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.

83. Chapter 83

A/N: Thanks to Grovek26 and SereniteRose for their reviews on last chapters. Thanks everyone for the favourites and follows.

*** We are one chapter away from the end of memories. Every piece of memory here says something, which will be explained more in the therapy chapter. They were planned with care and in accordance with the characters.

Well, that's all and you can leave your feedback if you like.

This chapter is rated M, as always. Draco is pretty much back to his own self.

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 83: Grape of Wrath (Part 4/4)

Draco Malfoy, the last but one heir of the Malfoy Empire, had traveled to many fascinating places with his father during the summer. Lucius loved both to show-off and be in possession of everything that had a dark past and grandeur by its name. His son also prided on his father's choices and achievements. They were Malfoys after all.

Draco, a man of twenty four now, his first wife and three sons dead and under the growing and suffocating burden of endless mistakes and an unspeakable crime, wondered if that past was a life at all. True that he has traveled and met rich and sophisticated people but what has he learned from them that he didn't learn from these memories? Courage? Kindness? Love? Compassion? Care? What actually? Hadn't He just witnessed what his one act, one moment's wrath has caused: a fruit in an innocent womb and nightmare during a journey that was supposed to be a pleasant one in a luxury train as the Beauxbatons Express.

When the next scene appeared, Draco was still sitting on the ground, his heart and head filled with one sentence: he did this to her and only he, was accountable for all her pains. Him and only him.

The room, however, which he could not help but notice after five minutes of absentminded and vacant staring into the thin air, was the most unique of all the places he had ever been. The aura was strangely peaceful and broke his string of dark thoughts. Slowly, he stood up and looked around. So this was Hermione's room in Beauxbatons!

The first thing he noted was the shape. Hermione's room was circular and made of what looked like some kind of granite that was emanating a natural glow. The walls encircled an area twice as spacious as his bedroom in the Malfoy Manor. But that was not all, that was just the beginning.

In the center of the round room, a tree, an actual tree, its trunk as wide as an elephant's body and with many tangled branches, was growing out from the floor! Draco blinked. He didn't know what sort of magic allowed a tree to grow inside a room. The Slytherin common room being in the dungeon was completely bare on that matter but he was sure that even the Hufflepuffs didn't have the privilege to have an entire tree in their common room and their Head of House was Pomona Sprout.

Wary, he rubbed his eyes. Was he hallucinating? Has he finally lost his mind from extreme guilt?

But when he looked again, the tree was still there, standing proudly, as if silently demanding from Draco what was he was doing in its territory.

To make sure, he walked to it and placed his hand on the smooth and glowing bark. His fingers passed through it. No, he was not hallucinating. This indeed was a memory.

Greatly interested now, Draco walked around the tree. It had many small hollows in its trunk, now being used as book nooks. He recognizied some of them as the second hand ones Hermione had bought. So the tree was a bookshelf. But did it have other purposes? His eyes automatically went up the branches and beyond. The canopy of thick green foliages was spreading out like a giant umbrella and acting like a natural roof over the granite made circular room which had no actual ceiling of its own.

Draco snorted. How very strange! He proceeded to discover more about the fascinating place.

He found them soon. Other than a door in the floor, two large windows and an arched opening that Draco guessed was the entryway to girl's bathroom, there were two large alcoves in the tree bearing room, each containing a bed along the long axis wall. The bed stands were one of a kind even for Draco's high Malfoy standards. The mattress, pillows and the comforter was supported on a piece of board with four small trees as four posters. Again, its green leaves acted like a natural canopy. The bed beckoned him to snuggle under the generous bounty of its linens. A thin curtain of glimmering white silk was hanging before the opening of the alcove, offering modest but stylish privacy for the occupant of the bed.

Two writing desks with two comfortable looking chairs, a large armoire which Draco thought was the closet and a spacious divan were the rest of the furniture. Every single piece was made of intricately patterned wood. An earthly and old-world feel was cast by Terra cotta tiles covering the floor. The air was fragrant with the scent of rosemary. The ambient light was provided by not candles but by thousands of fireflies, slowly moving around the mother tree like a whirlpool of golden stars. Their light cast a green glow over the place but it wasn't sinister as the green lights Draco had in the Slytherin Common Room.

Draco pouted his lips and arched an eyebrow. He was impressed; and everyone knew how very difficult it was to impress a Malfoy even if he was a modest one.

A sound of running water brought him to senses and he followed it silently. The memory, he suddenly noticed, was exceptionally quiet. As he reached a door and the balcony beyond, a breathtaking scene stole his mind.

Hermione was standing by a vine covered balustrade and looking at the waterfalls that gracefully arced down below, with a layer of deep mist hanging over them. Outside, the darkness was slowly falling under the growing moon and against its enchanting backdrop, a plain white gown clad pregnant Hermione Granger, her head slightly tilted on right, looked like an angel just short of her wings. Draco gaped at her in wonderment. She was beautiful! She was simple but the most beautiful woman of all! And he had hurt her! Hurt her? How could he do that?

His uplifted mood took a dark turn immediately. It seemed as if there was no respite from this extreme guilt that gnawed inside and ate him every moment.

"Do you like the view?" Eva's question broke the mystic silence. Looking around, Draco found the original owner of the memories sitting on a couch and watching Hermione with mild curiosity.

"Who wouldn't love this view?" Hermione asked back and turned to Eva with a smile. Like most of the smiles in this memory, it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Beauxbatons really is a beautiful place. Cousin Fleur didn't exaggerate at all."

"How is she related to you?" Eva asked, leaning forward slightly and ushering Hermione to sit on the seat next to her. "I hope you won't mind if we talked a bit before the Grand Feast."

"Not at all." Hermione replied with the same fake smile. She took the offered seat and turned her gaze back to the waterfalls. "Uncle Gustave is my mum's distant cousin. My grandma was a French noblewoman. Her name was Jean Créquy."

"Créquy?" Eva sat up straight and repeated. That surname, like many others, has stirred her curiosity too. "Is your mother…pardon…was she anyway related to Monsieur Francois Créquy?"

Draco, coming to a stand before the pair, his eyes for Hermione only, noticed how the change of tense from present to past while referring to Hermione's mother, momentarily changed her peaceful demeanor to pure agony.

