was so small and yet so protective of his mother. It reminded him of his own love for his mother, Narcissa. "We are both your Mama's man. I am her husband. You are her son." he said gently.

"Then why did you scream at Mama?" Adrian asked immediately, "I saw it." he said firmly.

Waves after waves of impossible explanation popped up inside Draco's head, each farfetched than the previous. He was angry. He was frustrated. He needed respite and so on. But they were all lies and he wasn't going the same mistake twice. "I was planning to apologize to her for that but didn't get the opportunity. I was very busy with my work, Adrian." he replied truthfully and looked up at Hermione.

In response, she simply arched an eyebrow at him and smirked. Smirking was something that Draco thought only suited him and the Malfoys to convey that they were superior. But Hermione's smirk, even though very uncharacteristic, was as innocent as her other features, notably her eyes. "Indeed." She nodded, conveying very well that she wasn't fooled by his words.

Draco opted not to respond and returned to Adrian. "So what do you say? Can we talk like two grown up men?" he asked him again.

"Two grown up men?" Adrian lowered his arms and considered the offer, "Okay." He tilted his head in agreement. He seemed to like the idea of being called a grown up man.

"Thank you very much, Adrian." Draco smiled at him and straightened up. He even gave a polite smile to Hermione and as always she ignored it completely. But Draco didn't mind now. He knew she would ignore him for a while until he proved himself worthy of her attention or kindness. "Why don't we go inside and talk? It's pretty cold outside." He walked to the door and held it open for them.

He noticed how Hermione sighed and with a glare that wasn't hiding her true feelings for him she took Adrian's little hand and walked in.

Draco took them to the only place he could think of: Audré's parlour. The place was mysteriously deserted now, as if the elderly woman had perceived it too well that he would be bringing his wife and son there and left it only for their use. He followed them in silently and took his seat opposite the double sofa Hermione and Adrian occupied.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Hermione was giving him a very calm look and Adrian the same but expectant and curious one. Draco wondered where and how to begin the man-to-man discussion.

"So, how have you been while I was gone?" he started really gentle and slow, as if it was a normal conversation. "Did you go to school and do your homeworks?"

Adrian nodded. He seemed to be waiting for something more serious then homeworks and school.

"Very good." Draco didn't know what else to ask next. He just couldn't jump into the topic of that letter without prior warning. "So…ah…your uncle Julian told me about some broom ride. What's it all about?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

This time, Adrian seemed pretty eager to continue the conversation. He took out a letter, the same one he had parceled to him as an origami, and offered it to him.

Draco took it silently and unfolded the piece of paper. It read:

Dear Master Adrian,

We are pleased to inform you that you have won the second prize for your costume as Creepy Carrot in the Hallowe'en special Fancy Dress Party that was held on 31st October. Since you were not available personally to receive it on that day, we are forwarding it to your legal guardian, Monsieur Draco Malfoy.

Draco remembered how his son had stormed out of the Trick and Treat festival upon revelation that his father had lied to him about conception of babies. The prize giving ceremony must have taken place afterwards. He continued with the letter:

Your reward will be a one hour broom ride on one of the most anticipated and high profile broomsticks of the year and next, the Aeromate Supreme. Please visit their office on Sunday, 7th November to claim your ride. Also don't forget to take your parents. Note that at least one of them should be eligible to control a high speed broomstick or else you'll be provided with a professional rider for the sake of your safety.

Yours sincerely,

Unable to read anymore, Draco looked up from the letter. The reason for behind Hermione's words of waiting for Draco to decide it and Julian's words of him not deserving the ride was slowly making sense now.

His only son has won a broom ride and was required to take his parents in order to claim it. But instead of taking his father, he was planning to take his uncle because his father was, in his eyes, a creepy man. He has further damaged the situation by screaming at his mother and not showing up for an entire day after his return.

Draco didn't know how long he held the letter in his senseless fingers and stared at son in disbelief. His heart, if possible, shattered into million pieces and he felt his breath was hitching inside his chest. It was even more humiliating than the letter to Minister for now he was being compared not to an outsider but to his own cousin: Julian de Chombrun Malfoy.

But for the purpose of conversation he ignored it. He wanted it to come from Adrian's own lips that he didn't want his father to accompany him. "It's alright." He said, trying hard to conceal his extreme despair, "I'll go whenever you ask me."

But Adrian, as it was anticipated, shook his head. "No." he said, "I don't want you to go with us. I want Uncle Julian." He said plainly.

Draco knew it was coming but even with that he couldn't take the blow of being humiliated so. Adrian's features, he noted, was innocent and with no indication of malice in it. But he was too stunned to answer until Adrian asked him the same question three times in a row.

"Monsieur, can I take Uncle Julian?"

"Monsieur, can I?"

"Monsieur, it is alright?"

No, it wasn't alright. Why should Julian accompany Adrian when he had a father who was a Seeker from age twelve?

"May I know why?" Draco asked, finally regaining his voice, "Can you please explain it to me, son?"

"I can." Adrian nodded. He was as brave as he was when he stood before his mother to protect her. "I like Uncle Julian. He is a good flyer." He piped.

"I am also a good flyer." Draco supplied calmly. His insides were burning now but he opted not to show it. It wasn't Adrian's fault that he disliked his father; it was Draco's fault.

"But you are creepy." Adrian was so innocently honest that Draco couldn't be angry with him for it.

"Creepy?" Draco repeated after him, "I am not a carrot, Adrian." he smiled with painstaking difficulty.

"No. It's not that." Adrian protested, "I know you are not a carrot." He stated.

"Then please explain why you call me creepy." Draco asked with all the patience he had as a Malfoy. He knew the answer would be equally heart breaking but it was better out than in.

Adrian looked up at his stony faced mother who was giving Draco the most curious of glances. "Mama you tell him." he bade her.

Upon his words, Hermione locked her brilliant brown pair with Draco's and said. "My son doesn't understand you. According to him, you come suddenly and leave suddenly. Without any warnings. You also apologize in one moment and scream on the next. He can't correlate it with most well brought up men he has seen like father Gustave or Alexis or Julian. Therefore, he thinks you are creepy."

Draco hung on to her every word as if his life depended on it. As she finished explaining he realized with a heavy heart that the son was right.

It was plain and simple as water: His son didn't understand him and he had every reason not to.

Draco cursed himself mentally. What was he thinking of achieving by apparently screaming at his wife moments after apologizing to their son? How were they supposed to understand that he had screamed at his demon and not them? There was no one around other than them three.

"I…understand completely…" he said after a while, slowly taking in the truth and trying to formulate a way out this mess, "Your Mama is right. I am creepy." He admitted honestly.

"Very much." Adrian added nonchalantly, "Monsieur, can I take Uncle Julian now?" he asked again.

Draco contemplated the question. "Well, what did Uncle Julian say? Did you ask him about it?" he asked but prayed internally that such might not be the case.

"I did. When he took me for a ride." Draco heart sank at Adrian's reply, "He said you have to give to him permission.

Draco thanked his cousin for his great prudence and glanced at Hermione for support. Her words acted like magic on Adrian. Hadn't she been trying to persuade him to come off his letter? If she really wanted to help, now was the best moment.

But she sat there; stony faced and impassive; not moving a muscle.

That meant he was on his own in this battle of proving himself. Draco took a deep breath and decided to probe the second issue: Adrian's letter to the minister asking for a better father.

"Adrian, my son…" he emphasized on the last two words carefully, "I know you are very intelligent, just like your Mama is." he referred to Hermione for he knew the boy like it most, "I know you'll understand what I am about to tell you." He said solemnly and took another deep breath.

"When I was young…" Draco started and paused, looking for an appropriate word, "…when I was as old as you are now, Adrian, my dear son, I had a father. He is your late grandpa Lucius Malfoy. I loved him and he loved me. I looked up to him. He was my first hero…until very recently when I realized…I was wrong…" he gulped. He felt a stabbing pain in his heart to admit that he no longer idolized the man who was his mentor in Malfoy etiquette for more than two decades, "Now I feel alone…I understand how it feels like not to have a father you liked…I feel for you my son…" he placed a solemn hand on his heart, "I sincerely do."

Adrian's innocent eyes widened in curiosity and Hermione's simply narrowed in suspicion.

"Your grandpa Lucius wasn't a bad man. He loved his family. He took care of me and your grandma Narcissa. He tried to bring me up according to the Malfoy traditions and I, too wanted to follow them because I was eager to uplift my family name. Now that I look back, I see where his mistakes were. I understand why I became the man I am today. I man whose only son doesn't like him and writes to the minister of magic to change him."

"I didn't want to hurt you, Monsieur." Adrian piped looking disturbed that his actions has caused someone great pain, "I just don't like you. So I told him the truth."

Draco didn't know if someone's honest confession has touched him ever so truly. What a wonderful little boy Hermione has raised who didn't like hurting even those whom he disliked. He felt a lump in his throat that had nothing to do with the sadness he felt inside.

"No, it's okay." He said after a while, "I mean I need to know what's wrong with me and your truth will help me to find it." he smiled warmly at the little boy, "As I was saying Adrian, my father and your grandpa wasn't a bad man. But like every human being he had certain shortcomings. He was pretty rigid in his manners. You know what rigid means?" he asked Adrian who shook his head, "It means you don't like new ideas or when you are a very strong follower of certain rules. Like I was taught that purebloods are the best and Muggleborns like your Mama are not good witches or wizards."

"That's not true." Adrian shook his head vehemently, "Mama is the best." He proclaimed firmly and hugged his mother fondly.

"Yes, she is the best." Draco admitted not out of grudge or jealousy but admiringly, "But I was taught they are not. And that's what we call being rigid." He explained to his young son, "He was also pretty vindictive. I am sure you don't know what vindictive means." He said and Adrian nodded, "It means that if someone hurts you, then you do something to hurt him back."

"But that's wrong." Adrian protested violently, "Grandpa sounds like Pierre. He tore my favourite book."

"Yes, I know he tore your book." Draco nodded, "I know how you felt. I saw it." he sighed thinking how his father's image was being tarnished before his son, "Growing up under your grandpa, Adrian, I became quite like him: rigid and vindictive. I didn't even know that I had an uncle in France. Father never told me."

