A/N: Thanks to Grovek26, SereniteRose, and dragonjun for their reviews on last chapters. Thanks everyone for the favourites and follows.
*** I am well aware that this memory chapter is slow but since there are quite a good few ones, I have to take great care while writing them. TPA is my life's work. I may not be able to write something as this ever again and thus, this caution and slowness.
Acknowledgements:
***Every single name, place, food and fact written in this chapter was carefully considered after checking map, geography, location, articles and addresses. Beauxbatons Express is based on Venice-Simpleton Orient Express. And it does take almost eight plus hours to reach Toulouse which is why the journey is mostly made at night.
Well, that's all and you can leave your feedback if you like.
This chapter is rated M, as always.
The link to TPA Pinterest page is on my profile page. Some of the things mentioned here can be found there.
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 82: Grape of Wrath (Part4/3)
Despite spending a night in the werewolf facility, almost frozen to death, Draco doused his face and hair with ice cold water several times. He needed to clear the fog that hung low over his thoughts.
Clutching the sides of the basin, he looked up at the mirror. The man who stared back him appeared haunted like the sixteen year old Draco having an internal torment in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He had dark circles under the eyes, and looked thinner. Draco turned his head sideways. The bandage has been removed and a thin pink scar the shape of a scythe was clearly visible.
He focused his stare at the man's eyes next. They were trademark Malfoy grey but not the trademark Malfoy cold. He identified some new emotions there: generous amount of thoughtfulness, liberal dose of sorrow and a deep shade of remorse. Was Audré right then? Has he never truly felt remorse?
Leaving the basin, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, his eyes still fixed at the image in the mirror. He remembered once smashing that mirror in agony and letting himself bleed freely when Audré came in and healed his wounds. But they were the superficial ones he had, not the deep ones he received the day he assaulted Hermione.
Draco shook his head in distress. Why did he ever do that? Assault a woman? He had been asking himself that one question over and over again and receiving the same answer: he was angry because she attacked his mother. He was under the possession of his inner monster. The extreme wrath wasn't really his; it was the monster's who controlled him when he was emotionally vulnerable.
But what now? The burden of that taint was getting heavier with each day that passed; with each moment that he felt the true extent of Hermione's hatred and realized the full implication of his crime. He was responsible for what happened to her and she paid for it physically, mentally, spiritually and beyond.
Draco closed his eyes in agony. If it was hurting the assaulter this much he couldn't imagine how extremely damaged Hermione was behind the smile of normalcy she put on every day! That day in the dungeons, he had not only breached her virginity, he had crossed all limits in hurting her and left her to deal with completely alone. It might have an act of vengeance or anger for him but for her it was a self imposed exile, thousands of sacrifice, endless hours of mental and physical trauma, countless nightmares and a baby that she grew to love only have him almost taken from her if not married to the rapist. Could life be more unfair? And here he was complaining his losses? His lack of a proper family and a son who didn't address him as a father? What had he done actually to attain that position in their eyes? What had he done? As a husband? As a father? As a man? As a human being?
Draco sighed and replayed the memories inside his head once again. He had been so wrong about so many things. Bill Weasley, the eldest son of the same Arthur Weasley his father loved to ridicule for his shabby state, certainly was not detestable just for his affiliation with that impoverished family. He was a kind and sensible man, a good choice for Adrian's godfather. Draco supported it whole heartedly.
He had been wrong about Alexis too. That man was anything but conceited. Previously, Draco used to think that he had charmed Hermione with his know-it-all superiority. He was wrong. Alexis had charmed Hermione only by his observant nature and silent and selfless caring habit. If anyone was self-centered here, it was him, the esteemed Draco Malfoy.
But the most important part of the memories was the wealth of information it contained about Hermione and her uncharacteristic silence interspersed between the casual conversations. No one had to tell Draco but he knew, he felt it in his heart that she was holding something back, hiding them behind her sighs and silent stream of tears.
With one last look at his demented reflection, Draco stood up and left the bathroom. The last of the afternoon sun was glowing in the mid-November sky. A strange amber light was pouring into his bedroom. The Pensieve was still there where he had left it, on his table. Beside it were his leather-bound diary, quill and drawing instruments. Draco sat on his chair but instead of reaching for the Pensieve, he opened the diary. He felt that he needed to note down the things he had found and realized down in those memories.
On the first page he wrote down his observations on Bill Weasley and Alexis Delacour. They were Hermione's confidants. On the next he wrote down the few important facts he had gather about her: her old home address which was at number nineteen Heathgate Church road, Hampstead garden suburb, London. He paused and looked up, trying to visualize how the home might have looked like. She had once said that it had a front garden with daisy and a swing that his father had made. But she never mentioned how many storied was it or how many rooms it had.
Draco pursed his lips and started writing again. According to Hermione, her room was on the first floor landing of that house. How was it like? What did it have? Bed? Bookcase? Table and chair? Vanity? His own at the Malfoy Manor was not a room but a suite with separate library, men's dressing room, and a walk-in-closet. He was never an avid reader as Hermione was but Lucius had said that every aristocratic male have their own private libraries to display the richness of their knowledge and taste. Looking back now, Draco wondered if it was a cheap trick. Knowledge certainly couldn't be bought.
There was another interesting thing he had learnt. Hermione said she hid all her belongings into a bag with Undetectable Extension Charm and hid it under a staircase in her grandma's home. Also the said home was not very far from Hermione's old home and in a place called Arden Street. Draco winced impatiently. If he only had a Muggle map of London? He could surely find out where Hermione's home was. And that grandma she had reminisced? Was her she still alive? Was the bag still there? What did it contain? Old photos? Books? What was there that Hermione couldn't bear to part with and couldn't destroy either? What about her aunt Cathy? Did she have a family too? What happened to them when Hermione left England? And that cottage at Somerset? Holly Pond Cottage it was called. Was it still there? Apart from three bedrooms and a limestone outer wall, what else was in it?
Draco bit his lips in dispair and finished his writing with a lot of unanswered questions. He was dead interested to find more about Hermione Granger's early life in England. But how? She wasn't going to tell him about it, that much was clear from their last normal conversation during the Sunday Roast.
He closed the diary and drew the Pensieve closer this time. If there was any way he could know more about her, it was those memories. They were proving to be invaluable. With a deep breath, he plunged into its silvery depth, determined to find more about Hermione.