"She was his youngest son, Nicolas Créquy's descendent." Hermione replied, overcoming her emotion. "I am sorry, I don't know much about their entire family tree but Gustave Delacour is my uncle and his children are my cousins, this much I am sure of."

"Thanks Nostradamus!" Eva sighed in evident relief, "I thought you were part Veela too. But then I noticed that you don't have that silvery hair." She eyed Hermione's 'Jean Granger' makeover hairs. Draco thought she was being foolish. Even in her shabbiest state, Hermione was more beautiful than any Veela ever could be.

"Now…now…Granger, please don't think that I am being disrespectful to their race." Eva said, eyeing Hermione with great caution. She, on the other hand, sat silently. "I am just not comfortable with women who are very comfortable with men. Any women on that matter, not just the Veelas." She explained, "But Fleur Delacour is our national Pride. She brought our school great honour and from I have learned, she was a very good student herself."

Hermione only nodded in response to Eva's words, still silently watching the waterfall.

"So, how many O's did you get in your O. W. L.?" Eva asked her new roommate, evidently trying to learn more about her. "I heard that they take that exam at the end of fifth year at Hogwarts."

"They do." Hermione's sigh was so deep that Draco thought it punctures a hole into his heart. "Nine." She replied curtly.

"Nine?" Eva was clearly incredulous. She glanced at Hermione's bump, looking confused and skeptic. Draco remembered her words to Audré on her presumptions about Hermione and her pregnancy, that ambitious women never fall pregnant unplanned. "How many subjects did you sit for?" She asked next.

"Ten." Hermione replied, her features lost as ever. "Twelve actually when I started my Third Year. But then I dropped Divination and Muggle Studies. That brought it down to ten."

"But how would you attend twelve subjects in a week?" Eva, it seemed still wasn't satisfied with the answers she received. "I mean, it's a bit outrageous, isn't it?"

Hermione didn't reply for a while. Her eyes were unfocused and her features most impassive when she spoke at last. "Have you heard of Time Turners?"

"I have." Eva replied, blinking rapidly.

"Our deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall gave me one before the start of term on my Third Year." Hermione actually looked sad as she reminisced. "She told me that she had to write to a lot of people and assure them that I was an ideal student and wouldn't use it except for study purpose. I used it for a whole year to get to all my classes but in the end dropped Divination and Muggle Studies. The pressure of twelve subjects and operating that Time Turner was too much for me. The only subject that I had an 'E' was Defense Against the Dark Arts." She rubbed her eyes, whether it was tear or tiredness Draco didn't know nor did he care. He has just come across a fabulous piece of information about Hermione Granger. She used a Time Turner in her Third Year to attend all the classes and she brewed a Polyjuice Potion in her second year to interrogate him about the heir of Slytherin. Merlin! And he thought he was better than her? How extremely ignorant and condescending!

Eva's mouth was still hanging open when Hermione turned to her.

"Bellamy, we are roommates now so let's be honest. I know you didn't tell me this but I felt that you didn't like the idea of being a pregnant woman's roommate." She said plainly. "I don't blame you. Honestly. Even I wouldn't like it, if I were in your place. It's my final year and I need to study without any disturbances." She looked down at her bump, "But I assure you that I'll not disturb you with my problems, be it physical or emotional. I hope that what happened in the train will not happen here again and we'll be able to share this room and study in peace together."

Eva blinked, evidently to overcome her surprise and embarrassment to those honest words. "No, Granger, I didn't think it! Really!" She cried and shook her head, her face red from discomfort, "Listen, I have no complaints about you being my roommate. Okay?" she held up her hands in the air, "In fact I am happy that I…have a new roommate…one who hasn't been to Beauxbatons before. That way I can learn new things from you."

"Liar, liar!" Draco shook his head and tsk'ed. "That's not what you thought when you were told that my Hermione was going to be your roommate. You thought she would be a nuisance on your way to glory."

"I am glad to hear that." Hermione said, her smile small but true this time. "I hope we'll have a nice time together."

"I hope so too." Eva said happily and stood up. "Come. Let's go and get ready for the Grand Feast. It'll start in half an hour."

Hermione eyed Eva evenly. "Is it obligatory for the students to attend the Grand Feast?" She asked, looking very reluctant. "I mean I would love to go but I am not feeling well." She rubbed her bump. Draco frowned. The morning sickness he knew was a first trimester symptom.

"Is it the vomiting attack again?" Eva asked, slightly concerned. "Should I call the hospital matron?"

"No…no. It's not that." Hermione stopped her. "It's just that I can't tolerate the smell of food…you know…" she gulped as if beating down a bout of nausea. "Can I be excused? Should I talk to Dame personally?"

"Oh, no, It's alright." Eva assured Hermione. "I'll tell that to her on your behalf. I am your roommate." She said happily. "She already knows that you fell ill in the train. She'll understand. Besides, I don't think that you'll actually enjoy the Feast. They give the O. W. L results after the Feast and if you don't know the students or have any friends there, it will be a pretty boring affair for you. I think it'll be better if you take your supper here and go to bed early. We have new classes from tomorrow."

Hermione nodded and smiled. Eva was about to leave when she called her back. "Bellamy, are you not nervous? They are going to give your results tonight, before everyone and here you are, chatting with me."

"Nervous?" Eva shrugged. "What for? If you can join a new school with a baby and not be nervous about it then why should I be nervous about an exam results? Okay, see you in a bit." She waved at her.

Hermione nodded and waved back. Draco was desperately wishing that the memory didn't end there, he wanted to watch Hermione more but the scene shifted leaving him wanting for more.

When the scene reformed again, Draco found himself in a classroom, the place buzzing with low hum of students talking in different languages. He looked at his left and found Eva reading the morning newspaper before the class commenced and sitting next to her was…

Draco gasped involuntarily. Was this Hermione Granger?

Nonplussed, he shifted more to the left, even through Eva and positioned himself immediately next to Hermione.

Though Draco had seen her following her makeover and on quite a few occasions after that, she hadn't looked this different in any of those. But now, donning Fleur's old Beauxbatons uniforms of blue silk, Draco doubted if Potter and Weasley would be ever able to recognize their best friend.