"Why?" Adrian seemed completely immersed in Draco's honest confession.

Draco wondered if he should stop now and save the last of his father's grand image.

"He didn't like him." he replied at last, "Grandpa Morpheus was open minded and very kind, complete opposite to grandpa Lucius. Father thought if I come to know Uncle Morpheus, I'll be more like him. So he never told me about him."

"Very bad." Adrian commented disapprovingly.

"Now that I see my cousins, your uncle Julian and aunt Lilli, I feel how very deprived I am." Draco continued as long as his courage supported him, "I feel if I had a father like Uncle Morpheus, I could've been like Julian – open hearted and kind. That's why I said, dear son, I know how you feel. I know how it feels to want to have a different father."

Adrian was silent this time. His mother, on the other hand, was giving Draco a very intense gaze.

"Like every man, Adrian, I also dreamt to be an ideal father for my children. But I never had the good fortune to become one, son. I had three children from my first marriage…all were boys. The eldest one was Scorpius. He was two when he died." Draco licked his dry lips to moisten them. It always broke his heart to speak of them as if someone was sprinkling raw salt on his open wounds. "My other sons died too. The youngest one wasn't even born. He died in his mother's womb. My wife…" his voice failed him and he closed his eyes to combat the excruciating bout of pain he felt whenever he talked of Astoria, "…also died. I never had the opportunity to become… a father…until I met you, son…"

Draco opened his mouth but no sound came out to convey what he felt inside. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed, trying hard to beat down the despair and helplessness.

"You are right. I am very creepy. I apologize and I scream. I lie to you. I even hurt your Mama once. I am not like the men you have met. But despite everything, Adrian, I want to be a good father. I don't want to be a rigid man anymore. I want to be open minded as Uncle Julian is…as Grandpa Morpheus was. I want to be the father you dream of. But for that I need to be a father first. I need to have a son like you to teach me."

"Your sons died?" Adrian asked. He was almost tearful now.

Draco nodded sadly.

"I am sorry." His son said suddenly, "I don't like it when people die. It's… very… sad." He shook his head.

Draco left his seat, walked over to his son and knelt down before him. He looked up at the features that were his own except for they were angelic and innocent.

"Adrian…" his voice was broken like his heart as he spoke, "I know you don't like me…I know you…like Alexis more…I know you want a good papa…like your friend Louis has…I can't stop you from sending that letter to the Minister…I can't ask you love me…all I can ask you is please not to take away my only son from me…please…I beg you…I…I want to be a good father…I do…I just don't know how…can you please help me be one?" he pleaded most ardently.

Adrian's grey orbs were fixed on Draco's when he nodded silently.

"Okay." He piped a moment later, "You can. Grandpa says to be kind with everyone."

"Thank you." Draco was crying and smiling at the same time. His son's heart was so wonderfully tender and good. He promised to himself to help him keep it that way; always. "Thank you very much, Adrian."

"Now can I take Uncle Julian?" Adrian asked unexpectedly. He seemed unconvinced about Draco's flying ability.

"You can, of course you want to." Draco nodded cautiously, "But if you are thinking that I am creepy and I'll throw you off the broom than please try to remember what happened during the Quidditch match that you attended with your Mama." he glanced at Hermione who was frowning deeply at him, "I saved you from that stupid Seeker who thought your golden balloon was the Golden Snitch and was going to land on you instead."

"Did you?" Adrian seemed astonished.

Draco nodded solemnly, "Your Mama knows. Ask her."

Adrian looked up at Hermione. "Mama, did he save me?" he asked in genuine curiosity.

Hermione nodded silently.

Adrian turned to Draco, seemingly convinced now.

"Okay. You can come with me." he said and Draco was relieved beyond measure, "But promise me that you'll not be creepy. Okay?"

"Okay." Draco tilted his head, mirroring Adrian's signature move, "Now can we shake hands? Like new friends?"

Adrian looked up at his mother for approval who nodded curtly. Then he extended his little right hand and taking it, Draco shook it with a genuine smile.

Adrian's small hand was amazingly warm against his big and cold one. He longed to hold onto it for the rest of his life.

"Can I go now?" Adrian asked him as they withdrew their hands.

"No, wait." Draco remembered Audré's words, "I need to apologize to your Mama." He shifted his attention to the woman sitting beside Adrian. She had been silent all throughout the ordeal, "Hermione, I am very sorry for my misconduct. I shouldn't have screamed at you. Actually, I didn't scream at you but still I apologize. Please forgive me."

"If it wasn't me, Malfoy, who was it that you screamed at?" Hermione asked him coolly.

Draco wondered if he should tell her the truth.

'Go on, Draco, tell her that you screamed at me.' the taunting voice was back and taunting him even more mercilessly this time, 'I am sure your favourite Mudblood will be delighted to learn that her rapist husband is a lunatic too.'

"Sometimes, when I am very vulnerable or stressed, a part of me tells me to do awful and cruel things to relieve it." Draco started solemnly, "I was very stressed that night and after…you told me…" he paused and gave her a warning look to convey the adult words Hermione had used, "…that part of me told me to do some awful things. It was horrible and I lost control…and screamed at him and you thought it was you."

The look Hermione gave him was enough to tell that she didn't believe him a jot.

"Indeed." She nodded and stood up to leave but Draco stopped her again.

"Hermione, I apologized." He reminded her, waiting for an answer.

"Since it wasn't me you screamed at, Malfoy, I have no authority to forgive you." she said with an indignant smile, "Now if you would please excuse me and my son. I really am very tired."

"One moment." They were almost at the parlour door when Draco remembered it, "Can you please be kind Hermione and wait here for a minute while I go and bring something?"

"What?" she turned and asked.

"You'll see in a bit." Draco said and without giving her another moment's notice ran for his suite. Once there, he took out the Cornicello from the topmost drawer of his nightstand and the chocolate truffles before returning to Audré's parlour as fast as he could.

He was relieved to see them waiting for him there. "I brought it for you, Adrian." he handed the little boy his truffles which he took with wide eyes. He then turned to his mother, "I forgot to give your Mama her present."

"My present?" Hermione's voice was cold and stunned.

"Yeah. Here it is." Draco presented her with a small square box of velvet, "It's for you."

Hermione blinked thrice before taking the box from Draco's offering hand. She opened it while Adrian's tiptoed to catch a glimpse of what was inside.

Draco, his spirit slightly elevated now, waited for her reaction.

"Mama, what is it?" Adrian piped curiously.

"A Cornicello." Hermione whispered after a minute. She seemed undecided whether to accept or reject it.

"A genuine one." Draco supplied hopefully, "Not the fake ones they sell in streets of Diagon Alley and claim that it's Italian."

"Mama, what is it?" Adrian tugged Hermione's sleeve impatiently, "I can't see."

"It's called a Cornicello." Hermione sighed and handed him the box. "A kind of Italian amulet. It claims to protect one against the evil eyes."

"Evil eyes?" Adrian repeated after Hermione as he examined the contents of the box. "What is evil eye?"

"Evil eye is something that can cause great harm." Draco explained to him, "Your Mama is the Chief Curse Breaker, Adrian. She deals with curses every day. There are chances that she might be harmed. So I brought it especially for her to protect her from evil eyes and curses."

"Merci, Monsieur." It seemed that Adrian has accepted the gift on his mother's behalf. For the first time, he appeared quite glad for Draco's thoughtfulness, "Mama, I want you to put it on." He held out the box for her.

"What?" both Draco and Hermione spluttered in unison.

"Yes." Adrian affirmed with an obvious look, "Monsieur said it'll protect you from harm. You said it works. If it protects you then you must put it on. You work with the goblins."

Draco was positively delighted beyond any sort of measurement. He hadn't expected that Adrian would act as a catalyst in such a delicate situation.

"Yeah, Hermione, I think you should put it on immediately." he nodded vigorously and supported his son's genuine cause.

The look Hermione gave him as lethal as the basilisk's stare. Under it, Draco half expected her to throw the box away or worse throw it on his face before stalking away with Adrian. But she did none. She sighed deeply, lowered her body and looked at her son.

"Okay, my love, Mama will put it on. Why don't you put it around her neck? Hm?" she gave him a smile that Draco knew for sure was causing her great effort.

"Okay!" Adrian exclaimed happily and removed the amulet from the box. Hermione waited patiently as he encircled the chain around her neck, fixed the tiny clasp and positioned the horn shaped locket in the centre of her bosom.

"My Mama is safe now." He declared happily, as if she had been in imminent danger until that point.

"Mama is always safe when her son is around to take care of her." Hermione smiled and kissed him softly. "Adrian, why don't you return to our room and check on Peter while I finish a little chat with Monsieur?" she straightened up and offered charmingly.

"You sure?" Adrian, despite accepting Draco's gift, seemed skeptic.

"Of course I am, little rabbit." Hermione nodded firmly, "Now you go. I'll be there in five minutes. Okay?"

With his signature okay and head tilt, Adrian left them on the foyer. Draco, who had been watching their pair, knew Hermione was waiting for a private moment to retort back, something she had been unable to do before their son. He was even ready to accept it but surprisingly, it never came. Hermione simply stared at him and asked:

"Where were you last night, Malfoy?"

Draco was taken aback. "Pardon?" He wasn't expecting her to question him on his whereabouts.

"I asked, where were you last night?" Hermione repeated her query even more firmly this time.

Draco considered it before replying it in a manner that would clear all her suspicions.

"I assure you, Hermione, I didn't spent it in a brothel, in the arms of a prostitute." He said solemnly.

He expected her to be satisfied with the answer but she wasn't. Her features became colder as she said, "I regard a prostitute higher than a rapist, Malfoy." She said icily.

Draco digested the horrible insult and remained calm. "I was at one of my peer's home, trying to catch up with my studies." he lied as minimum as he could.