Everything was just as he had left it half an hour ago. The Delacours were packing Hermione's trunk for Beauxbatons as she watched them from her seat on the windowsill. As soon as Draco landed there, a knock on the door made the ladies turn their heads.
"May we come in?" Bill and Alexis were standing on the threshold, asking for the ladies' permission in unison. Both were on their casual attires and Draco took care to note how plain and simple Alexis's were. He looked down at his own. They were pretty expensive compared to his.
Hermione nodded, rearranging her robe over the bump, as a clear but subtle sign to have it modestly covered. Draco had noticed her doing it more often than usual now. It seemed that she still wasn't very comfortable with men or anyone looking at her baby bump and felt immensely secured to have it covered from their prying eyes. He remembered Apolline's words about Hermione's loss of faith on men in general and the caution Gustave, Alexis and Bill applied when approaching her. There were also Dame Peronélle's wise words about post trauma patients virtually reliving their horrific past experiences every day. That explained a lot to him. The assault had not only created a deep-seated fear on Hermione's mind, but also by doing so, Draco had been successful in making her, a Gryffindor lioness, however subtly, to display her fear and distrust for men.
"I made something for you." Bill said with a kind smile as he walked in, carrying a dinner plate covered by a cloche. Draco was both surprised and suspicious. Men he knew couldn't be trusted with cooking. He remembered once making some salad for Astoria which she had gulped down only to not break her precious husband's heart. He sighed and turned his attention to Alexis next as he handed a large package to his mother.
"I bought everything you asked me to." he whispered into her ears and left with a tiny nod of acknowledgement at Hermione's direction. Draco noticed how his eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on her bump and the empty glass beside her. Focusing on Apolline again, he saw her taking out a box of common potion ingredients and strangely, two large packages of dried fruits, nuts, candied apricots and sugar plums.
"Here, Jean." she waved one of the packets at Hermione and drew her attention, leaving the potion ingredients on the bed. "I want you to take a handful of these with the breakfast. Okay?"
"Okay." Hermione nodded with a defeated sigh, "But aunt, I don't remember giving you any money to buy me those." She said abruptly.
"What money?" Bill asked once he settled down on the same spot as Draco had beside Hermione.
"Money, you know, galleons." Hermione replied curtly, seemingly eager to have the topic bypassed. "I gave aunt some money to buy me the potion ingredients."
"Why should you give maman money to buy potion ingredients?" Fleur joined her husband, astonished. "The Delacours have one of the oldest and largest apothecaries in entire France and you live with us, 'ermione."
"Well that doesn't mean I can't wish to buy something from your apothecary." Hermione retorted defensively, "Try to understand, Fleur, I am already taking so much favour from you. Food. Shelter. Medicine. I can't possibly take anymore."
"Favour?" Fleur repeated incredulously, standing up and waving her hand at the open trunk, "You are wearing my old uniforms, Jean. You sold your precious locket and bought these…" she pointed at the stack of old books, "…second hand books. You are going to return home every weekend to work in this state…" she glanced at Hermione's bump, "…and you call this taking my favour?"
"Please, Fleur!" Hermione pleaded, "It's my battle. Let me do it my way."
"You sound so much like Harry, 'ermione." Fleur said, shaking her head sadly, "When he said he doesn't want us to be involved that day at his aunt's home. Don't you see that that baby isn't yours only? It's ours too! Let us do something for him."
"Yes, Hermione, let them help you." Draco said calmly, his heart filled with a strange fondness for this extremely strong woman who wouldn't compromise with her self-esteem.
"Bill?" Hermione looked for support at the man sitting next to her, listening to the conversation silently. Draco wondered what he was going to comment.
"I think Hermione is right…" he said and paused, "…when she says that she can't take anyone's favours. Honestly, even I couldn't if I were in her place." He wrapped a comforting around Hermione's petit shoulder, "But Hermione, it's completely your fault if we are behaving this way." he said gently and she looked up at her, puzzled, "We learnt it from you. You see, you have set a certain standard when it comes to selfless sacrifice. You sacrificed your parents for Harry, a man whom you loved dearly as your friend. You stayed by his side when no one did, not even Ron. Now you are sacrificing them again for your baby."
"She even let go of her remaining family in England." Fleur added, looking sad, "Her grandma and aunt. She is not going back to them or having them brought here."
"Really?" Bill arched a gentle eyebrow and Hermione nodded with a sigh.
"Bill, please." She said, "I told Fleur that I didn't come to France out of one moment's impulsive decision. I can't live in England with my baby. I am Hermione Granger, Bill, Hermione Granger." she emphasized the name, "Also, I can't have my grandma or aunt brought down here. They have a comfortable life there. They can't possibly leave everything behind and come here to live with me. What will they do here? How am I going to support them? I can hardly support myself."
Draco contemplated on her words with care this time. Was it really that impossible for Hermione to bring her remaining family closer?
"Also if I bring them here what will happen to my parents?" Hermione continued, "I am sure my grandma will call them up in Australia and tell them to come here to find their only daughter pregnant from an assault, the very reason I didn't go to Australia and what Fleur told me to avoid. Bill, I don't want to hurt them anymore. They are better off without me or the knowledge that I exist."
"Fine, Hermione, I got it." Bill assured the distressed woman calmly, "It's okay if you don't want them to be brought down here but can we not be your new family? Like you were to Harry? Like you, he was alone too."
His careful words seemed to melt Hermione's heart for her features softened considerably. Bill seemed to perceive her silence well for he handed her the dinner plate. "To our new family." he made an unusual toast.
"What's this?" Hermione asked, eyeing the contents cautiously, once Bill removed the cloche and a plate full of steamy hot beans was revealed. "Please Bill, have mercy on me. I just had a whole glass of yogurt drink and can't eat any more. I feel sick and close to vomiting." She pleaded.
"You will like it." Bill said gently, offering Hermione a spoon, "I made it myself."
"Oh no, Bill! Not again!" Fleur glanced at the plate and threw her hands in the air in evident exasperation, "Please!"
"Why? What's it?" Apolline asked, alarmed by her daughter's reaction. She left the packing and examined the contents of plate with great care. Draco did the same. It was nothing but a bean stew. A few flakes of parsley were sprinkled on top and four quarter pieces of hardboiled eggs were adorning the periphery. Draco thought it looked pretty delicious for a man's cooking sample.