This Hermione was completely unrecognizable from the Hogwarts Hermione Draco was accustomed to see. While at Hogwarts, her bushy brown mane would hang loose or be tied into an untidy twist to keep them away from her eyes as she always poured over a book; her beautiful features would completely be plain for she never cared to wear make-ups or put on trinkets like most grown up girls did. Even after their marriage, Draco had never seen Hermione use anything more than a lip balm as a possible cosmetic, so simple was this brilliant woman in her daily life.

However, the Beauxbatons version of Hermione Granger, it seemed was adamant to be a complete opposite of her earlier image. Now she had her straight, shiny and short brown hair pulled up into a neat ponytail, leaving a short bangs to cover her forehead diagonally. The new hairstyle revealed her ears and Draco noticed two little pearl eardrops adorning her lobes. She was also wearing two silver rings on her index and middle fingers, something if Draco's own memories served him well, were absent from today's Hermione's hands. Complete with the glow of motherhood she looked simply gorgeous. But it was the eyes that struck Draco most. Behind those heavy black spectacles, Hermione's new hazel brown eyes were gloomy and pensive. They were moving around the classroom and following her, Draco looked around too.

As Audré had said, the Beauxbatons Palace was made mostly of marble and gold. The marble walls of the round class room had gold borders. Larger than life gold statues of notable wizards and witches were placed on niches with their names inscribed underneath. Altheda, Baruffio, Libatius Borage, Phineas Bourne, Zygmunt Budge, Hector Dagworth-Granger, Damocles, Golpalott…Draco read some and identified them as famous Potioneers. So this was a Potions class!

Remembering the tree in the previous memory, he looked up. An intricately painted dome with a large hole in the center was letting a generous amount of sunlight in. It seemed to be the only source of light for there was no candles as it had been in Snape's Dungeons. Next, his eyes roved on the students. Strangely, they didn't have any cauldron, potion ingredients or any other equipments set before them. They were just idly seated around a desk on a raised platform, in an amphitheater setup. They were either giving Hermione very curious glances or talking behind their hands, which Draco noted were mostly girls. He spotted Rebekah in a corner, sitting with her gang of flimsy girl, robust man and…

Draco winced.

That leery eyed man was sitting just beside Rebekah, his eyes fixed like a glue on Hermione's still form. Looking back at her, he found her covering her pretty big bump modestly under a navy blue Beauxbatons robe.

Draco curled his lips, concerned now. The Slytherin in him told that no matter how much Hermione covered her bump, it was bound to raise questions. Even Eva had told so to Audré, that Hermione fell prey to unhealthy curiosity. He was sure that except for Eva and Hermione herself everyone was talking about her pregnancy and absence of a husband. His suspicions were confirmed when fragments of broken sentences about Hermione reached his ears.

"…heard she is a surrogate… maybe she is a Muggleborn…Muggles do that kind of abhorring things, you know…lending their wombs for money…ugh…"

"…I agree…she looks in desperate need of some good clothes…maybe she is that Delacour's surrogate…they are hiring her womb…"

Draco fisted his hands, his nerves raw from anger. He looked at Eva for support and found her watching the students with a deep disapproving frown.

"…Rebekah says that she is sure that it's Fleur's brother's baby…" the flimsy girl was chatting with a nearby girl with the face of a bulldog. "…he has an elder brother…I saw his photo in the newspaper…he was the one standing beside her ugly husband when they got off from the train…"

"…tsk…tsk…tsk…these men…" the bulldog girl shook her head in fake sympathy, "…who could say what they are hiding behind their masks…"

"You bitch!" Draco growled, "You lot are worse than Pansy."

"But Chorin!" another girl called Rebekah's flimsy friend and she turned to her, eyes shining with mad enthusiasm, "I think this girl had too many boyfriends to actually realize who was the baby's father…look the innocent face she has put on…as if she doesn't even know what we are talking about….I swear, that's what they use to attract those boys and get a good bang…"

"You foul little pig!" Draco looked wildly for anything to shove down that girl's venomous throat, "…come to me and I will show you what a real banging is…"

Noting Eva's ongoing silence and inactivity, the gossiping students were not caring to keep their voice down now. Soon their conversation turned raucous, magnified manifold by echoes around the dome.

"…but that doesn't explain why Madame Maxime is saving her back… she had that Eva commissioned to her as her one-man-army…" another girl asked, as if the world would die if the great mystery wasn't solved.

"…maybe, she was one of Dumbledore's many mistresses…" a girl with squints suggested hopefully. "I heard that the old crook used young girls…it was on Rita's book, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore…it was a bestseller, you know…it can't be all lie…"

"I bet you wouldn't be able to differentiate between a suck and a fuck with those squinty eyes." Draco spat. "One could easily fuck you senseless and you will think it was just a banana up your cunt."

"…I think it could be one of the teacher's baby…" a boy with a silly look suggested wisely, "…maybe she slept with him to have more marks…"

"SHUT UP, YOU BASTARDS, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Draco stood up, ready cast a Fiendfyre and burn the whole place to ashes. Magic or not this place was worse than any hell. The people were so narrow-minded, the air so poisonous. "DO YOU PIG-HEADS EVER READ ANYTHING OTHER THAN TABLIODS? I WONDER HOW YOU PASSED YOUR O. W. L. s! BET YOU SLEPT WITH YOUR TEACHERS TO PASS!" he demanded, fuming like a kettle. "My Hermione is purer than gold and filthy riffraff like you lot are not even fit to touch her little toe." He spat on the floor.

"…I mean, it's obviously a lie that she had a fiancé and he died in the war…if she had one…and he did die in the war…then his family should have come forward and taken care of the baby…"

"…I think it's a…you know I mean…illegitimate child…no one can blame me for using that word…that's the real definition of illegitimate child."

The last two comments were made by Rebekah and it was the loudest of all the remarks made by students so far. Draco focused his gaze on her. She was sitting and loftily leaning against the leery eyed man, as if his girl friend as her fingers played with the strings of her rich and expensive school robe.

Draco was sure he would never regret using a Killing Curse on her, so angry was he. Unable to take anymore, he looked at Hermione helplessly. To his extreme surprise, she looked perfectly calm, like an ice statue. But her eyes spoke to him; they were dead.