"Indeed." Hermione nodded disdainfully, "I don't how true that statement is, Malfoy, but I must admit that I am pretty impressed by that marvelous melodrama you showcased before my son." she applauded mockingly, "Who would believe that you resent Lucius Malfoy as your father? Especially, after that special empty threat that you used to boast. What was that?" she asked him, "Aha! Yes! 'Wait till my father hears about it.'" she quoted his famous dialogue, "But let me clear several things here, Malfoy. You can't fool my son for very long with your crocodile tears. Your real colour is bound to show itself some times. Also, take kind note that I accepted this bloody Cornicello…" she pulled the chain and brought the tiny locket before Draco's eyes, "…because my son asked me to. For me, no eye on Earth is more evil than yours and this amulet can never protect me from your filthy presence." She said dismissively.

"Hermione, I…" Draco started but without giving him a chance to continue, she simply stalked off with a huff. He kept watching her retreating form for a while until in disappeared round a corner and then slumped against the nearest wall.

Draco tilted his head backward and closed his eyes. He was damn tired. No, he was exhausted. He stood there like a statue, letting the exhaustion finally engulf him until he thought he could fight its spell no more.

•••••

Night has fallen in Courpalay and in Château de la Grange-Bléneau but not in the eyes of two women: Audré and Hermione. She sat on the floor of her sitting room resting her head on Audré's lap as she gently stroked her hair. With a thousand words swarming inside her head and trying to burst out, she remained silent. She was too tired to talk. Audré too realizing her quietude hadn't prompted to break it.

They sat in perfect stillness, Audré stroking Hermione's curls like a musician plays her harp in graceful serenade. Her touch, as always, brought the same comfort and warmth that her mother's used to bring.

"When I was in my sixth year, aunt," Hermione started abruptly, "…the same year Voldemort came out of his hiding and professor Dumbledore died, you couldn't open the morning issue of Daily Prophet without at least one news of Muggle killings or Dementor attack in it. Such a horrible time it was. Panic… chaos… death everywhere. It was perhaps the darkest of all my school years and I was petrified by a Basilisk when I was in my second." She paused, "But even in such a state of despair I never forgot to laugh, never forgot to be what I am."

"I remember one such occasion. We were all sitting in Gryffindor common room. Harry, Ron, Ginny and I. You know Ginny? She is Ron's sister and Harry's wife. She was telling us how a girl named Romilda Vane asked her about Harry's tattoo. Romilda had heard that Harry had a Hippogriff tattoo on his chest and asked Ginny, Harry's then girlfriend about it. Ginny being Ginny told her that it was a Hungarian Horntail, something much more macho. Ron and I had roared in laughter despite the fact that there were news of at three Dementor attacks that day. Can you imagine aunt, three Dementor attacks and we were laughing over Harry's dragon tattoo?"

Audré didn't reply. She silently massaged Hermione's scalp, conveying to her that she was listening.

"Now there is no Dementor attacks every day, no Voldemort to get rid of, no Death Eaters and no thought of imminent death or uncertain future, aunt. But still I feel I can't laugh like I did before, I can't be what I was. That one incident, that one moment in Malfoy Manor changed me and my life forever. I can no longer find the old Hermione in me: the bossy, happy and caring Hermione, the bookish Hermione, the logical Hermione. When I look at myself in the mirror, I see a broken version of her and I don't recognize her. This isn't me, aunt, but I can't make her to be my old self. It seems as if the old Hermione is dead and the new Hermione is nothing but a demented version of her."

"How is it possible aunt that my soul could forgive someone who shattered and damaged her beyond any sort of repair? How is it possible that my soul forgave Malfoy and bonded with him? Should it not recognize the scars he left on my body and soul? Shouldn't it prevent this so- called spiritual consummation?"

She heard Audré sigh deeply. She continued stroking her curls ever so gently when she replied.

"I don't have much knowledge on human souls, Jean but from my experience in working with actual human beings I can tell you that souls, no matter how damaged it might appear, prevail and persist. I don't know why your soul bonded with its partner. That question still remains to be answered and it's you who should seek it out, Jean. But I can tell you the story of a brave woman I met. Her name was Beau. Beau Öhler."

"My family, the Chombruns I mean, might be purebloods but we have several Muggle relatives mostly through marriage relations. One of them is the Lasteyrie family. They were pretty prominent noblemen in French Muggle society. My papa bought this Château from Louis de Lasteyrie. Since its establishment in 13th century Grange-Bléneau had been under several Muggle owners. Even today our neighbours take us as an eccentric rich Muggle family. The Chombruns run quite a few charities in Muggle world. Papa started it and I look over them now. It was through this charity work that I came across Beau Öhler."

"Every year, we contribute a reasonable amount to a safe house for abused women. Most of the inhabitants there were abused at a point of their lives. Some at home. By their husbands. Some by strangers. Some when they were very young. One such was Beau Öhler."

"Beau's parents died when she was very young. She was brought up by her grandmother. They were very poor and being the only able person in the family, Beau's grandmother had to go outside to earn the bread of the little family she had. Beau was left alone in their home. It was then that some monsters under the guise of human skin used to come and exploit her."

"Beau was very young, five or six maybe when it started. At first she didn't understand it. They used to tell her it was game and she should be a good girl throughout the ordeal. She obeyed most of the time for she didn't know what it was. But as she grew up and started realizing what had happened to her, she became highly conscious. At first she blamed herself for letting it happen. She had no one to confide to. Her grandmother was a good woman but not very friendly. The exploits continued. She couldn't tell anyone. Eventually she became pregnant. The monster was no one but her distant uncle."

"Fed up and scared to death, Beau left her home. She was only fourteen at that time. She was with a child and hungry. After spending three days in the streets of Paris she decided to be what she thought she born to be. Socially we call them prostitutes. A more formal term is escort girl."

"Beau spent nearly twenty years in the arms of various men, giving them pleasure in exchange of money for her son. Yes, she had given birth to a boy. She was raped several times by pimps. Stabbed even. Thirteen times. I saw the scars, Jean. But even with everything she wasn't ready to let go of her profession. She used to think no one would accept her. Who'd marry a woman who was a prostitute once? Who'd give her a decent job? It was not until one night that she was fatally injured and left on a pavement by one of her drunken customers that she finally came into her senses."

"The early morning pedestrians found her and took her to a hospital. They took her in first but when they realized from her attire that she was a prostitute, she was denied treatment. The police came and recognized her. He said she was a hooker and got what she deserved. They left her almost dying outside the Muggle E . R ."

"She was crying and thinking of her son when the hospital shift finally changed and a doctor attended to her. Her wounds were treated and she was referred to the Muggle safe house we run: the Dreamcatcher."

"Dreamcatchers were originally designed by the native Americans. It's a mesh of horse hair decorated with feathers. It is believed that it gives the owner good dreams. Morpheus had found about it and named the safe house. He even had a wonderful Englishwoman run the place. Beau came there to live and find herself."

"She stayed there for almost three years. We had arranged through the safe house to give money for her son. He was studying in a Muggle boarding school. At first, Beau wouldn't talk to anyone about her. I met her one fine morning when I was visiting the place with Morpheus. She was sitting alone in the vast garden. Somehow she caught my eyes. I went to her and smiled. For some strange reason she smiled back."

"She talked her heart out that day. Told me everything. Maybe it's easy to talk to a stranger knowing he or she doesn't know you personally. I listened to her, Jean; didn't interrupt her even for once. After that I kept going back to visit her only; only to listen to her; listen to her dreams; her nightmares; her fears. She kept talking until there was nothing left. Then she started talking about life; her new dream to raise her son as a gentleman and help girls who were being exploited. She left Dreamcatcher with those dreams."

"Today Beau works with abused women and tries to make their lives better. She never thought she could do it but she even found a kind man who was interested in her and not in her past. They got married and are quite happy with her son."

"The whole point of telling you such a long story is, dear Jean, that life never stops after one wrong move or one horrible occurrence. Women's lives, especially, are larger and bolder than that. They stand up no matter what happens. Like Beau did. She went through a lot and yet she dreamed of a better future. You went through a lot too, Jean, but that doesn't mean your hopes of a better life are over."

"I know you are married to a man who tortured you violently. I know you had to let go of everything you had to have Adrian. I know you sacrificed your love for a man to save your son from Draco. I am not underestimating your sacrifices. I am just telling that there is still hope. That you can still laugh like you did in your sixth year. That you can get back everything that you have lost. All you need is to hold on to that dream. You can't let it go. Not now. Not when you are almost there."

"Almost where?" Hermione asked. She was mixed feelings now: grateful that she wasn't born as Beau Öhler, sad that many young girls were still abused, bitter when she remembered Vincent and scared that her soul was betraying her.

"You are on your way to healing, Jean." Audré replied, "The reason Beau couldn't go back to a normal life was she wasn't prepared for it. She wasn't healed. But after living in Dreamcatcher for three years most of her physical and spiritual wounds healed. The once introvert woman could finally go and get her life back. Now look at yourself. In just two monthes of your marriage with Draco, you conquered your six year old fear of him. Now you dare to challenge him; talk to him with eye on eye. If Beau's soul can heal, Jean, why can't yours? Do you consider Draco's presence as an impediment? I should think not. It's actually helping you to release that anger you were holding for him, the hatred you had reserved only for him. If you ask me, he's acting as a catalyst here. Had it not been for him, Jean, the poison in you wouldn't have found their way out."

Hermione considered Audré's words. They were true in a sense that her fears for Draco have diminished and she could be in his presence without flinching.

"Do you mean that if I remain like this my heart will be healed, I'll forget my hatred and fall in love with him?" she enquired for the most logical outcome.

"No." Audré shook her head, "That I can't believe to happen, Jean. Ever. There can be no love between a rapist and his victim. No. But Draco's presence is somehow helping you let go of all those old poisons you have. Maybe, he came in your life only to do this. To relieve you unbeknownst to himself. And maybe by the time, you reach a decision on him you'll be over your traumas. You can live the life you lived once; be what you were."

Hermione wondered if it were ever possible. But then again she did feel better every time she threw insults at Draco's pale pointed face.

"Malfoy gave me a Cornicello, aunt." she pulled the thin metal chain and brought out the horn shaped locket that was inside the depth of her nightdress. She didn't particularly feel like showing it to anyone. "He said it'll protect me from evil eyes. Adrian heard it and asked me to put it on. The kid doesn't understand that the biggest evil eye I have is none but Malfoy, the man who gave me that amulet." she sighed, "I had no option but to take it. I couldn't break Adrian's heart, aunt. Besides, we are supposed to act like a normal couple before him. But I can't get over the feeling of taking something from him." she said ruefully.