"That's the horrible Egyptian dish he likes to cook for breakfast!" Fleur replied with a disgruntled look, "Something called fool mendes." She settled on the bed and started packing Hermione's books.
"It's not fool mendes, Madame Fleur Weasley. It's Ful Medames and it is just wonderful." Bill protested with a dignified air. He turned to Hermione who was giving the dish an apprehensive stare, "It is the staple food of Egyptians. I learned it when I was working for Gringotts in Egypt. They eat it almost like every day in every meal; even the goblins like it. I thought you are bored with what you normally eat and so, made it for you." He smiled encouragingly at her.
"Yeah, she is bored of normal food and so she needs to be fed goblin food." Fleur curled her lips.
"It's not goblin food, Fleur, it's the Pharaoh's food." Bill countered solemnly, "It's an old saying in Egypt, that the beans have satisfied even the Pharoahs."
"Okay, stop now, Bill, Fleur." Hermione held up a hand, "Goblin food or not, I am taking it just because Bill made it personally for me." she took a spoonful and tasted it carefully. "It's good." She nodded and tasted more eagerly. "It's really good. The bean just melts in the mouth."
As an assured Apolline returned to her packing, Bill gave Fleur a knowing look which she dismissed by throwing her long silvery hair over the shoulder. Draco returned to his watching of Hermione eat. She was taking a small amount, blowing it cold slightly and eating it. It was a wonderful sight to see her enjoy something with pleasure. Internally, he thanked the pharaohs and Bill for his thoughtfulness.
"The Egyptians like to eat Ful Medames with their traditional bread." Bill said, noting Hermione's silent appetite, "It's very easy to cook too. Just soak some Fava beans for an hour or two. Then rinse it, add fresh water and cook over low heat for another two hours. Finished." He snapped his fingers, "If garnished with parsley and pieces of hardboiled egg, it is an excellent English equivalent of baked beans and fried eggs."
"Very light too." Apolline added approvingly, with a glare at her daughter's direction, "Most pregnant women don't like to eat heavy at these times. Their babies are already pressing on their stomachs. So that bean soup is a good alternative for them."
Upon her words, Hermione suddenly stopped eating and looked down at the now half empty plate. Draco leaned forward to see what disrupted her peaceful eating only to find her brooding over her food.
Looking up, he saw Apolline and Bill exchanging tense glances. Fleur gave them a questioning look as if trying to understand what was suddenly wrong.
"Hermione?" Bill gently placed a gently hand on her back and she looked at him with a small startle, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Hermione blinked several times, suggesting that she was trying to clear her head of the sudden thought she was having seconds ago, "It's just…" she paused, "I was wondering what subjects you took to build a career as a Curse Breaker, Bill?"
Draco was sure it was something else. Hermione was hiding her thoughts again.
"Nothing special, actually." Bill recovered the awkward silence and tried to appear normal, "The usual basic ones, you know. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. But you must be excellent in Ancient Runes because most of the scriptures are written in ancient languages."
"And Arithmancy?" Hermione took some bean soup and asked.
"That's a bonus if you have that in your N. E. W. T.s." Bill said, "Why, Hermione? Are you considering building a career in Curse Breaking?"
"I am considering it as a good option." Was Hermione's thoughtful reply.
"But that's a man's job." Bill supplied cautiously, seemingly not wanting to upset her. "I mean no offense but Curse Breaking is a man's job, Hermione, just as chopping woods are. I have never heard of a woman Curse Breaker."
"Then you are damn wrong, Weasley." Draco retorted proudly, forgetting his own words before the goblin Geccemp on his first ever visit to Gringotts. "As you speak, my wife Hermione Granger is going to break that norm and be the first woman Chief Curse Breaker of French Gringotts or any Gringotts on that matter."
"Who said that?" Hermione asked, her expression solemn but serious. The eating has stopped again. "Is it in the Wizarding Constitution or something, that women can't be Curse Breakers?"
"No, Hermione." Bill replied patiently, "It's not in the constitution. It's a common sense. Those cursed objects are extremely dangerous. If not handled correctly, the Curse Breaker may get cursed himself and die or worse be forced to live a crippled life. Most women have families and kids to look after. Imagine what will happen to them if they die suddenly or become paralyzed?"
Hermione didn't reply and went back to her food. Draco wondered what was playing inside her head.
"I don't think it's that. I think it is the same ridiculous dogma that is being circulated about women and their abilities for centuries." She said after a while, taking a bite from the egg, "Women are weak and dimwitted. Women can't be doctors, lawyers, judges, or Head of the State. They can't be allowed to rule. They have a family to look after. They can't possibly do jobs after they have babies. I have noticed how very few witches actually pursued their dreams after Hogwarts. Except for the female teachers, Susan Bones's mother Amelia Bones, and that horrible Umbridge, I have not seen anyone climb very high in their careers. Why?"
"I think it's a matter of choice, Hermione." Bill replied calmly, "Most ladies like to stay at home and raise their family. Even my mum did."
"I don't think so." Hermione countered, "My mother was a full time dentist as my father was. My grandma Sarah was a teacher. They didn't just sit down at home and while away their precious times, bringing up kids. It's not common sense Bill that wood chopping is a man's job, because it isn't. A Muggle writer, Somerset Maugham, once wrote that 'size doesn't matter for chopping woods.' Therefore, gender doesn't either. Your mother, Mrs. Weasley finished off that maniac Bellatrix when no one else could. She wasn't a dimwitted witch and yet she chose to pass her life either doing the laundry, or finishing household chores or cooking vast batches of food. I am not criticizing her or being judgmental here, Bill. I respect her decision to raise her family. But I am just curious to know what actually drives this Wizarding society. They treat the elves just as people once treated the Africans as slaves. They believe in the same pureblood supremacy as that tyrant Hitler did when World War two started. Has this society for which we all fought and many died, progressed at all?"
Her question met a deep silence as none of the Delacours or Bill replied. Draco wondered if he had the answers.