"Do you want me to them report to Madame Maxime?" he heard Eva asked Hermione finally. "I can, you know."

"I know you can but I don't want you to." Hermione replied solemnly. The patience behind her words rendered Draco speechless. "Honestly, Eva, I am fine with it. I know what I am and what my baby is. They can't change it with their rude words. Besides, only those who are weak, complain. I am not weak and I have been through worse."

Her words brought back to Draco the previous realization he had, that Hermione Granger never complained. Even he and his Slytherin gang had taunted her mercilessly and called her a Mudblood openly but did she ever complain about them to Dumbledore? No. Contrast to Draco and his famous 'my father will hear about this', this woman was exceptionally strong willed and courageous.

His musings broke when both Hermione and Eva stood up suddenly. The class has become very silent and slightly distracted, he looked at the direction of the Dias and found a man draped in Beauxbatons blue silk robes, leaning against the desk as the class greeted him with a chorus of Bonjour.

"Bonjour." The man, Draco suspected was the Potions teacher, said and gestured the students to take their seats. He was a well built middle aged man with a strong look of personality that even Draco wouldn't dare to cross and currently, his grey eyes were roaming over the students like a hawks as he lightly adjusted his grey wig. His nerves slightly cooled down, Draco sat down beside Hermione.

"Eighty five." He announced suddenly, making most of the students jump slightly. Hermione, Draco noted, was one of the few who didn't. She was perfectly still, just as she had been when the students ridiculed her.

"We are eighty five people here. Eighty four students and one teacher." The teacher scanned them. Under his uneasy gaze, Rebekah cleared her throat and a few others shifted uncomfortably on their seats. Their teacher, however, ignored it completely.

"Welcome everyone to your advanced Potions class with me, Professéur Andreas Xanthos." His English was decent but heavily accented in what Draco could recognize as Greek. "You can also call me Professéur Xanthos or simply Prof and I assure you that I won't mind but..." He paused delicately as the class held its breath, "... I will have no nonsense in my class." He warned them in a low dangerous whisper.

Draco was strongly reminded of Snape's classes and wondered if all portion teachers were the same. He glanced at Hermione. She was sitting with her hands gently folded on her lap, as calm as a dove.

"As you all know," Draco heard Xanthos resumed and turned his attention to him again, "…this is your last year at Beauxbatons and your last chance to do something impressive with the sufficient talents you have in the field of potion making." He started walking around the dias, his robe trailing behind him. "Therefore I have decided to give you a grand opportunity to prove yourselves."

A few subdued students exchanged hopeful glances among themselves. It was almost like watching Hermione as she tried to answer questions correctly and earn points for her House. Draco still remembered their first potions class. He was extremely annoyed when the new Mudblood was waving her hand insistently in the air, like an ostrich's head as Snape bombarded Potter with his questions. This Hermione, however, did nothing. She just sat there, looking indifferent. Draco expected her to be the old Hermione and answer the questions once Xanthos started his ones. It would greatly improve her mood.

But, regrettably, Xanthos did nothing of that sort. Instead of asking questions and letting Hermione prove herself before the class, the Greek simply waved his wand and an invisible hand started writing a list of words in the thin air. It was then that Draco noticed that the beautiful classroom had no blackboard. Curious, he scanned the list and found that they were the names of three advanced level potions: Polyjuice, Veritaserum and Wolfsbane. Once it was done, Xanthos stood by the completed list and scratched his long eagle nose.

"Your work for the first month of this term will be to brew any one of these Potions..." he waved at the list. There was a collective gasp followed by excited chatter. Draco saw Rebekah and her flimsy friend, Chorin, disappear behind their hands, evidently trying to decide on the potion. He wondered if they were intelligent enough to differentiate a Mandrake from a Blast-Ended Skrewt. "...but..." Xanthos held an index in the air, "as a team of three."

A collective groaned welcomed the announcement. Draco perceived the reason behind the disappointment very well and smirked. Served the dickheads right! Brewing potion was ones individual display of merit on that field and a team work would ruin it. He would certainly never pair up with Goyle or Pansy to brew even a Boil Curing Potion.

"But Professéur, not everyone has the same level of skills!" One of the students raised his hand and asked. "What if one of my teammates didn't work well and the potion got ruined? The others will receive low grades as well and it might not be their faults."

"Exactly." Xanthos looked very pleased that his students would be receiving bottom marks. "If you were expecting to impress your teacher by your individual works then let that thought out of head right now." he said firmly, "This is the Advanced Level Potions Class, everyone," he declared, "…meaning many of you will be pursuing your careers as a Potioneer in future based on this class only. You are hereby expected to prepare yourself to work in all kinds of situations. In advanced research projects, my dear students, one will simply not give you an entire potion's lab to work alone. You will have other people to work with; you will check their works and they will check yours as well. And that is what you will learn here: working as a team and not for personal glory." He clarified, "If I am not wrong, which I hardly am, some friendships will not last this storm because when it comes to grades, no one will compromise." He smirked confidently. "Also, the ones who are happy with my declaration are the ones who are the weakest in this subject, regardless of what grade they received in their O. W. L. s."

Draco heard a breakout of low whispered conversation among students as they discussed whom to include and whom to exclude. He looked back at Hermione. She was silently looking down at her bump and for a moment Draco thought she was feeling ill again from the humiliation she had to endure at the beginning of the class.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" he asked her gently, forgetting as always that it was a memory.

Hermione, as expected, didn't reply. She seemed lost in some thoughts that were apparently more important than the current topic. Draco realized how uncharacteristic this was. This was not the normal Hermione he knew.

"Granger, will you be our partner?" He heard Eva asked Hermione suddenly. Looking around, he found Eva consulting Edmound in rapid French. In his pursuit of watching Hermione, he hadn't noticed that the moron was sitting on the other side of Eva. His eyes roved down his entire visible form for the sign of a snake. Thankfully, there was none.

"Pardon?" Hermione looked up and said. She still looked lost.