"It's alright, Jean." Audré smiled kindly, "That's just an amulet. You can take it off anytime you like."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. At least not tomorrow or next week. Adrian will notice. But do you think, aunt, that by accepting this bloody Cornicello, he is accepting Malfoy as his father too?"

"I doubt it." Audré replied solemnly, "Adrian is your man, your son through and through, Jean. He took the amulet because he thinks it'll protect his beloved mother. He's just a kid who has very straight believes. He doesn't see the world in the shades of grey as we see it, Jean. He sees it as black and white. You are a white person, a good person for him. Draco is the black person, the man who left his Mama. But now the man asks for a second chance and Adrian being the kind kid he is, he gave it to him. There is no reason to feel insecured. He'll always be your son, Jean."

Hermione sighed. Which woman would want her rapist to be the father of her only child? She had wanted Draco to Adrian's trophy father, not an actual one.

"Malfoy said something very strange today." She said after a while, "He said he saw it when Pierre tore Adrian's book."

"Did he?" Audré's tone was suddenly grave.

"Yes. He did." Hermione nodded thoughtfully, "He said, he knows how Adrian felt. He said he saw it. I don't know it meant by it. Sounds more like he was there when Pierre tore Adrian's drawing book. But it can be something else. What I don't understand is how he could be there? Was he following Adrian round the clock?"

"I don't know, Jean." Audré shrugged casually, "Draco, those days wasn't very easy to handle. Still now, he isn't. But he was very secretive about Adrian. Wouldn't tell me anything about him. I told you how I had to hypnotize him to make him tell me what his plans were."

Hermione nodded absent-mindedly, "Do you think it is somehow related to his claim of destroying Rochés?" she didn't know she was asking it. The possibility was extremely absurd. "But why would he destroy Rochés just because Pierre tore Adrian's book? I mean it's so…" she rubbed her forehead wearily.

"Jean, don't take stress." Audré gently patted on her shoulder, "I told you that the truth, whatever it is, is still with Draco and you'll find all your answers eventually."

"I guess, I'll." Hermione hoped, "But aunt, you never told me what your plan is. How do you think you can get me that divorce?"

"That I can't tell you right now, Jean." Audré smiled mysteriously, "I assure you that I do have a plan but I want you to be unbiased in your observation of Draco. I know it's very difficult considering what he did to you but it's not impossible." She checked the clock, "It's almost three o'clock now, dear. I think you should go to bed."

Hermione knew she should but the question whether she could do it.

There had been very few nights in her life that she feared to go to sleep and Saturday night was one of them. She had eyed the freshly made bed and wondered if she could spend the night reading a book. Ironically, it felt almost like the night after she was raped. That night, she couldn't go to sleep for the fear of nightmares and had lain awake, glancing at Luna's sleeping form. Malfoy's face kept looming out of darkness once a while and when the dawn came, Hermione had finally allowed herself to drift into the murky depths of slumber.

This night, however, was different. She hasn't been raped. But her soul has betrayed her spectacularly. It had gone to rescue the soul of a man that has shattered hers and damaged her beyond any kind of healing. What if it again went to meet Malfoy's one tonight?

"Malfoy finally apologized to me today." She ignored Audré's remark on lateness of hour. She wasn't planning to sleep tonight. "He said he didn't scream at me."

"Didn't he?" Audré sounded mildly interested. "Whom did he scream at then?"

"Himself." Hermione replied and rolled her eyes, "He said when he is at his most vulnerable state a part of him asks him to do horrible things to relieve himself. Since I had ridiculed his perfectly polite complement on my dress, he was humiliated and that part of his asked him to do something horrible, preferably to me. That's when he screamed and left like a raging bull. Personally, aunt, I don't believe a word of it. It's one of his many lies and possibly a new stunt to appear as my guardian angel."

"I don't think so." Audré said pensively, "Remember this morning when I told you Draco that has his own reasons not to want to divorce you, Jean? He does."

"Of course he does." Hermione said, "He intends to imprison me forever for his sadistic pleasures."

"Not quite." Audré sighed, "It turns out, Jean, that Draco does have a part of him that takes upper hand whenever he's very stressed or angry or desperate. But there is also another part of him. It helps him to keep his sanity and not succumb to his dark self. It so happens that you, Jean, keep him anchored to that good part."

"Me?" Hermione spluttered. "I anchor him…what…"

"Yes, Jean, you." Audré nodded solemnly. There was no indication of foul play on her features. "I didn't want to tell this to you. I know you'll be horrified and that certainly isn't my intention. I just want you to know that you have profound influence over Draco and he'll not let you go because you keep him good and sane."

"I keep Malfoy good and sane?" Hermione repeated. She was almost paralyzed from shock.

"You do." Audré affirmed, "But let's not talk about him tonight." She yawned and stretched her arms, "Come, Jean. Let me escort you to your son. I am pretty sure if I leave now you'll spend the night wide awake."

Hermione couldn't say no to that offer and left the sitting room. She climbed into her bed and Audré tucked her in beside a sleeping Adrian before leaving for her own chamber.

She embraced her snuggling son more tightly and felt the cold metal of Cornicello brush against her collarbone. But she didn't shudder at its touch.

It wasn't a gift from her rapist. It was a request from her son, Adrian whose happiness and mental relief was everything for her.

Her son was the solace she had…

She was amazingly lucky she had him…

She was…

Unable to contain anymore, Hermione's eyes closed on their own accord. She felt herself drifting into the fathomless depths of slumber when a voice inside her head tried to awaken her.

'No! Hermione! Wake up! Wake up! Don't fall asleep!'

'I can't! I am too tired…'

'Oh, no! Wake up, Hermione! You can't fall asleep…'

'I can't stay awake… it's too comfortable here…with Adrian…he's so warm… and peaceful… I love it here…'

'Hermione, wake up or your soul will leave for Malfoy's one…'

'I...can't…I feel like a… piece… of… lead…'

'No, Hermione, no!…you'll lose it again!…' the voice cried desperately and Hermione tried to open her sleep heavy eyelids.

"I can't fall asleep…" she murmured and reminded herself, "…my soul…"

'Your soul is protected, Hermione dearest…' a new voice supplied from somewhere inside her head. It sounded strangely familiar. Like her mother who lived in Australia.

'Mum!' Hermione cried, unable to open her eyes and look at her, 'Mum, I don't want to sleep! I don't… my soul…'

'Don't worry, dearest, don't worry…' the voice assured her, 'Mum is here. She will take care of her brave daughter. I will make sure that your soul doesn't go anywhere near that Malfoy. Now go to sleep.'

Hermione felt a soft and gentle hand running over her head. It was so comfortable that she melted at its merest caress.

'Mum?'

'Yes, Hermione?'

'I love you.'

'I know, my love. I love you too.'

'Mum?'

'Dearest?'

'Tell dad that I love him too.'

'I will.'

'He can hear me right?'

'Of course he can.'

'Can you bring him with you next time?'

There was a short pause after which Adeline Granger's voice replied, 'I'll ask him. Okay, dearest?'

'Okay, mum.'

'Now go to sleep, love. Mum is here. She'll look over her daughter and grandson.'

'Mum, do you love Adrian?'

'How could I not? He's my stubborn mule's little rabbit.'

'I am not stubborn mule, mum.'

'You are my little…stubborn…Gryffindor…mule…okay?'

'Not okay.'

'Now go to sleep. I am here until you wake up.'

'Mum, how can you sense that I am distressed? You live so far away.'

'Maybe, dearest, but to our souls that distance is nothing. I'd have to come to you even if I were dead. Just like you'll when Adrian is distressed. We are bound together, Hermione, you and I. Forever. Now go to sleep.'

'Mum…'

'Yes, dearest?'

'You won't let Malfoy's soul come around mine.'

'I won't. I promise. Now go to sleep.'

'Good night, mum.'

'Good night, love.'

•••••

Audré waited until Hermione was deep in sleep. Then she leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

How amazingly innocent she looked when asleep! Just like her son, Adrian. How she'd have loved have a daughter like her!

She sat beside her until the clock struck four times, reminding her that it was four o' clock in the morning and it was finally her time to go to bed.

She returned to her own Grand Chamber. Being the wise woman she was, she had sensed Hermione's discomfort and reluctance for sleep. Therefore, she had sat downstairs in the sitting room waiting only to return to help her through the dreams, the realm that was familiar to her like her husband, the God of Dreams.

She sat on a sofa and looked at the painting of her as a ten year old girl, clad in that green dress. It seemed as if it was only yesterday that she was ten and now she was fifty. How fast the time passed by and one wouldn't notice it until it's gone forever.

"Audré, my dear I am so proud of you." She felt a strong arm wind itself around her shoulders. She needed not to turn around and see who it was. She knew it was Morpheus.

"What do you think your cunning nephew is playing at?" she asked him coolly. Her heart was burning with the injustice of it all. "Will he never let her be in peace?"

In reply Morpheus kissed her on the head, "He is your nephew too, Audré." he offered solemnly.

"Maybe but Jean is my daughter." Audré reminded him stubbornly, "I took vow to protect the innocent, Morpheus and she and Adrian are innocent."

"I know." Morpheus was gentle as always.

Audré took a deep calming breath, "I am going to free her, Morpheus, no matter what happens." She declared firmly.

"I know." Her husband said quietly.

"Don't blame me now. I tried to save your nephew as well but if he is a self-destruction spree than I am afraid that I can't save him." Audré retorted angrily.

"I am not blaming you." Morpheus said gently.

"How can you be so cool?" Audré turned to her husband, "I mean you saw how extremely terrified that poor woman was to go to sleep!" she cried, "She thought if she slept her soul would be reunited with Draco's again. No matter what I do, Morpheus, she still hasn't gotten over that shock. She needs to heal."

"Draco needs to heal too, Audré. He's also pretty damaged." Morpheus supplied evenly.

"Why should I care for him?" Audré asked angrily, "I didn't ask him to rape Jean. He did it on his own free will."