"I am getting tired of it." Hermione sighed, "I used to think that one day, I will do something to change these beliefs. Rufus Scrimgeour once asked me if I was planning to build a career in Wizarding Law Enforcement. I replied that I wanted to do something good to this world. But how? The place, this society is of full of people like Malfoys who buy justice, Umbridge who torture others in the name of justice, Rita who sells lies for money and pureblood families who secretly support Voldemort's agenda of a pureblood society. How many of those undead Voldemorts or unmasked Death Eaters can you or I or we can finish off, Bill? Before Voldemort there was Grindelwald. Before Grindelwald there was someone else. For Voldemort there was a Harry Potter. For Grindelwald there was an Albus Dumbledore. But how long? Be it women, elves, or pureblood supremacy, it's inside us. If we don't change ourselves I don't think even a million Harry Potters or a thousand Albus Dumbledore's ever can."
Draco didn't know Hermione's words caused others to think but on him, it ensued a thought that he had never considered. She spoke of the monster he had, its immense anger that had prompted him to rape her, twisted beliefs that made him to call her a Mudblood, and pride and arrogance that assured him that he was above all because he had money. Were they not mini Voldemorts in a sense? The actual mad might be dead now but his idea, his principles were still prevalent among his followers and beyond, be it women, elves or Muggleborn and until that idea changed nothing could be done. Hermione was right. Audré too. The darkness was inside him and not outside. The battle, therefore, should be internal and not external.
But was Draco ready for the big change? He had got rid of many of his own wrong beliefs but he still felt the presence of the old Draco inside him, dragging him back to the water as he tried to climb up the well, to Hermione.
"Should I reheat the beans for you?" Bill's question brought him out of his musings. Focusing his gaze, he saw Hermione's soup has cooled down while she had been talking. She nodded and Bill cast a Warming Charm as everyone went back to their previous preoccupations.
"So how do you go to Beauxbatons?" Bill asked Fleur with a deliberate wink that suggested he was eager to bypass the previous topic.
"It's by a hidden magical portal situated in Musee d'Orsay." Fleur deciphered the signal well and replied, "I told you, Bill, to improve your French." She said importantly, "Musee in French means Museum. Musee d'Orsay means the Orsay Museum. It was once a train station called Gare d'Orsay. The train to Beauxbatons used to leave for Toulouse from there. Toulouse is the capital city of Southwestern France, where Beauxbatons is situated in the Pyrenees." Bill nodded, conveying that he was listening to wife. "Everything was going on well but then the Muggle authorities suddenly decided to have the station renovated into a museum for arts and sculptures. The school couldn't possibly relocate their platform. It has been there for almost a century and the tracks were laid perfectly. So they made a clever plan and hid our portal to the platform behind a large oil painting of a train standing by a platform. It's called the Oil Painting number Twenty Three. You just have to walk through it to get to the train standing behind."
"Sound pretty interesting." Bill commented, as Hermione resumed eating her reheated beans. For some strange reason she neither continued on her previous topic nor showed any interest on the ongoing conversation. "Ours is through a wall between platform nine and ten in King's Cross station. Platform nine and three quarters."
Draco was certain no one heard the small sigh that left Hermione's chest. She was eating her beans with unusual appetite, listening to Bill and Fleur.
"And Beauxbatons express? It's a Luxury train with private cabins and en suite bathrooms and separate dining carriages." Fleur continued pompously, "It takes almost Twelve hours to reach Beauxbatons by train, Bill. So, the journey is made overnight. We boarded the train at eight o' clock on thirtieth August. We eat and sleep in the train as it takes us to the Pyrenees Mountains. On the morning of Thirty first, we reach Beauxbatons. Then we are given our rooms in our dormitories. There is a Grand Feast in the evening and the classes start from the next day, first of September."
"Our classes start from the second of September." Bill said, with a glance at silent Hermione. She, Draco noted, was not caring to join or comment on her new school. It struck him odd. She was always the kind who'd love to go to school, no matter what.
"And how are the dormitories?" Bill turned to his wife. "I heard you don't have any Houses there."
"No, we don't." Apolline replied this time. Draco suspected she did it on purpose so that the conversation didn't turn one sided. "Instead, we have three dormitories named after three great wizards and witches: Papillonlisse, Ombrelune and Bellefeuille. We call them Maisons. They are set among the three waterfalls that surround the school palace. Bellefuelle, the one Jean will be staying, is the most beautiful of them all. It's only for the Seventh year students. The women's wing has a Head called a Dame. Dame Peronélle is Jean's Maison head. The men's have a similar Head called a Master."
"It was so different at Hogwarts." Bill commented, "Wasn't it Hermione?" he asked her, "Be it boy or girl's dormitories, our Head of the House was a witch, Professor McGonagall. And we were Sorted into Houses at the start of term."
"Sorting is neither possible nor appreciated at Beauxbatons." Fleur said, "I saw your House tables when I was at Hogwarts for Triwizard Tournament. We used to sit with the Ravenclaws. But I think it's possible there because the Hogwarts student body is significantly smaller when compared to Beauxbatons. We have six countries that send their students to this one school. France, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Netherlands and Luxembourg." She counted them on fingers. "If they send even fifty new students each year, it's not possible to Sort three or four hundred students at the start of term."
His ear half on the ongoing conversation, Draco kneeled before Hermione. Why was she so silent? What was she thinking? Was she remembering her old Hogwarts days?
"What was the name of the girl Madame Maxime is arranging as my roommate?" she finally broke the silence and asked.
"Eva. Eva Bellamy." Fleur replied, sounding relieved that their small drama didn't go in vain and Hermione was talking again, "She has a twin brother. His name is Edmound. Dame Peronélle said that they are her nephew and niece."
Draco expected her to be happy with the news but strangely she was not. Hermione simply finished her food without another protest and asked Apolline if she could be excused from the supper. The elderly woman agreed to let her go with the promise to finish a glass of milk before bed. As Draco wondered what he had learned from this segment of the memory apart from Hermione's inner thoughts about her family and the Wizarding society, the scene shifted again.
He found himself standing on a vast crowded hall, its high roof made of arched glasses and its walls painted in intricate designs. A large clock could be seen in the vicinity, the hands currently at seven and four respectively. Around them beautiful sculptures and painting were artfully strewn across. Realizing where he was, Draco was reminded of his short trip to Musee d'Orsay with Julian. They were here the day he met Adrian at the Tuileries and he was absent-minded the whole time Julian gave him a tour of the place. Now looking around with interest, he saw a gigantic oil painting stretching from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. As stated by Fleur in the previous memory, a train was standing by a platform while the passengers on board and their families on the platform waved at each other. It had a number 23 etched on top of the gilded canvas. As an artist himself Draco had to admit that the painting was very well done, for even the tiniest detail was visible.