"We, Edmound and I, want you to join us." Eva rephrased her offer to Hermione with an encouraging smile. "You already know that I got eight O. W. L. s. Edmound got seven." she paused cautiously, "I know he frightened you on the train." she elbowed her brother who immediately tried to appear most mournful. "But he's excellent in identifying Potion ingredients derived from animals. We can have a decent team if you don't mind joining us."

"About time, Bellamys." Draco commented coldly, remembering that she worked at the same Werewolf facility where he was volunteering. "I hope you are not as useless as you seem."

"Fine." Hermione nodded. Draco had noticed how no one except Eva asked the new girl in the class to be their partner. It certainly was no wonder, considering what they had done to her. "I think we should try the Veritaserum" she said, checking the list.

"Veritaserum?" Eva repeated, "I was considering the Polyjuice."

"And I was considering the Wolfsbane." Edmound interjected.

"I have already done the Polyjuice Potion." Hermione told them, "And there are very few people who can brew a Wolfsbane correctly. It's very complicated."

"They teach Polyjuice at Hogwarts?" Eva ignored the remark on Wolfsbane and asked. She was definitely amazed by the little wonder her new roommate revealed.

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it and nodded stiffly. Draco, who knew the entire story behind the Polyjuice Potion, understood the silence behind her gesture.

"Cool!" Eva's eyes were twinkling now. "Why don't we do the Polyjuice then? You have already done it. You know how to do it correctly. We can have good grades if we succeed."

Draco waited for Hermione's answer. He was hoping that she would stick to Veritaserum and show everyone her efficiency.

Hermione shook her head, "We can't or better say we shouldn't." she showed them the list and following her finger, Draco noted that the magical list was updating itself. A number inside a first bracket beside each name said how many people were signing up for that Potion. There was a 20 etched beside Polyjuice meaning twenty groups were already bidding their names for it. Five groups have taken the Wolfsbane. Only a number one was written beside Veritaserum. "...everyone is taking it."

"Oh!" Eva looked unhappy about losing her opportunity to brew the Polyjuice with an expert. "Okay, we'll take Veritaserum. Maybe Prof will give us good marks considering that we are one of those two who actually dared to take the project." She suggested hopefully.

"And I know for a fact that they use Jobberknoll Feathers in it and I know an excellent source…" Edmound started pompously when Eva quelled him with a warning glare.

"Edmound, I think we will have plenty of time to discuss Jobberknoll Feathers." She glanced at a subdued Hermione. "Now, Granger, reckon we should check the potion recipe."

"Yeah." Hermione replied and pulled out her battered copy of 'A guide to Advanced Potions' from her bag. It was one of those she had purchased from that second hand bookshop. Draco was wondering where her Hogwarts books were when she took out the Hogwarts counterpart of it: Libatius Borage's Advanced Potions Making.

It was strangely heartbreaking when Hermione opened the book and ran her fingers through its pages as if trying to feel her old school in them. Her hand stopped over the title, 'Draught of Living Dead' and she gazed at it with such intensity that Draco thought she could actually see the sixth year potions class in it.

"They use that book in Hogwarts?" Eva's question brought Draco back to reality. Looking on his right, he found her eyeing Hermione's book with great interest.

"Ye…yeah." Hermione cleared her throat and replied with a strained smile.

"Are you okay?" Eva, it seemed has noticed Hermione's discomfort.

"I…am fine." Hermione nodded, placing a hand on her bump, "It's just the baby…he's moving."

"How does it feel?" Edmound asked suddenly. He looked pretty enthusiastic about it. "Can I feel him?" he reached for Hermione's bump when Eva beat it aside with a furious glare.

"Never mind, Granger." she assured a slightly alarmed looking Hermione, "Edmound will behave himself next time." she assured her.

Draco was wondering how these three unlikely people became friends when Xanthos called his students to submit the name of their team members with the name of the potion they would be brewing for the project. On a piece of parchment, Eva wrote down three names under the name of Veritaserum and sent Edmound to hand it to their professor.

It was then that Draco noticed Hermione was taking the back seats instead of the usual fronts she liked to take at Hogwarts. Like her appearance, it seemed that the two Hermiones have changed or appeared to have changed in their behaviours. Soon the reason behind it became clear. As the class was shepherded to another room next to the one they were sitting and offered to choose their workspaces for a month, no one treaded the path Hermione was standing with Eva and Edmound though the curious glances at her direction didn't diminish one jot.

Hermione, as calm as ever, walked to and stood behind a waist high spacious marble counter when Eva chose them a private space in a remote corner. It had a large ceiling high window in the background with the same breathtaking view of the waterfalls that was available from Hermione's balcony and after taking out and arranging her cauldron, mortar-pestle, potion ingredients and brass scales, she turned to it, watching the relentless foamy water fall.

Draco watched her silently, his only concern being what Hermione was thinking so deeply. It was clear now that she was terribly missing Hogwarts. He had never seen her be so quiet.

"Everyone." It was Professor Xanthos's loud clap that called an end to the coveted glances and all the meaningful winking and smirking at Hermione's direction. "I want your fullest attention."

Hermione sighed and turned to her teacher.

"I believe you are aware that the use of these three Potions that you will be brewing under my supervision is strictly regulated by the Ministry of Magic." Xanthos arched an eyebrow and emphasized the point severely, "Therefore, if even a drop of this potions go outside this classroom, fellows, I'll award the entire team a big…" he drew a large circle in the air with his wand, "…zero."

Draco noticed how his words caused the tension to be suddenly palpable. A few students gulped and exchanged anxious looks.

"Place protective charms around your work stations once you are done with it to prevent any sabotage." Xanthos warned his students, "Remember," he held an index finger in the air, "…your Potion is your responsibility."

Everyone listening, conscious or subconscious, nodded and started working on their respective potions.

"They say we will need Sopophorous Beans and Edmound's favourite Jobberknoll Feathers for the first stage of Veritaserum." Eva said brightly, evidently trying to cheer the other two members of her team. After the last incident, it appeared Edmound was very cautious to even breathe around Hermione who was very quiet. "We will need juice from eleven and a half beans…I don't know to measure half a bean…should we cut it and then measure the juice or the whole bean or what? Granger, what do you think?" she asked a silent Hermione.