"I never said he didn't." Morpheus said calmly, "But it damaged him too. He never fully recovered and winded up long and impossible stories to save himself. They both need to heal, Audré."

Audré sighed. She couldn't deny that a part of her felt sorry for the man who had inadvertently destroyed himself and was intending to do more for the woman he claimed he loved now. "I don't know what to do with this boy."

"I can't believe that."Morpheus said.

Audré shook her head, "No, Morpheus I really don't." she affirmed, "I have manipulated him many times. I still do. But I am not doing it for any personal gain. All I ever wanted was him to come back to right track."

"And what is that right track?" Morpheus was smiling now.

"I don't know." Audré rubbed her forehead and confessed. She was having a terrible headache now. "At times, I think they should be together for the sake of their son. But when I see Jean suffer, I can't contain myself." She looked up at her husband, "I tried to save him, Morpheus. Believe me. I told him not to sell his beloved farm house for Jean's home but he wouldn't listen."

"So you escalated the plan?" her husband enquired.

"I did. My conscience doesn't allow me to let Jean suffer for Draco's lawless and obsessive compulsions." Audré confessed, "I am just waiting for her verdict on him. If she decides to continue with her marriage then I have no problems with it. But if she doesn't, which if what I expect from her, Morpheus, I am going to take a leaf out of that dissolution case and put Jean and Adrian under Fidelius Charm in that very cottage that Draco will buy for them. Besides, she has recently discovered that Draco is behind Rochés's downfall. I am going to help her unearth it so that she can use it to blackmail him into a forced divorce because otherwise, I am pretty sure he won't comply with her."

"What made you think he would still comply, Audré? This is Draco we are dealing with, Audré. He'll fight the world to keep them with him."

"He may but he is a Slytherin and they believe in self preservation first." Audré protested, "If it comes out that he, instead of Rochés poisoned the Minister, he'll be thrown into prison and Adrian will be taken from Jean. So if he truly loves his son and doesn't want to lose him forever, Morpheus, he will comply."

Morpheus sighed, "Draco will hate you for this, Audré."

"I don't care." Audré said carelessly, "I was always misunderstood and it's doesn't matter if it happens again. But Jean will not suffer as long as I am here to take care of her."

"As you wish." Morpheus kissed softly on Audré's right temple, "But I already told you, Audré, no matter how hard you try, the fate is sealed. You can't change it. All you can do is to guide them."

Audré shrugged, "I don't believe in fate, Morpheus. You know that very well."

"But I do. Because that's how we met."

"No. We met because we were liked each other while working."

"No, Audré, we met because we were destined to be together."

"So you are implying that Draco and Jean are destined to be together?"

"Only time can answer that question, Audré. For now, let's be contended with the knowledge that the dream Jean had is the clue to what will unfold in future."

•••••

Having spent the half of his life in gloomy undergrounds of Slytherin dungeons and the other half in lying in late in the mornings, Draco has never seen the true beauty of a sunrise before.

But now that the brilliant orange poured out of the sun and across the glowing horizon he realized what he had missed all these years. Sunrise wasn't just a sun rising in the East. It was a silent message that a new day has come in their lives and with it has brought numerous possibilities.

He watched it as the sky became from blood red to vibrant orange to a mixture of yellow and blue hue. The furrowed clouds from every shade of palest pink to deep crimson fleeted across the vast sky. He wondered which was more beautiful. The sky above or the valley below?

Draco's Sunday morning started even before the sun had risen when his cousin barged into his bedroom unceremoniously and roughly shook him awake. He had wanted to kick him out of his bedroom but when Julian said he wanted to show him something about his uncle Morpheus, he left the bed without any further protests.

After a hasty ablution and dress up, his cousin brought him under the same tree Lillian had brought him the day he won the Quidditch match. They sat in relative silence as the sun rose slowly.

"Last night I did something I shouldn't have done." His cousin started. Draco stared at the endless valley and meadow that lay before his eyes. It stretched as far as his eyes could see.

"I was passing by maman's parlour when I heard you talking about papa." Julian said, "I am sorry but I eavesdropped." He confessed with a slightly embarrassed smile, "But I must admit, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that you'd loved to have my papa as your father."

"I never thought I would." Draco admitted plainly. How very strange things life could do with one? Who'd have thought one day he'd long to have a father like Morpheus?

"So I thought I'd bring you to his most favourite place. Under this Beech tree." Julian said with a warm smile.

"I have been here before. Lillian brought me." Draco said. He had to admit that place had a tranquil charm in it. As if in its depth one would finally find himself.

"I know. She told me." Julian said, "But I brought you here for a very different purpose. Did you ever wonder why of all places, all valleys, all rivers in France, papa chose this place?"

"No." Draco admitted that the possibility has never occurred to him. "Maybe the natural beauty drew him to this place." He offered.

"No." Julian sighed, "Dordogne valley reminded papa of the home he had left behind. He reminded him of England. Of Wiltshire. More specifically of Cotswolds."

"Cotswolds?" Draco sat up straight at the mention of his home, "Cotswolds!" he repeated incredulously.

"Yes, Cotswolds." Julian affirmed solemnly, "Look carefully, Draco. Look at those villages that you see in the valley. Do they look familiar?"

Draco looked down at the village below. The stone houses of the small village looked golden under the newborn sun. The neighbourhood was quiet in early morning. The only sound was that of the streams that were running under bridges with old mill wheels.

"I have never been to England." He heard Julian said, "But I have heard a great deal about it. From papa. He loved his country, you know."

Draco listened attentively. He knew so little about his uncle.

"Papa used to say Dordogne is like Cotswolds in many ways. It's rather like a warmer and sunnier version of that old English village. He said, like Dordogne, Cotswolds also has hills, meadows and rivers. He said the houses are built with a honey coloured stone named Cotswold limestone and they look golden in sun. Just like those houses you see there." He pointed at the cottages, "He loved this place because it made him feel home, as if he was back in England. And he loved this tree…" he looked up at the underside of the lush green foliages and Draco mirrored him, "…this Beech tree. He said he had one back at home. He used to sit under it and read."

Cotswolds, as Draco knew it, was a range of hills in Wiltshire that were known to Muggles as Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. It has unique features unparallel anywhere in England. The rural landscape contained villages made of golden colored Cotswold limestone, historic towns, stately homes and gardens. Personally, Draco had never been to the place. Rural landscape never drew him much. He was fond of grand palaces, vast halls and amphitheatres. Cotswolds was certainly not his cup of tea.

But he wondered if he had been a fool then, like he had been when he hurt Hermione. If Dordogne was his uncle's favourite for its close resemblance to Cotswolds, the original place was bound to be more beautiful.

"Papa used to bring us here on Sundays." Julian reminisced. He had a lost look in his kind and handsome features. "He wanted his children to know English etiquettes. There is a very good English restaurant down there in that village. It's run by an English family who came here long ago. Papa used to take his entire family for a Sunday Roast there."

"Sunday Roast?" Draco repeated, "You used to have Sunday Roast in France?" he was deeply impressed.

"We did." Julian smiled in affirmation, "The Muggle restaurant that serves Sunday Roast is named Scarlet Pimpernel." Julian said, smiling mysteriously now, "It's not as big or grand as the ones you see in Paris but the food is good there. Papa liked their mulled wine. And their Sunday Roast is excellent."

Draco didn't know if he has ever come across two people who were more unlike: his father and his uncle. While Morpheus seemed to like the simplicity of life Lucius strived to crave for the opposite. Mulled wine was prohibited in Malfoy Manor. His father used to call it Muggle peasant's drink. Sunday Roast in a rural restaurant was unimaginable. Malfoys would never set their feet on such a dirty place.

"Do you still go there? I mean for Sunday Roast?" he asked Julian after a while. But the sad and lost look his cousin gave him was enough to tell him that they don't.

"Many things died with papa's death." he replied, "He was only forty two when he passed away in sleep. Maman says that was the first time papa slept since their marriage. He never woke up." He sighed, "Papa's last wish was to be buried in his homeland, under the same Beech tree he spent his childhood. We couldn't. Uncle Lucius was alive then. We knew he wouldn't approve of it. So we buried him in a Muggle cemetery in Courpalay." He pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly crying, "Maman took her wedding rings off and vowed to wear them again when she'll fulfill papa's last wish; when we'll rest him in peace under the Beech tree in Cotswolds."

They sat in silence for a very long time. Draco didn't know how his uncle's family could accept and support the son and wife of a man who didn't let them bury their father.

"I'd love to visit that restaurant uncle took you." he said, trying to sound cheerful. "What's it called?"

"The Scarlet Pimpernel." Julian replied and sniffed. He seemed to have overcome his emotions. "It's named after a famous Muggle storybook – the scarlet pimpernel. The main male protagonist is an English nobleman, Sir Percy. And his wife is a Frenchwoman called Marguerite. They are like my parents." He smiled.

"Do you want to visit England?" Draco asked his cousin, "I can take you if you like." He said with genuine sincerity.

"Not now cousin." Julian shook his head, "But maybe, one day I'll go to see the land that my papa loved so much. For now…" he said and leapt to his feet abruptly, "…I think I should show you the way to Scarlet Pimpernel."

"Why?" Draco stood up and asked. He didn't feel like leaving the sanctuary of the Beech tree so early.

"Because it'll be lunch time when the broom ride will be over." his cousin replied with a wink.

•••••

Even with the prospect of spending an entire morning with Draco Malfoy, Hermione didn't feel anxious or resentful. She felt unnaturally relaxed and well rested.

Last night, she noted with a little shame, she had fallen asleep even though desperately trying not to do so. But it wasn't as bad as she had expected it. On the contrary, it was very good.

She was visited by her mother who had helped her fall asleep. She even dreamt of her. In it she had seen herself giving Adrian piano lessons while Adeline Granger sat beside her and watched them silently.

She had started with the really easy ones, like Für Elise by Beethoven, the same one she had tried to teach Ron back in Grimmauld Place. Her son was talented. Unlike Ron, he had caught up with the tune as soon as Hermione started teaching him.