"Isn't it just wonderful?" Fleur's enthusiastic cries made him turn to his right and he noticed three ladies there: Fleur, Apolline and a third one, the 'Jean Granger' Hermione with her spectacles and hazel brown eyes full on, standing opposite the painting. Hermione was donning a very plain black dress and cloak, its hood over her head that hid her trimmed and straightened hair. Had Draco not known it was her and that she was pregnant, he would never have noticed her. She was not showing in any interest in her surrounding at all.
"Papa has dropped Gabrielle in her carriage. I came with her trolley." Alexis's voice broke Draco's deep contemplation. Turning around he saw a pair of men, Bill and his brother-in-law, the latter pushing a trolley. People were giving curious glances at Bill's direction, which he was ignoring with a very dignified demeanor.
"So how do you come home for weekends?" he asked his wife, holding one side of Hermione's trunk and lifting it up. Alexis did the same with the other side. "By a twelve hour train ride?" he smirked.
"Oh no, Bill!" Fleur snapped, "The Beauxbatons know that it is not possible." She said loftily. She seemed extremely sensitive about the good reputation of her school. "We use Floo. It's easy and less time consuming. Every household that has a Beauxbatons student in it is connected to the school's Grand Floo network."
"And the Beauxbatons Floo is completely separate from the Ministry Floo." Alexis added solemnly. Together the men heaved Hermione's trunk on the trolley and wheeled it around. "I heard that Gringotts have their own Floo for the Curse Breakers."
"Only the Chief Curse Breaker receives that privilege, Alexis, an entire Floo for his own personal use." Bill replied, "The goblins are very narrow-minded when it comes to giving us facilities."
His words had a profound effect on Draco who remembered how Geccemp had defended his precious Chief Curse Breaker for being a successful woman in a male dominated field. Only a hardworking witch like Hermione Granger could attain that position, he was certain of that. He focused his gaze on her again. Fleur was reminiscing about her old school days to a very silent and lost looking Hermione when the men pushed the trolley forward, silently ushering the ladies to join them. Hermione was the last on line, just before Bill and next to Alexis as she crossed the magical barrier of the enchanted oil painting. Following her, Draco stepped on the platform too.
A magnificent view greeted him. Fleur hadn't been extravagant when describing the Beauxbatons Express for it was indeed a luxury train. Golden designs of two crossed wands inside an intricately woven garland of flowers were plastered on the royal blue streamline and glowing carriage bodies. Through the windows, where the shutters were still open, Draco could see a rich interior. The elegant black engine was puffing out smokes. With six times more students to carry, it was twice wider than Hogwarts Express.
"Bellefueilles have an entire carriage of their own." Fleur declared proudly, "'ermione…sorry..." she bit her tongue and winced, "Jean, what's the name written on your ticket?"
"Côte d'Azur." Hermione replied nonchalantly, watching the crowd as they walked past their group. Apolline and Alexis had both her sides covered and Draco knew why. They remembered the incident at Gare du Nord, when a moron had bumped into Hermione, almost throwing her on the station floor.
"That's the name of the carriage you will be travelling." Fleur smiled, her eyes lighting up, "Let's go and find it."
As the small group made their way through the labyrinth of a jostling crowd with Bill occasionally taunting his sensitive wife over tiny details of Beauxbatons, Draco took care to walk beside his own wife, Hermione, watching her expression with great care.
Most of the time, her eyes were downcast as if she was trying to avoid seeing something unpleasant. But she would look up for a second or two, whenever they passed students whose parents were kissing them goodbye or friend circles who were laughing together. It was strangely touching, the way she was observing at them with a barely hidden tinge of pain. Draco thought he could understand what was going inside her mind; she was missing her friends and family.
The said carriage, Côte d'Azur, was almost at the tail end of the train and finally reaching there, he scanned Hermione's face for any signs of physical exertion from prolonged walking. But except for the concealed torment and an internal battle, there was nothing on those innocent yet beautiful features.
"You go inside and put the trunk in her cabin at number 2A." Fleur checked Hermione's ticket and demonstrated to her husband and brother, "We'll wait for Eva Bellamy. Madame Maxime said that she'll have her sent here, before the carriage." The men nodded and unloaded the trunk from the trolley.
Draco stood by Hermione as she rearranged her cloak over the bump, hiding it completely. A few curious onlookers were giving the pair of Veelas fascinated looks.
"What's the time?" Apolline asked her daughter who replied that it was half past seven. She was scanning the crowd when a pretty witch, clad in a stunningly beautiful and expensive robe, walked past Hermione with a disdainful look at her direction.
"I don't understand why they allow these beggars at Beauxbatons." She said to her friend, loudly enough to ensure that it reached Hermione. The said friend, a cachexic girl hanging like a flimsy doll from a robust man's arm, laughed.
"Oh, Rebekah!" she cried, "You shouldn't be so severe. After all, the 'big bones' Maxime gives us some entertainment to pass our times." She blew over her nails, as if drying the shocking pink nail polish. "If not those juicy gossips, I would be bored to death."
"Whatever." The robe clad Rebekah shrugged and wrinkled her nose as if Hermione was a smelly object. "Disgusting!" she mimed vomiting.
Whether Hermione heard them talk about her or not, Draco didn't know. His hands were fisted now. "Filthy little bitch! Do you even know who she is? Mrs. Draco Malfoy and the Malfoys don't even wipe their asses on piggy faces like yours." He spat with the same vehement arrogance he used when insulting Hermione at Hogwarts. Hermione and her companion Veelas, however, were completely silent.
They waited for another two minutes. Apolline checked the time impatiently again. "Where is this girl…" she couldn't finish the sentence when a young woman pushed the crowd aside and came out into the small clearing before the Delacours.
"Bonjour!" Eva's pale, freckled face was glistening from sweat and the gaze of her deep blue eyes was running from Fleur to Apolline to Hermione. Draco noted how it scanned their silvery hair to make sure they were Veelas before finally resting on Hermione's almost invisible bump.
"Bellamy?" Apolline enquired cautiously and Eva nodded, "Delacour?" she enquired back.
Fleur nodded with a smile, "Madame Maxime told us to meet you here." She said, checking the watch.
"I am sorry for keeping you lot waiting." Eva said, "My brother was…" she pursed lips, came forward and extended a hand at Hermione. "I believe we need to be introduced formally. My name is Eva Bellamy."