"Yes…ah…" Draco noted how Hermione suddenly came out of her mysterious musings. Despite her being pregnant she was not sitting on one of the wooden stools but standing behind her cauldron, looking lost. On Eva's words, she quickly checked both of her books, the one on Beauxbatons list and the Hogwarts one before answering. "I think we can cut a bean, measure its juice and take the required half." She suggested with a small smile.

"Good idea." Eva nodded encouragingly. It seemed she was determined to have some spirit infused to her team.

Draco watched them work silently for another fifteen minute. Occasionally, he checked on Rebekah and the leery eyed man. He liked it immensely when Xanthos, who was checking each work space, advising the students on correct various method of extracting leech blood or skinning the artichokes, rebuked her for donning expensive robes for a potions class. The leery eyed man, however, was calm and glancing at Hermione with the same mysterious smirk plastered on his damn face. Draco felt like gauzing out his eyes and boiling them in acid. It was not until Xanthos came and halted by Hermione's cauldron that he looked away.

"Veritaserum." He adjusted his pinch-nez, read from the parchment and peeped into their cauldrons which were still full of simmering water. He glanced one by one at Edmound, Eva and Hermione. "Edmound and Eva Bellamy and… Jean Granger." he read from the parchment again. "Hogwarts, hm?" he arched an eyebrow at Hermione's direction.

"Yes, Professéur." She replied politely.

Xanthos frowned and opened the register book. His fingers went down the list of names and rested beside Hermione's. "Had an 'O' in your potions?"

"Yes, Professéur." Hermione nodded.

Xanthos looked up from the register book. "Your Potions teacher was?"

"Professor Severus Snape." Hermione replied solemnly.

Xanthos narrowed his eyes. "The one who was your Headmaster during the Dark Lord's regime? The one who killed your previous Headmaster?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. She looked strangely calm and confident. "But he was loyal to Professor Dumbledore and the death was an arrangement between them. Professor Snape…" her voice was proud, "…died trying to prove his loyalty on our side."

"Our side?" Xanthos took up the word immediately, "Were you at the battle when it happened?"

Hermione nodded again. Draco noticed how the rest of the class had fallen silent to listen to their conversation. "I was, sir. We fought together."

"In this state?" Xanthos's eyes roved down to Hermione's bump.

Hermione placed a hand on her bump. "Yes, sir. Some calls are hard to ignore."

"I see." Xanthos was smirking mysteriously now, "Then why didn't you continue your study at Hogwarts if you were so passionate to sacrifice your baby for it? Or don't they allow pregnant students?"

Draco fisted his hands angrily. He had taken the Greek to be more mature than his pupils but regrettably he wasn't. Asking Hermione about her choices to keep the baby or her old school was not a part of the class.

"I am sure they do, sir, but I never asked." Hermione's demeanor was calm but undeterred. "Before you ask me the next default question, sir, I would like to answer it myself. My parents perished during the war. I had no family left. And after I discovered that I am pregnant…" Draco noted the forced strength in her tone, "…I decided to come here and pursue my studies in Beauxbatons so that she can take care of me and my baby."

The whole class, it appeared has forgotten their real purpose and hanging to Hermione's every word like Nifflers on gold. Edmound was blinking like an owl and Eva's mouth was slightly hanging open. Xanthos, however, seemed satisfied with Hermione's raw courage. He was smiling now.

"That's a very foolish and brave decision, Granger, trying to bring a baby in the world, all alone." He said, enjoying himself greatly, "I heard that it's a trait of the Gryffindors. Were you one?"

"No, sir, I was in Ravenclaw." Hermione replied with such honesty that even Draco would have believed her too had he not known the truth. "Most mistake my surname with that of Potter's pal – Hermione Granger. She was in Gryffindor and a very popular know-it-all."

Draco's mouth fell open this time.

"Did you know them? The golden Trio?" Xanthos asked.

"Hardly, sir. Our dormitories were different and we didn't have many classes together." Even the most potent of Veritaserums couldn't possibly make anyone confess such truths as Hermione lied before her teacher. "Gryffindors had classes with their arch enemies – the Slytherins. We had ours with the Hufflepuffs. During the battle of Hogwarts I was with my housemates. After the war, I came here to live with my aunt's family. I don't know what happened to them, nor am I interested."

"I heard that Potter's pal Granger went to stay with her parents in Australia." One of the eager audiences blurted out suddenly.

"Yeah, even I thought it was this girl." Rebekah interjected, her voice full of malice. "But I guess that Granger is smart enough to not become pregnant out of wedlock."

Her avid listeners roared in laughter and nodded.

"Silence!" Xanthos's voice whipped in the air and the class fell silent again. Draco was fisting his hands so tightly that it hurt. He thought he would burst if didn't rip Rebekah from limb to limb for insulting Hermione in public. Her motive was clear to him now. She was taking Fleur's revenge on Hermione because she was known to everyone as her cousin.

"Rebekah?" Xanthos looked over his shoulder and called her silkily. "If I hear you interrupting me ever again, silly girl, you'll never see this class again. Understood?" he asked icily and Rebekah, now looking very nervous, nodded with as much dignity as she could muster.

"So Granger and Bellamys." Xanthos turned to the trio as if nothing has happened, "Why did you choose Veritaserum?"

As Eva explained her reasons for choosing that particular potion, Draco, his anger ebbing away, glanced at Hermione. She seemed like a wax statue: beautiful, elegant, but lifeless.

His query finished and his thirst quenched, Xanthos moved to the next group and soon Hermione lost herself in the potion making. She spoke very little during the next two hours as they cut the beans and grinded the Jobberknoll Feathers.

"Don't cut the beans like that." she warned Eva who was trying to cut the Sopophorous Beans. Draco from his own experiences in the sixth year potions class knew that it would bounce and so was it. "Crush it like this." she crushed one with the flat side of her silver knife and it released profuse amount of juice. "That's more effective."

"But the book asks us to cut it!" Eva looked both impressed and confused.

"Trust me. It's one of Professor Snape's secret methods." The first true smile on Hermione's lips was finally there and watching her, Draco couldn't help but smile too.

Yes, life was full of despair but there was light too and in these memories, he was learning how to be positive and brave. He was feeling pretty well when the scene shifted again.