When she woke up at quarter past eight, the enticing music of that dream was still lingering on her sleepy eyes. She breathed and savoured the peachy smell of her sleeping son; she looked and savoured the sight of him; she smiled and thanked him for making her life so special and worth living. Adrian was the biggest blessing any mother could ever dream of.

She had felt exceptionally happy when remembering her mother who had protected her soul while she slept. The feeling of being loved such, even if the person was thousands of miles away, was heavenly. She had smiled at her son when he yawned in his dream and muttered, 'broom ride.'

Hermione had confided her dream to the dream-master Audré. She had smiled and offered to install a pianoforte in Hermione's bedroom.

"We have a spare one that'll easy fit in that corner." She had pointed at a place just beside her reading table, "That way you can give Adrian lessons without any undue hindrance."

Hermione took the undue hindrance as none other than Draco Malfoy. He was only allowed in her formal life; not her private one. She had dressed herself for the upcoming family outing. Adrian, though he wasn't very enthusiastic of his broom ride even until yesterday, could be seen talking excitedly about it to his rabbit and owl.

"Mama can we take Hedwig?" he asked her as she pulled down his favourite yellow with 'cute is my middle name' T-shirt over his head, "I think she'll like the broom ride."

Hermione was patient and told her son that Hedwig was an owl who liked to fly itself and not broom rides. Adrian then offered to take Peter and Gwyn.

By the time Hermione persuaded him to leave his pets behind it was almost ten thirty. She was informed by Draco that he'd be waiting for them around ten thirty.

She left the quarter with her hopping son. The kid seemed to have forgotten all about his previous reluctance to go with his real father. He was very cheerful and eager to have a ride on a broom that was the most anticipated one of the season.

They met an equally cheerful Lillian who informed them that Nicolas would be visiting the Château to play chess with her. Hermione smiled at her. She was happy for her sister-in-law. There were some of those who were as fortunate as she was: such as herself.

Draco was more formal looking when she found him standing before the Grand Floo. He looked less tired and very serene. Hermione wondered if he was privately enjoying his victory over Adrian.

He noticed how his eyes lingered for a fraction of second on her neckline before he ushered them into the Floo fireplace. Hermione had purposely hidden the blasted Cornicello inside her dress. If she was wearing it, it would be on her own terms and not Malfoys.

•••••

Alexis Delacour was deeply frowning at a piece of news that has appeared on the day's prime newspapers.

It was strategically placed in the upper left corner of the page where the readers' eyes would inevitably catch it: Monsieur Jonas Furrer and Madame Audré Chombrun Malfoy were announcing the official courtship of Nicolas Furrer and Lillian Malfoy.

Alexis read and reread the news several times and felt a bitter taste in his mouth. His eyes lingered on Lillian's name and for an inexplicable reason his heart sank.

She was officially in a courtship with the Swiss Minister's son now.

But why was he being bothered by it?

As far as he could recall, his feelings for her were not of love. It was a mere whim of attraction and he was ashamed to admit it to himself.

He read the piece on last time and left the breakfast table. The toy Excalibur was ready to be handed to Adrian and he was planning to do it this morning. He wondered what would be his reaction if he came face to face with Lillian.

Wrapping the wood carved sword in a brown paper, Alexis left for Château de la Grange-Bléneau. As soon as he materialized there, he heard sounds of laughter.

One of them he recognized as Lillian's. The other was unfamiliar. But somewhere inside his heart, Alexis knew who it was.

Lillian and Nicolas were playing a game of chess. The pieces were the same life sized ones tahta he had used while playing with her. He stood and watched the happily oblivious couple for a while. Lillian artfully saved her Knight and took Nicolas's Bishop in one good move. Alexis smiled. The witch did know how to play the game.

Leaving them play and enjoy themselves, Alexis went to meet Hermione, Adrian and the rest of the family. He knew she'd be asking him a lot of questions notably why he was leaving the post. But he also knew that she'd understand him well. Jean Granger was a clever and considerate witch.

But he met not Hermione or her questions but the news that they were out with none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Adrian won a test ride on Aeromate Supreme." Julian informed him gleefully, "Draco took them for the ride and a good Sunday lunch."

Even though Alexis had let go of Hermione's hope consciously, a part of him was jealous thinking that the arrogant brat was spending a good time with the woman and kid he loved. He remembered the dinner they had had shortly before Adrian was kidnapped. It had been a wonderful evening. Hermione had been positively glowing that day. He wondered if she was glowing now.

He didn't sit long after that. Audré told him the new developments in the case. He listened to her half-heartedly. The other half of heart he knew was with Hermione and Adrian wherever they might be.

On his way to the apparition point, he ran into Nicolas and Lillian. The young lady nodded curtly at him before disappearing inside the Château. Nicolas, however, stayed back and exchanged polite words with him.

Alexis congratulated him on his courtship but somehow it didn't come from his heart. Nicolas seemed deeply in love with Lillian. The notion strangely disturbed him.

He returned home empty hearted and handed. His head was aching and his heart, even more. He asked for a cup of tea and Apolline, reading his face like an open book asked him what it was.

Alexis confessed everything to her; from his dwindling feeling towards Lillian to his pang of jealousy for Hermione. In the end his mother offered him an invaluable piece of advice.

"I think you should see the Wandmaker, Alexis." said Apolline, "It's got to be something about your wand." She said pensively.

"My wand?" Alexis was taken aback, "What's my wand have to do with it?"

"Because…" Apolline let out an exasperated cry, "…Lillian's one has a Veela hair core and you are a half Veela's son, Alexis. Maybe the wand core is drawing you towards her."

"If that is the case then she should be drawn to me maman." Alexis countered, "But here I feel something strange pulling me towards her."

"Whatever, Alexis." Apolline shrugged, "I think you should consult it with Wandmaker Curtius. Maybe he can tell you what it is."

Alexis wondered if anyone could tell him what was happening to him. He'd soon be promoted as the Senior Undersecretary and now he was stuck a bizarre game of hearts. It was wasting so much of his time and energy.

"Fine, maman, I'll meet him as soon as I can." He declared a last. Apolline was relieved and went back to her household chores with a smile.

Alexis watched her busy over the Sunday lunch. He felt his appetite leave as he remembered Hermione and Adrian would be having it with Draco.

'What's wrong with you Alexis Delacour?' he asked himself in evident distress, 'If you love Jean then why are you thinking about Lillian?'

No one answered his query. He was, like Hermione was at that moment, left to deal with unpleasant thoughts and peoples.

•••••

Riding Aeromate with Adrian, Draco had the time of his life that morning.

They had arrived there a little before quarter to eleven and were taken inside a large stadium that could easily host an indoor Quidditch tournament. The staffs were friendly and treated them with much respect. Draco had almost felt like his old self again: important and dignified.

The broom in question was a bright silver one, like the British brand Silver Arrow except it was faster and more stylish. The twigs in the tail were carefully trimmed to exquisite precision and the handle was as smooth and shiny as the finest of silk. Draco stared at it in awe. Even the Firebolt appeared like a household broom before Aeromate.

"The design is very new, Monsieur." The instructor, a red headed witch, told him, "Your cousin, Monsieur Julian helped us a lot with his vast knowledge on broomsticks."

"Julian helped you to design it?" Draco asked the witch who grinned and nodded. He was suddenly visited by a suspicion that his cousin had some part in winning Adrian this broom ride. He stole a careful glance at Hermione and Adrian. They were standing a little away from him and admiring the broom. Adrian was positively dancing in glee. His mother was happy but careful in showing it before Draco.

The ride started soon afterwards. Using a thick leather belt Adrian was first fixed to Draco's body. The little boy protested feebly first but when his mother assured him that it was fine, he came off his objections. Draco wondered if he didn't like being closer to his own father.

Aeromate was sleek, stylish and bent to Draco's slightest of will. He took them to fifty feet height and encircled the entire stadium first. Adrian's silvery blonde curls were whipping against his face as he flew. But he had no complaints. He just loved his petit form against him.

Julian had told him that Adrian liked to loop dance in the air. So did it twice; in slow motion. Then he did a steep dive which caused both Hermione and her son to scream their throats raw in fear. After that he performed a zig zag maneuver in the air and noted how his son loved it. The little boy was all red from screaming and excitement of the ride.

The test ride ended with a last loop dance. By the time Draco landed on the ground safely with his son, he could produce the best Patronus in the world.

Hermione came running to them. She seemed on the verge of hitting Draco for that steep dive he had done. But thankfully she only glared at him and took Adrian in her arms.

"You alright, little rabbit?" she asked him anxiously, checking on all his body parts, "Monsieur didn't hurt you, did he?" she glared at Draco again.

As Adrian shook his head and went on to describe his wonderful ride, Draco pondered how he was going to ask Hermione for a family lunch. Would she be angry with him?

He waited another fifteen minutes for her to cool down. During that time, a photographer came and took their family photo. Draco and Adrian were asked to mount the broom while Hermione stood beside their son. He noted how she tried to keep a large distance from him.

They were done and the sun, Draco noted, was almost on the western horizon when he decided to pursue Hermione with the offer of a lunch.

"Hermione…ahem…" he cleared his throat as the Gryffindor lioness gave him a cool stern look, "…ah…have you checked the time?" he opted to start it slowly.

"Why? What's wrong with the time?" she asked back, checking her watch.

"I mean, it's almost one o' clock." Draco replied solemnly.

"So?" Hermione blinked expectantly.

"I-was-wondering-if-I-can-take-you-all-for-a-Sunday-Roast." Draco said it all too fast.

Hermione blinked again. "Pardon?" she said.

Draco looked down at his son. He was giving them a genuinely curious stare.

"I was wondering if I can take you all for a Sunday Roast." He repeated the same appeal but this time with proper pauses and punctuations.

"We have a lunch due in the Château." Hermione denied his offer very carefully. She sounded forced patient.

"Actually…" Draco gave her a charming smile, "…we are not. I told aunt Audré that we'll be eating out."

A stony silence followed his proclamation. Hermione gave him a look of pure venom before looking down at Adrian.

"Little rabbit, Monsieur say he wants to take us for a lunch. Do you want to go with him?" she asked him evenly.

At her words, Adrian's almond shaped grey eyes shifted from his mother to Draco. "You want to take us for a lunch?" he asked.