Hermione took the hand and shook it. "Jean Granger." she said over their joined hands.
Bill and Alexis chose that moment to come down from the train. As always Alexis was on very plain attires. Apolline was talking to Eva about Hermione's condition when a loud squeal silenced everyone in the vicinity.
"Look!" Rebekah's cachexic friend cried, pointing rudely at Bill's direction, "How ugly!"
Following her words, Rebekah and her friend's robust escort, both looked at Bill. He didn't comment but Fleur flared up at once.
Draco had never really seen to how Veelas charmed men but today he witnessed their enchantments. Upon the flimsy girl's exclaim, Fleur erected her spine, drew herself into her full height and with a proud prowling gait that rivaled even the most stylish of cats, she walked to the robust man.
"Care for a kiss?" she threw her silvery cascade over the shoulder and asked him. The robust man was gaping at Fleur, his eyes unfocused and stupid when he nodded.
"Yes." he replied breathlessly, leaning forward, evidently reaching for her lips.
"I don't think so." Fleur gave him a charming smile. "Kneel." She commanded and the man knelt down like a slave completely under spell. "Kiss." She offered him her left feet.
"NO!" Rebekah and her friend exclaimed as they finally realized what was happening. The entire crowd watched as the robust man's lips were inches from touching Fleur's feet when she kicked him aside.
"Salope!" (Bitch!) Rebekah's hand was in the air when Fleur caught it gracefully, twisted and threw it aside like a dead twig.
"Weasley. Fleur Delacour Weasley." she snapped her fingers thrice before her nose and said, gritting her teeth, "If you and your bloody gang don't apologize to my husband right now, I'll make sure that none of you ever board that train."
"Fleur, no!" Bill said, trying to restrain his wife but she held a hand in the air, asking him to not interrupt. Alexis tried to come forward but Apolline stopped him. "No, Alexis. It's a matter of honour." she said solemnly, holding him back. "Veelas won't tolerate it if anyone insults their husbands.'
As a staring contest followed, with both witches trying burn each other on the spot, Draco's attention was caught by a man standing just beside the still confused looking robust man, staring at Hermione unblinkingly.
If they were eyes and that was a gaze, Draco wondered what Voldemort's was when he looked at his followers intensely. This grey pair was even sharper than those red pairs and as Draco watched, his heart slowly filling with an ominous feeling, they roved down Hermione's entire form, as if swallowing her, licking and tasting her delicate skin with it. Draco has seen many men ogling at women but none had been so tasteless and vulgar.
Unbeknownst to himself, he shifted sideways, trying to cover Hermione's form behind his, only to remember that it was a memory and he could do nothing to protect her. He turned back to look at her. It seemed that she has also sensed something odd for she scanned the crowd, spotted the intense gaze on her and wrapped her plain black cloak over her body more securely.
"Fleur Delacour! That's the Beauxbatons champion!" Rebekah's flimsy friend blinked in amazement and shook her friend. It seemed she has forgotten that her boyfriend was insulted in public by that very witch.
"Beauxbatons champion!"
"I heard she got a medal from the Ministry for bravery during the war in Britain! It was in the newspapers!"
"I heard she got a medal from the British Ministry too!"
As the excited crowd talked and some even came forward to have a better look at Fleur, she arched a silent eyebrow at Rebekah, demanding apology. The latter witch intensified her gaze and flared her nostrils once before finally turning to Bill and apologizing on behalf of her gang.
"My apologies, Monsieur." She said stiffly, "But your wife shouldn't have insulted my cousin in public."
Fleur was going to retaliate like an angry oxen when Bill held his hands, "It's alright. I am fine. But you also should not have tried to slap my wife in public." He said calmly and ushered his wife to join him. "Come Fleur, let's see off your cousin." he beckoned her and turned to a silent Hermione.
As she boarded the train and disappeared inside, Draco checked on the leery eyed man. He found him still gazing at Hermione's retreating form with a mysterious smirk when the memory blended into nothingness.
He felt a gnawing and suffocating sense of unease when the scene appeared again but astonishingly, it was not inside Beauxbatons Express. He was standing on his uncle's study. Distracted and wondering what went wrong in the flawless stream of memories, he tried to feel his surrounding and heard two people as they talked. They were Audré and Eva.
"Madame, after our last conversation about you giving Jean some therapies, I talked to Madame Delacour too." Eva was telling Audré. The elderly witch was occupying her husband's old seat behind the desk and listening to Eva with rapt attention, "She told me that she has given you some memories and the therapy is already underway."
"It is." Audré nodded in acknowledgement, "Apolline did gave me her memories of Jean's third, fourth and fifth monthes of pregnancy. They were about her early days in France and contained invaluable information on her past and hardships."
"I see." Eva said thoughtfully, "I met Jean last Monday, during a tea party that Madame Delacour arranged to celebrate Alexis's promotion. She didn't tell me anything about the therapies of course and considering the fact that it's Jean, that's a completely normal behaviour." She rubbed her forehead wearily, "Madame, I have noticed how she is always so lost and upset since she got married to that bas…" she closed her eyes and cleared her throat, "…pardon, Madame, but I just can't stand the thought of that rapist destroying Jean's life. He tormented her so much! Physically, mentally, spiritually!"
"I understand your pain, Eva." Audré commented patiently. "I really do. I am a woman too."
Eva sighed. "When I asked Madame Delacour about Jean, she said that my friend is worried that her son isn't getting a healthy environment to grow up. Adrian is her life's work, you know, Madame and that Malfoy is up to destroy him." Eva seemed honestly concerned.
Even with the stream of unpleasant remarks on him, Draco sighed in relief and came to stand beside the desk. No, he was still inside the Pensieve and nothing was wrong. Audré had given him the memory of her extraction of Eva's memories. He appreciated her efforts, for it made everything more detailed. He also noted how none of the witches cared to mention his involvement in retrieving the memories; both were talking as if Draco Malfoy's voluntary participation in that werewolf facility was nothing. As he listened, Draco wondered what Hermione meant by 'unhealthy environment' in which Adrian was growing up. He was eager to find out more of it.
"Are the therapies working?" Eva asked Audré with sincere care for her friend, "What kind of therapy are they?"