On the next scene, Draco expected to be present at yet another class with Hermione as her teachers poked her on her past, but the room he landed on couldn't possibly belong to a school. It neither had the grandeur nor the magical aura. Slightly confused, he frowned and swept a glance over the place.

It was a medium sized sitting room with two high arched windows through which a generous amount of sunlight was seeping in. The furniture scattered around it were of pretty good standards; Draco's seasoned eyes identified them as antique Victorian ones, upholstered in flower patterned fabric. Two single and double sofas with pouffe and an elegant divan encircled the center table. The room had a cluttered feel about it with their heavy presence and as if to make it more crammed, a grand piano was placed in a corner. Its raised diagonal lid was facing the sitting area, giving the pianist some privacy behind the giant wooden body and music rack.

Someone was playing the keys already but he or she wasn't visible from where Draco watched. The produced music was also hesitant and childish, as if a novice was having some fun. Draco frowned. It couldn't be Hermione. He knew she was proficient with the piano. It wasn't the Delacour residence or some secret room in his uncle's Château. Curious and wondering what he was doing in such a place, Draco walked to it.

As soon as he crossed the barrier of the lid, three people came to his view.

Hermione, a red haired man and a woman with short brown curls were working on the grand instrument. The couple was sitting on the piano bench, side by side and Draco's eyes lingered on the woman's curls for a while. They were almost like Hermione's before she had that bloody makeover. It was the man whose fingers were experimenting with the keys as Hermione watched him work in silence.

Draco's lips twisted into a smile. So this was the memory of Hermione as a Piano tutor. It must be Apolline's then. His eyes automatically scanned the place for a sign of the said lady but there was none. Then it occurred to him suddenly. She must be under the Disillusionment Charm, taking care of Hermione when she was at work. It was quite obvious. After what happened with Vincent, no one would feel comfortable to let her out of sight, not even Draco.

Satisfies, he returned to his watching of Hermione. In a modest black and blue long sleeved dress, she was leaning against the piano, her bump gently resting on the wooden frame. Even though Draco knew that it was a memory and not real, he loved to watch Hermione's bump; it had his little angel, his little Adrian, his first born. There was nothing impure or unholy about the bump or the mother. They both were both innocents. He was the unholy man here, he was the rapist.

Draco sighed. He knew it was impossible to hope or ask or wish but his hands etched to touch that bump, that womb, that fruit and feel it, press his ears to it and tell him, the unborn baby that he would never hurt his mother in the coming days, that he would do anything to earn her forgiveness for he had no other hope in the cursed life he had created for himself. But alas! Just as the sand passed through the fingers no matter how tightly one held to them, those beautiful times were gone and would never return. Now he only had the memories to live on and mature himself.

He watched Hermione, who in turn was watching the couple as they played the instrument together and laughed occasionally. Draco noticed how she was standing by the woman's side of the bench and taking care to be as far away as possible from the man without appearing rude or awkward. In contrast to the happy couple, she looked lost and sad.

"How was my husband?" The woman's question seemed to break her stream of thoughts and she smiled approvingly at her.

"It was good but Monsieur Michael needs a lot of practice to improve." She said, "You play it now, Géraldine." She asked the wife.

Following Hermione's words, her female student played or better say, struck the keys most awkwardly. Draco, his mind lost on Hermione, bit his tongue and covered his ears. Horrible! The woman was just horrible with that instrument! Even he, who had elementary knowledge on piano, was better than her. Why him actually, even the house elves of Malfoy Manor were thousand times better than Géraldine. He wished Hermione wouldn't waste her valuable time after her and be contended with her male student. He seemed to be a better learner than his wife.

But proving him wrong, Hermione gracefully asked the man to move aside to make room for her and his wife. When he did so, she sat on the bench beside Géraldine and with unparalleled patience taught her about the keys and cords from the very beginning. Draco listened to her, marveled by the depth of her knowledge.

She said that her grandma Jean had given her piano lessons since she was just five. That made him remember his own lessons.

The Malfoys being very proud of their artistic taste, encouraged their sons (for they had no daughters) to be proficient in any well reputed musical instrument. Lucius had hired a well known piano teacher for Draco when he was eight and he was done with that silly instrument by the time he was nine. He never went back for it; he felt greatly bored and wasn't willing to waste his times behind some keys and cords when there was so much more to do outside. But this day, this moment, as he watched Hermione explain to the couple the mode of playing it, he realized how very wrong he was. It wasn't boring. Playing a piano was pretty enjoyable, like experimenting with a Snitch in the air, like a puzzle where the clues were hidden in the keys.

The lesson didn't last long after Hermione finished her short but in depth lecture on the instrument. She asked the couple to read a few books for more knowledge. Draco wondered whether Géraldine would even bother to open a book on an instrument she was so horrible at. Draco wouldn't if it were him. But her husband, Michael, nodded. They were both in their mid twenties and appeared happily married. Strangely it reminded Draco of himself and Astoria. They too were happily married until the fate decided to take her away from him.

The memory shifted just as Hermione promised to return the next day for another piano lesson. When the scene formed again, he found himself sitting on a chair, around what looked like a kitchen table.

Hermione came into view immediately. She was sitting just opposite to her and was flanked by two kids, one boy and a girl, on either side.

"In English, we have the same twenty six alphabets that you have in French." She was telling them. "They are: A. B. C…" she pronounced one by one and wrote them down on a copy. Draco leaned forward in interest. The kids have caught his attention.

They couldn't be older than Adrian's best friends, Louis and Gina. The boy had a head full of jet black curls while the girl had two plaits on her plain blonde hair. Their rosy pink and chubby cheeks still had the baby fat, a good sign of nourishment and health. Draco watched them, mesmerized.

Wouldn't he love to have family just like this? What wouldn't he do have the opportunity to sit and watch as Hermione teach their children: their son Adrian and a little daughter by the name of Little Jean, the English alphabets? Where wouldn't he go to reach them, play with them, laugh with them and be their ideal father? Was he so worthless? Yes. He was worthless and he admitted it but he was trying his best too. Couldn't he be given another chance?