Draco nodded solemnly. "I do."

"Where?" he asked again.

"There is nice restaurant in Dordogne. It's called The Scarlet Pimpernel. I heard it was Grandpa Morpheus's favourite place."

"Grandpa Morpheus liked it?"

Draco nodded again. "I heard so."

Adrian turned to his mother. "Mama, Grandpa Morpheus like it." he said innocently.

Hermione seemed to consider his words before finally making up her mind. "Fine." she said curtly.

Draco nodded and smiled as soberly as he could. Had he been in the air he would have done a somersault in glee.

•••••

Hermione liked The Scarlet Pimpernel as soon as she walked into the restaurant with Adrian. Like the book she had read numerous times in childhood, the place had a touch of elegant romance in it.

It was tucked in a rural corner of Dordogne, a place she had heard of but never been. She had read that it was a land of century long dispute between the French and British, both of whom wanted to claim it for their countries. Nowadays a lot of British tourists visit the place purely to enjoy the shiny summer version of pastoral England.

The cosy restaurant was arranged around a small pool in a courtyard of a four sided building. The building itself was made of yellow stones giving it a golden look. Strangely it reminded her of her grandmother's home in England and she immediately felt home. The tables were of polished and shiny mahogany like that of Great Hall and instead of porcelain, the plates, goblets and cutleries were of silver. The whole setting reminded her of Hogwarts.

Like a very courteous host, Draco drew the first chair for her. Hermione prudently offered it to Adrian and drew out another one for her own use.

To her detest, the Slytherin took the seat just opposite to hers. She avoided eye contacts with him and looked around as casually as she could. She would be damned if she appeared uncomfortable.

Soon she started noticing small details about the place. The blackboard with the day's menu was written in English. The walls were adorned with English Ivy. The pot plants on the edge of the pool and around the whole courtyard were common English plants. Hermione recognized some of them. Primrose. Cuckooflower. Bellflower. Gentian. Pansy. Oxlip. Orchids and last but not the least, English rose and lavender. Their slight fragrance was lingering in the air and unbeknownst to herself, Hermione smiled.

All in all it was a homelike place. Somewhere Hermione would love to return for her next lunch.

"Grandpa liked this place?" she heard Adrian asking Draco. The little boy seemed impressed by the slightly different setting of the restaurant. The family ones Hermione took him previously were mostly in Paris and bound to be fancier. "I like it too." he opined openly.

Hermione liked it too but she wasn't going to confess that before Draco.

"Hermione?" he however seemed keen to learn her opinion.

Hermione shifted her gaze to him. Draco Malfoy appeared very unfamiliar to her.

The usual malice in his cruel grey eyes was gone. They were twinkling now, something that she has never seen in them. Even the smile he gave her seemed genuine. He didn't appear as the rapist Malfoy.

Hermione wondered if it was her eyes or the ambience of the November sky or the reality.

"It's fine." she said curtly and turned her attention to the surroundings again.

The place wasn't very big. There were only fifteen tables and except one, all were full in the lunchtime. The waiters seemed busy taking the orders from the diners. They weren't even stylishly uniformed but the attire was clean. She liked the casual look about them. It felt so home.

"So whose flying do you like more, Adrian?" Draco's drawl enquired again, "Mine or Uncle Julian's?"

Hermione looked at her son. She was curious to learn his neutral answer.

"I like…" the little boy paused and looked at his mother, "…both." He concluded plainly.

"I think Uncle Julian is a better flyer." Hermione said flatly, "He knows how to fly with kids and definitely won't break their necks while diving."

"I liked the dive." Adrian piped, "It was fun. But I like Uncle Julian too. He makes jokes when we fly. He shows me how to control the broom."

"Fine." Draco held up his hand, "Uncle Julian is better. I'll try to learn from him."

Hermione seriously doubted it. She knew he was just trying to keep up with them. She looked around and spotted some kids gathered around the pool. They were pointing excitedly at the water and seemed to be trying to decide which fish was the best one.

"…I like the gold fish…look at her fins…"

"…but that black fish has bigger fins…"

"…no! That white one is the prettiest…"

"Adrian." Hermione turned to her son who was sitting quietly. He has been taught not to fidget while in restaurants for that wasn't the mark of a gentleman. "Why don't you go and watch the fishes?"

"Fish?" her son's eyes lit up at once, "I like fish. Louis said he has two gold fishes. One is Marc and one is Ceto." He said and left his chair to join the kids.

Hermione turned her attention to Draco. She needed some serious talking with him.

"Let me make something…" she started but was interrupted when the waiter approached their table. Draco, however, solemnly gestured at her to place the order.

Hermione looked down at the menu book. As expected, all were English dishes. From the starter to the main course to the side dishes and the desserts.

"I was told that the Sunday Roast is excellent here." she heard Draco asking the Muggle waiter. It surprised her that he was talking to a Muggle quite normally and not like they were the scums of the earth. "My uncle liked to come here with his family."

"May I enquire what his name is, sir." The waiter asked in fine English accent. "We offer special treats to our old diners."

"Morpheus Malfoy." Draco replied and the waiter nodded in acknowledgement.

"The gentleman with long silvery blonde hair." He said with a smile and eyed Draco, "I remember him. My family has been running this place for two generations, sir. I used to help dad in it from a very young age. I know almost everyone of our old customers. Mr. Malfoy liked to come here with his French wife and two children. Their names were…"

"Julian and Lillian Malfoy." Draco supplied. Hermione, hiding her face behind the menu book, was listening to their conversation though trying to appear quite disinterested.

"Yes." the waiter was grinning broadly now, "Julian was a very funny kid. I remember how he once ran into our kitchen and asked me if he could help us to peel the cucumbers. Mum wouldn't let him but he insisted so much that she had to content him with a cucumber and a knife."

Hermione stifled a smile. Julian, it seemed, was always a complete contrast to his pureblood bigot cousin.

"Why do you live here?" she heard Draco asking the waiter who said his name was Luke, "Don't you want to return to your own country?"

Luke shook his head. "I like Dordogne." He said plainly, "It's sunny. I heard it rains a lot in England."

They carried out the informal conversation for a while during which Draco asked Luke more about his cousins and in the end, asked Hermione to choose the dishes for lunch.

"For me and my son…" Hermione considered the list of starters, "…we'll take the soup of the day. I see…" she checked the blackboard, "…it's a roasted vine tomato soup." She read out.

"And for your husband, Madam?" the waiter enquired.

Hermione coughed loudly. "Sorry." She cleared her throat, "Whatever he likes to take."

"I'll take the dishes my wife orders." Draco replied solemnly, "Including the Sunday roast." He added.

Trying to control her nerve with the cunning man, Hermione returned to the menu book.

"For the roast…" Hermione paused over the name of meats, "…we'll take herb roasted chicken with buttered peas and lettuce."

"And the dessert, Mam?" Luke prompted.

Hermione checked the list of desserts. "That'll be an Apple Tarte Tatin."

"Any wine, sir, mam?"

"Ah…" Hermione looked expectantly at Draco, "It will be as per sir's choice."

"Which will be none. Malfoys don't drink before kids." He said and Luke left with a word of thanks.

Hermione wanted to throw a brick on his face. Malfoy's don't do this…Malfoy's don't do that…so what do Malfoys do actually? Rape woman and kidnap children?

"Listen, Malfoy…" she started icily, "Can you please stop this 'Malfoys don't dos and don'ts' bullshit?"

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Because it's a white lie. Malfoys can do everything."

"I agree." Draco nodded, "But this Malfoy doesn't wish to be so."

"Obviously." Hermione arched an eyebrow, "This Malfoy is a…" she paused and looked around, "Julian certainly wouldn't touch a woman like that." she said pointedly.

Draco went pale. "Please Hermione. Can we talk about something else?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione nodded. She composed herself into a more dignified demeanor. "The thing is if you wish to learn to be Adrian's father, which you claimed and I highly doubt, you have to be yourself and not copy me in everything."

"I am not copying you, Hermione. It's the custom that ladies place the order in restaurants."

"That golden rule isn't applicable for me, Malfoy. I'll not eat what you like and you also shouldn't try to do the same. We are different individuals with opposite tastes. We have come at terms to be civil before Adrian. That doesn't include you to like what I like or the same in my case."

"Fine. I agree. But it so happens that I like tomato soup and roast chicken. I also like apple tart though I'd have liked it more if they had fig pudding. What should I do now? Change the order and take the roasted veal instead?"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. This man was so distressing!

"Hermione, please try to understand." She heard him saying, "I am trying my best. Please co-operate."

She sighed and shrugged.

"I heard you met Pasteur yesterday." He started again conversationally.

Hermione nodded curtly.

"Did you go there alone?"

"No. Monsieur Sergeant took me."

There was a pause.

"What did Pasteur say?" he asked again.

"He said a lot of things. Aunt Audré, Julian and your boss knows everything. Ask them for details."

"I was wondering if I could ask you more personal questions."

"Like what?"

"Like…hmm…about your parents. What did they do, where you lived in England and these things."

"No, you can't."

"It's natural Hermione that a husband will know about his wife. I am pretty sure Adrian will be shocked if he learns that his papa doesn't know anything about his Mama."

"Are you blackmailing me, Malfoy?"

"No. I am being very logical. I mean which kid would like it if his father doesn't know anything about his mother?"

"You are not his father, Malfoy. You are his trophy father."

"Even trophy fathers know about their wives."

Hermione huffed in exasperation. This man was even more tiring than Pasteur.

"You are specifically designed to give me a headache, Malfoy."

"I am trying not to do so, Hermione. I just asked you a simple question."

"And I said a simple 'no'."

"That 'no' is anything but simple. You know everything about my family. I don't know anything about yours. It's suspicious even to a three year old."

Hermione contemplated on Draco's words. "My parents were dentists. We lived in London." She answered to the point.

"London? You lived in London?"

"Why? What's wrong with that place? Can I not live there?"

"I didn't say that. I heard it's pretty costly to live there."

"Contrary to the popular belief, Malfoy, my parents were not beggars. We lived in Hampstead Garden Suburb. It's the wealthiest county in entire London."