"They are…" Audré joined the tip of her finger and frowned, "…almost like hypnotherapy. I put Jean in deep sleep and she dreams that her parents are here. She just talks to them and relieves her inner self. Like in our last time, we were in a dark forest in a stormy night and Jean was stuck in a quicksand when she was rescued and encouraged by her mother to speak her mind. It helped her greatly. She felt very fresh the following morning."
"But is talking enough?" Eva asked and bit her lip nervously, "Pardon moi, Madame, I am not being doubtful but is talking, only talking, enough to help her heal from her traumas? Can we do something more?"
"We can but I don't think it will be anyway more effective than what she is already receiving." Audré replied confidently, "My dear young lady, don't underestimate the power of words for they are the biggest and most powerful mean by which we communicate. Imagine yourself, gagged and tied up when something terrible happened to you. What will you do first when someone removed your mouth-gag?"
"I'll scream." Eva replied immediately. "As loud as I can."
"That's what Jean is doing too, Eva, screaming her heart out and telling her parents what she couldn't all these days." Audré said patiently and Eva nodded, finally getting the point. "After she talks about it, she feels that a burden is removed from over heart and that brings a great deal of relief." She smiled, "But don't think that these therapies are easy to give just because it involves talking only. Human beings are the only creation in this universe that doesn't readily speak their minds." She held a finger in the air cautiously, "I can assure you, dear, from my experience in the field of Law for last thirty years, that most people lie completely unnecessarily. In order to bring out the truth, you'll have to manipulate them and that's what I do here too, manipulating Jean into expressing herself."
"I understand now." Eva said and smiled for the first time, "I told you previously, Madame, that my Beauxbatons memories of Jean's pregnancy are not very pleasant. You have been there yourself; you know that Beauxbatons is almost like any other school. There is Quidditch rivalry, jealousy among girls and teenage affairs. But when Jean fell prey to unhealthy curiosity regarding her pregnancy and baby, I didn't like it at all. In my opinion, a responsible woman, someone who has her career planned and wishes get there, takes care to have her baby when she is ready for it. Even I have a boyfriend, Dominique is his name. We have been together for quite a while now and he wishes to marry me but I told him that am not ready for it. Right now, I need to concentrate on the goals that I made for myself. Marriage and babies can wait for later."
"Dominique?" Audré's trademark enigmatic smile was back, "What's his full name?"
"Dominique Tricaud." Eva replied, seemingly taken aback, "He is studying Law at Sorbonne, in the same class, I believe, as your nephew. Why Madame? Do you know him?"
Draco winced internally as Audré shook her head. He knew she was going to get back to him later for this. "No, dear. I don't. That name is pretty common so I thought I might know him." Audré replied with a smile. "But tell me, dear, are you not uncomfortable that your boyfriend studies with my nephew?"
Draco found himself greatly interested to know the answer from Eva's own lips.
"Of course, not. My Dominique doesn't mix with his kind, Madame, the proud and arrogant." she replied confidently.
Draco snorted in amusement. If this woman only knew what Dominique had done for him? He decided to discuss the topic with his friend in detail later.
"You were telling me something about women and career." Audré returned to the previous topic, "Pray continue."
Eva nodded. "26th August 1998. I still remember the date because Madame Maxime scared the living daylight of me with her one letter. My O. W. L. s was over and I was on a holiday at my uncle's place when I received an official Beauxbatons letter asking me to see my Headmistress straightaway. My first thought was that I had failed. I immediately returned home, used the Floo and went to Beauxbatons. When we met at her office, Madame Maxime was sitting with my father's sister, the then Dame of Bellefeuille Maison, aunt Peronélle. Nostradamus, Madame!" she clutched over her heart, "When I saw her, I thought that I had surely failed in all the subjects. I felt like crying when Madame Maxime told me to sit down and prepare myself. I was like, 'please tell me that I haven't failed!'" she cried.
Audré laughed, "Yes, Olympe has that crooked sense of humour when it comes to dealing with the students. Continue."
Eva sighed in relief. "Thankfully, I didn't fail. I knew I couldn't. I was the top of my class." She smiled, "The real reason why they called me was something different, something that I haven't expected." Her features became grave again, "Madame Maxime told me that a British witch by the name of Jean Granger would be attending Beauxbatons this year and that she is…unmarried and pregnant." she bit her lips as if it wasn't Audré but Madame Maxime she was talking to, "We have never had a pregnant witch during my time at Beauxbatons. Most girls who had serious affairs took precautions to not fall pregnant. So, you must understand what I felt like when I was told that Jean was going to be my roommate for my final and most important school year."
"I do." Audré nodded, "You took her as a foolish girl who didn't know how to use a contraception charm or someone who didn't have an ambition or plan for life. Right?"
"Yes." Eva admitted bitterly, "I told you Madame, I am very serious when it comes to my dreams and careers. So, I wanted someone who shared the same beliefs as me as my roommate. I mean, I am not judgmental; everyone has the right to do what suits them well. But I was resentful when I was chosen as Jean's roommate. I needed to study peacefully and here she was, a pregnant woman. Nostradamus knows what she was like!"
"So what was she like actually?" Audré asked, leaning forward in interest. Draco, who had been listening to the whole conversation without any complaints, wondered the same too.
"Better than I ever was." Eva replied with a smile. There was a tinge of pride in her voice as she spoke. "Jean was the best roommate I ever had. She was studious, very regular, patient, and caring. And she loved her baby. I have never seen a woman love her baby so much! We had good understanding from the very beginning and soon we became friends. Our first meeting was in the Beauxbatons Express. Madame Maxime had told me that Jean would be there with her aunt's family. We journeyed together and were given room number 714 at Bellefeuille Maison." She paused, "I'll not spoil the memories by telling them here, Madame. I want you to see them by yourself. Therapy or not, these memories are very special to me. Very special."
"I know." Audré nodded solemnly and handed Eva a small phial. Draco watched as she withdrew a thick string of memory from her temple and poured it into the container. He assumed that those memories were next and surely enough when the scene dissolved and reappeared, he found himself inside a carriage.
It was perhaps the most beautiful train cabin he had ever set his eyes upon. As spacious as a small bedroom, the walls were of gleaming and polished mahogany and watermark of golden Beauxbatons emblem. A plush tapestry was half concealing the window, outside which the darkness of the night was visible. Two comfortable looking banquette style sofas were placed along the walls, both used as beds now by their respective occupants, Hermione and Eva. There was a small nightstand between their beds, upon which a fruit bowl, a glass of water and a table lamp was placed.
As soon as his eyes accustomed itself to the low light of the environment, Draco proceeded to examine Hermione from up close. She was lying on her left side, fast asleep, with her plain black cloak still covering her bump protectively.
Ever since the first batch of memories, Draco always loved to see Hermione when she sleeps. She was strangely peaceful at that time, and it gave him ample opportunity to appreciate her delicate and beautiful features unhindered.
In this memory, however, Hermione was far from being peaceful. Her forehead was sweaty and she was talking slightly in her sleep. Draco brought his ears closer and noticed as Eva, the woman he had completely forgotten, mirrored him too.
"…no…no…please…" Hermione was pleading and Draco's blood froze in his veins.
Was Hermione having a nightmare about her rape? In the train? But why? Draco knew that she had been silent but there was no indication that she was brooding over that traumatic event. He gulped anxiously when he heard Eva's uncertain whisper called Hermione.
"Granger? Granger?"
Draco glanced at her. Eva looked close to demented, her face white and her lips red from all the nervous biting.
"…no…please…" Hermione moaned in her dream again.
"Granger?" Eva was going to poke Hermione when suddenly the door of the cabin burst open.
"Eva! Look what I found!"
It was Edmound. Startled and their nerves frayed, both Eva and Draco jumped and swore loudly. Hermione, however, screamed and sat bolt upright. Her eyes fell on what the intruder was holding. It looked like a small snake with grey and yellow zigzag pattern, its beady and slit less eyes gleaming in the low light like black pearls.
"Aaarghhhh…." Hermione screamed the loudest this time, her right hand over her bump and the left clutching on her chest. Furious and fuming, Draco was close to kicking Edmound for frightening her when Eva finally took control and directed a firm index at the door, through which a few curious students were peeping in.
"OUT!" she bellowed at Edmound, "NOW!"
But no one moved. Everyone's eyes, including Edmound's, were glued to Hermione and more particularly at her bump for her robe has fallen off and it was clearly visible.
"Look, a pregnant girl!"
"Nostradamus! A pregnant student at Beauxbatons!"
"Where is her husband?"
"How far is she? The bump looks quite big."
"What is she doing here in that state? She should be at home."
"Isn't she the girl who came with Fleur Delacour? Why did they leave her alone?"
Within a moment's notice, the crowd expanded like Doxies on dirt with everyone asking the same questions: where was Hermione's husband and why she was in Beauxbatons Express.
"Let me see! Let me see! What's happened?" it was Rebekah's flimsy friend's loud squeak as she jostled and pushed herself forward through the crowd. "Merde! (Shit!)" she exclaimed and clapped over her open mouth as soon as her eyes rested on Hermione's protruding bump.
"Thanks Edmound!" Eva cast a venomous look at her brother. He was still standing like a statue, holding the snake and his mouth half open when she caught him by his scruffs, threw him out of her cabin and slammed the door closed on the faces of the curious onlookers.
"I apologize on behalf of my brother." She said, slumping on her banquette seat-turned-bed, very red on her face. Hermione was still very white and trembling. Draco instinctively reached for the glass of water but to his extreme dismay, his hand passed through it.
"AHHHH!" he kicked the nightstand but his foot passed through it too. Defeated he collapsed on the floor, his face hidden behind his hands.
What has he done! What has he done! What has he done!
Merlin! What has he done!
If those words were hurting him so much when they were not directed at him, he couldn't imagine how it must have hurt Hermione.
He heard footfalls as she ran into the en-suite bathroom. Next moment, loud retching sounds were carried to him. She was vomiting.
Someone was insistently pounding on the door and Draco looked up, too overwhelmed to actually think properly. He watched as Eva stood up, drew herself to her full height, went to the door and opened it.
The robe clad Rebekah was standing on the threshold, her eyes gleaming with what looked like maniacal pleasure. Her flimsy friend was peeping eagerly over her shoulder, scanning the cabin beyond Eva for signs of Hermione.
"What?" Eva almost barked at her.
Rebekah looked close to going to heaven. "I heard that that Veela Delacour's pregnant cousin is staying with you. I just came by to ask why her husband isn't accompanying her. It's a long journey and she might need him on the way. After all, Beauxbatons does have provisions to have a witch travel with her husband if she is pregnant."
"Are you her husband?" Eva's question threw both Draco and Rebekah off guard.
"Pardon?" she arched an eyebrow.
"If you are not her husband, Rebekah, it's none of your business to enquire as to why she isn't travelling with hers." Eva said through gritted teeth. Draco felt like hugging her for defending Hermione. "I am warning everyone here." She roughly pushed Rebekah aside and went out in the corridor. Draco followed him too, feeling jubilant, "If I see anyone knocking on my door, or disturbing me or my companion in any way, I'll go straight to Madame Maxime the moment I reach Beauxbatons." She warned the silent crowd, "Jean Granger comes from Britain with very high recommendations." Her voice was loud enough to get carried to the entire corridor, "She is a war veteran there and after her family and her fiancé died in the war, she came here to finish her studies. She is also Fleur Delacour's cousin who received two medals of bravery both from Britain and France. Madame Maxime told me to report to her directly, if anyone even dared to…" she held a firm index in the air, "…look at Granger the wrong way. Understood?"
"Yes!" Draco punched in the air, as if he has just caught a very difficult and alluring Snitch. "Now get the hell out of here, dickheads!"
The 'dickheads' did clear off but certainly not upon his words. Rebekah scoffed loudly and lifted her plush robe before stalking out. The others talked among themselves and returned to their cabins. Rebekah's flimsy friend was still trying to have a good look into Eva's cabin when she walked in and slammed the door on her face.
Once inside, Draco found Hermione coming out of the bathroom, looking slightly green and wiping her mouth on a piece of tissue.
"Relax Granger." Eva assured her, offering her a glass of water. "Here."
Hermione sat on the bed and took the glass from Eva with a small word of thanks. She drank the water silently as Draco settled beside Eva, eyeing her with utmost caution.
"Feeling better now?" Eva gently asked Hermione nodded, finishing the water. She placed the empty glass on the nightstand, lied down, wrapped the comforter around her form and closed her eyes.
The last thing Draco thought before the scene vanished was a silent prayer for Hermione she didn't have another nightmare again.
To be continued…