"I see." Draco nodded thoughtfully and the soup was served. Relieved, Hermione left her seat and to bring her son to the table.

"Mama, I like that big red fish." He showed her a goldfish with bulging eyes and black and white fins and tail, "I want one like it."

"Mama and I will buy one for you after the lunch is over." Came Draco's signature drawl before Hermione could even open her mouth. Turning around she saw him standing behind her.

She wanted to tell him to go to the table and stay there. There was no need to follow them or her like a dog hungry for bones.

"Adrian. We'll talk about the fish later. Okay?" she gave her son a warning look, "Now let's go back to table."

"But Mama…" her son tried to protest.

"Adrian. I told you we'll talk about it later." Hermione smiled patiently. She grabbed him by his little shoulder and guided to their table.

Her son was exceptionally quiet while taking the soup. Hermione noticed him stealing curious glances at her and Draco once a while and then returning to his food.

"We had a large pond in our Wiltshire Manor." She heard Draco say, "It was full of fishes. There was a bridge over it. I used to stand there and look down at the fishes."

"Did you have red fishes?" Adrian asked him curiously.

"We had every kind of fishes. Red, blue, black, white, yellow, orange. The pond wasn't very deep. If one stood on the bridge, he could easily see the fishes swimming in shallow and clear water. It was your Grandpa's idea. He liked to collect the best things for his home."

"But you said you don't like Grandpa."

"No, Adrian. I never said that. He is my father. I love him. But I think Uncle Morpheus was a better father than he."

Adrian sighed. "Mama." he called Hermione and waved her to bring her ear close to his mouth.

"What?" she was puzzled but did what she was told.

"Mama, I want to pee."

"Pee?" Hermione repeated, "We are in the middle of a lunch, Adrian." she reminded him.

"But I really really need it." her son supplied with a pitiful look.

Hermione straightened up. One thing she knew about the kids was disastrous things could happen if a kid was denied to go to pee. "Okay fine. I'll ask the waiter where the toilet is." She said and looked for one in the vicinity.

"Don't worry, Hermione, I'll take care of that." Draco evidently was listening closely to their hushed conversation. "Adrian. Come with father." he offered him.

"No, not you." Adrian looked appalled.

"Why not?" Draco asked, astonished.

"I go with Mama all the times." Adrian replied truthfully.

"Yes, Malfoy. Adrian goes with me." Hermione wasn't taking anymore of this man's nonsense. Why was he butting in everything?

"I can understand that you did. But Mama is a lady and you are a man, Adrian." Draco seemed to know the perfect excuse to disarm him. "A man should go to pee with a man, son. Not with a lady." He said solemnly.

Adrian couldn't possibly protest after such a claim on his chivalry. Exasperated and tired, Hermione let her son go to pee with Draco. She wondered how very correct Audré had been. Draco Malfoy, indeed, was a very focused man. He knew how to achieve his means. If she wanted to win against him, she needed to study him more.

The men returned from their little excursion after a while and the main course was served just after that.

"What is this, Mama?" her son asked her as soon as the roast was served. He was unfamiliar with English food.

"This is called a Sunday Roast." Hermione replied, "In Britain most families enjoy a special meal on Sundays. They eat roasted meat, vegetables and Yorkshire Puddings." She showed them the individual items one by one.

"Oh." Adrian nodded and took up his spoon and fork with a smile.

•••••

Draco noticed how Hermione finished her meal.

She ate like a bird; as minimum as she could without being noticed.

It took her three times to finish one small spoonful of soup. She took the smallest piece of meat and one small roasted potato. The Yorkshire pudding was also the smallest one on her plate.

Draco knew why she was doing this. She didn't want to eat something that her rapist would be paying. But she also couldn't sit still as everyone ate. So she took a middle path: eating minimum.

He wanted to tell her to eat to her heart's content. He knew from her face that she liked the food. She spoke occasionally; mainly to their son. She showed him the food and how to eat them. Draco just loved the view.

He wanted to ask her many things. Where in Hampstead Garden was her home? How was it like? Was it a cottage too? But cottage in a wealthy suburb was very unlikely.

He also wanted to know about her parents. What kind of people were they? He saw them only once in his second year and hadn't pay much attention. He couldn't even remember their faces. He wanted to know who did Hermione look like? Her mother or her father? Or both? He wanted to know if she ever had any siblings. She never mentioned one in those memories he had seen. He wanted to know about her childhood. How was she like then? Bossy? Brilliant? Naughty? Stubborn? Or a good girl like little Jean?

He wanted to know many things about Hermione Granger but didn't dare to ask. They have already quite a few arguments and he wasn't willing to have more.

It was almost at the end of the lunch that a family of four caught his eyes.

They had just walked into the restaurant. A man with his wife and two daughters. They were twins and to Draco, strangely adorable. They were clinging to their father as if their lives depended on it. They took a table not very away from Draco's. The man sat down with his daughters on either side of him. His wife took the fourth seat. She was glowing.

Draco stole a glance at his own wife. She was somber and quiet. He looked at the twin girls again. They were very entertaining.

If one daughter would give her father a goblet of water the other would do the same. The man ended up having two goblets which he had to finish painstakingly. Next came the waiter. Both the daughters tried to choose the best dish for their dear father. It was a silent competition but Draco was sure the man was enjoying it. The twin's mother seemed to enjoy it too. In the end the man ended up having two plates of each dish his daughters have chosen for him.

Draco smiled. He would love to have those girls as his twin daughters. They were so caring. He stole a glance at his son. The boy was also looking at the direction of that table. He then turned to his mother and asked:

"Mama, why do they look like each other?"

Draco understood that Adrian meant the twins. It seemed that his son had never come across one.

"They are called twins, dear." Hermione replied with a kind smile. "Twins happen when a Mama has two babies at once." Draco noticed how her eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on the twin's laughing mother. He noted how she suppressed a sigh and tried to hide her resentment. He understood her pains now. He understood her very well.

She felt stuck and deprived in this marriage. She had told him so too. She wanted to break free. She wanted a husband she loved, a father that her son loved. But did she understand Draco loves her now? That he wants to make her happy even at the cost of everything he had?

He remembered the locket he has won for her. Hermione's locket. It was in his iron safe and very soon would reach her. He just needed another day to execute his plans with it. The once impatient Draco Malfoy was very patient now.

"Mama, if I had a twin will she look like me?" Adrian's new question brought him out of his musings.

"No." Hermione shook her head, "If your twin is a sister, Adrian, she will not look like you. But if it's a brother, he'll definitely look like you."

"Why?" the ever curious boy asked again.

"Because twins with same sex, I mean…" Hermione paused, "…twin brothers look like each other. Twin sisters look like one another. But twin brother and sister don't. Why, my love?"

Adrian was very quiet when he replied in an almost hushed voice.

"I don't want my twin to look like me."

It was as if someone has shoved a big stone through Draco's throat and silenced him forever. He stared at his son in disbelief.

Adrian disliked him so much that he wouldn't like another one with the same features despite the fact that he craved a sibling. Draco's heart simply shattered into millions of pieces.

Hermione, he noted, was stunned too. She stared at the little boy for a pregnant moment and bit her lower lip.

"It's alright, little rabbit." She smiled with such pain on her face that it hurt Draco. "It's fine to not have a twin."

"No, it's not." The little boy countered. It amazed Draco how openly he confessed of his true feelings. The kid felt lonely. He wanted a sibling. Was that something very big to ask for?

"Gina and Louis said I look like Monsiuer." Adrian continued, as if it was a crime for one to look like his father. "But I want to look like you, Mama."

"Gina and Louis are damn wrong." Draco couldn't recognize his own voice as he spoke. Suddenly everything was completely meaningless in his life. The ride. The lunch. His wife hated him. His son hated him to the point of not wanting to inherit his looks. "You don't look like me at all." He lied with a broken heart.

"I don't?" Adrian seemed hopeful as he fixed his wide grey eyes on Draco.

"No, you don't." Draco said more firmly. He needed Adrian to believe that he didn't look like him. "You look like Aunt Lillian." he chose the only person with closest resemblance to him.

"Aunt Lilli?" Adrian seemed skeptic about Draco's choice.

"Of course. She has silvery blonde hair and so do you. She has the same nose, the same chin…" his voice almost failed him in pain, "…the same eyes. Except that they are blue. You eyes, I think are Grandpa Morpheus's grey ones. Like uncle Julian has. And you look loads better than I ever did. You have your Mama's beautiful curls." He pointed out the crucial resemblance between mother and son, "Mine are straight and boring."

"Merci, Monsieur." Adrian smiled so tenderly that it melted Draco's broken heart, "I know I look like Mama." he declared happily.

The rest of the Sunday Roast was meaningless to Draco. He has had enough to satiate him for a life time.

He paid the bill and they left the restaurant around three o'clock. Hermione gave him a questioning look asking if he wanted to accompany them back to Château and he shook his head. He wasn't feeling well. He needed some fresh air.

Draco appeared under the Beech tree moments later and slumped on the grass.

Like his uncle, the tree was his new sanctuary and under its deep shade he found his home.

He folded and drew his knees closeer before hiding his face in them.

That afternoon, he cried his heart out.

•••••

As Hermione returned to Château with Adrian, she sensed a strange mixture of feelings for Draco.

She felt bad for him; really bad. She wasn't a vindictive woman. She knew she hated him. But the look that had appeared on the man's face when Adrian said he didn't want to look like him was truly saddening.

But she felt proud too. She has survived a family lunch with her rapist and Adrian hasn't suspected anything.

She felt empty. She felt pity. She felt many things she couldn't even name. But she knew she felt them.

As soon as they returned, Adrian had run to his aunt and asked if he did look like her. Lillian, to Hermione's immense surprise, confirmed it.

"Everyone knows little nephews take after their aunts." She said with an obvious look, "So how was the ride?"She enquired.

As her son started telling her a long and excited version of his broom ride, Hermione went back to her earlier thoughts.

What was she feeling for Draco and why was she feeling it?

Was her soul really betraying her or was she betraying herself?

Where were the answers she sought? How could she find them?

Who was this Hermione Granger and who was that Draco Malfoy?