Draco felt a lump in his throat as the same excruciating pain of remorse incapacitated him. He has watched fourteen memories so far and not a single one could make an impression that Hermione was happy. She was unusually silent, sad and lonely, Draco knew; he could tell. If anyone deserved a second chance, it was she and not him.

But Draco couldn't bear the thought that he would lose her for his foolishness. Yes, he had been foolish, extremely foolish. He had taken years to admit his heinous crime; he had kidnapped her son and forced her to marry him and by doing so he had lost the place of trust in his son's eyes. As if that was not enough, he had accused her of illegal affairs with Alexis, been jealous of him, expressed his so-called 'love' to her and frightened her to the point of insanity. A rapist in love with his victim? Could anything be sicker? Who was he fooling actually? Who was he kidding with? Was he trying to glorify his crime by trying to amend his past mistakes?

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed them wearily.

No. He wasn't glorifying his crime. He was aware of the truth now. He was just trying to live with what was left of him: a soul shattered by losses and burdened with crimes, a son whom he loved, a woman whom he admired, a hope for a better future and a peaceful home. He was fighting against his inner demon, as Hermione had stated it, and striving to be a better Draco Malfoy than he was brought up to be.

How the moments passed by lost in his thoughts Draco didn't know. He was still absentmindedly staring at Hermione and her new students when an elderly woman entered the kitchen.

"That'll be all for today, children." She told the kids in French and they nodded happily, starting to arrange their books and copies without a moments delay. Meanwhile, she went to the stove, ladled something on a plate and set it down before Hermione, its contents steaming. "It is past lunch time, dear. Eat." she ordered her in English.

"No, Madame!" Hermione cried softly, looking highly embarrassed. "I… am full…I really am." she tried to assure her in vain.

Draco checked the clock hanging on the wall. It was almost half past one o' clock in the afternoon.

"Grandma, look her stomach so big! She is full." the little girl supported her teacher innocently but her grandma simply waved them out of her kitchen.

"Don't talk about what doesn't concern you, Chloe! Go and wash your hands. We are all going to have lunch." she called to their retreating form, settling by Hermione. "Girl, I have borne five children…five…" she turned to her and held up five fingers in the air,"…and I know that a pregnant woman is never too full." She pushed the plate to Hermione and placed a spoon on the edge, silently asking her to start.

As a very uncomfortable and shy looking Hermione gulped and took up the spoon, Draco focused his attention back to her. Audré had said that the memories were different this time. So, there must be a reason Apolline gave him or better say, Audré this memory. It couldn't be just to show that those who hired Hermione as an English tutor were good and sensible people.

"The soup is very good." Hermione complimented her host's cooking with a gentle smile. "Merci."

"So, this is your first baby?" the grandma of the kids asked her, accepting her thanks with a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

"Yes." Hermione replied. She took a deep breath, as if trying to prepare herself for the onslaught of questions about the baby's father. Draco couldn't blame her; after what she had been through, it was pretty normal.

"You are so young." The Grandma commented, "You remind me of my youth, girl. How old are you?"

"I'll be nineteen in a few days." Hermione replied cautiously, her eating slowed down now.

"I had my first son when I was seventeen. I came from a rural area in Provence. In our days, girls used to get married when very young. Our life was very simple then. But now? The time has changed so much." The Grandma said matter-of-factly. "Tell me, dear, do you like it here in France?"

"I do." Hermione replied curtly, seemingly trying to decipher where the conversation was taking her.

"How is Apolline related to you?" the elderly woman took out an envelope and placed it on the table.

"She is my uncle Gustave's wife." Hermione has completely stopped eating now, looking pretty apprehensive. "Why, Madame? Is something wrong?"

"No." the Grandma blinked, "What should be wrong?"

"No…" Hermione shook her head, "It's alright. I just thought…" she paused, "Pray continue."

"Dear girl, I don't know why you are being so hesitant and shy but rest assured that I am not going to dismiss you." The Grandma said, smiling now. She pushed the white envelope towards Hermione, "Your guess was right. This is your first week's pay but I am not giving it to you because I am dismissing you. I am giving it to you because I am very pleased with your teaching method." Her smile broadened and it brought a smile on Hermione's lips too. "My grandchildren don't usually like to learn English. I have tried it myself many times but they wouldn't even settle down let alone listen to me. But with you, they have sat down and learnt the alphabets. That's a great progress for me."

"Merci." Hermione's slightly tearful smile made Draco smile with her too. It was a very strange thing though. Down in these memories, he could almost feel whatever she had felt at that time, something he was incapable of doing outside the memories.

"Apolline's family was my neighbour when they were kids." The Grandma gestured Hermione to eat her lunch. "They were three sisters and a brother: Carmine, Veronique, Apolline and their eldest brother, Adrian. Their mother, Parthenope, was a very pretty woman but virtuous. A little bossy and weird but everyone liked her. Her husband, Monsieur Jourdain, loved to entertain the kids with little games of magic, you know, card tricks or turning a bunch of flower into birds."

Hermione nodded, listening in rapt attention.

"Eventually the girls got married and the family was gone." The Grandma sighed sadly, "When Apolline told me that she had an English niece looking for a good job, I thought who's better than her for an English tutor?" she paused, "I hope you are not getting bored."

"No, no, not at all." Hermione assured. "So aunt Apolline told you that I was looking for a job?"

"She didn't tell me exactly." The Grandma replied casually, "We just met at the vegetable market. She was buying some sweet potatoes. I asked her what she would do to them. She said that her niece is pregnant and she was planning to make a soup with it. When I learnt that you are an English woman, I thought that would be a great idea to have my grandkids learn English from you." she said brightly.

Draco shook his head in amazement. How this family has protected and helped Hermione in everything from food, clothes, shelter, morale support and everything! No doubt Hermione called Apolline and Gustave as mother and father. Would he ever be able to repay their debts?

Hermione was staring at her plate, her lips between her fine white teeth. Draco suspected she was just as overwhelmed as he was. "What's this soup called?" she looked up and suddenly asked the elderly woman.

"This?" the Grandma repeated, "It's called a Pistou soup." She replied casually and looked over her shoulder, calling the children for lunch.

"How do you cook this?" Hermione asked her again. The look that appeared on Hermione's face was enough to tell Draco that she was planning something. "I mean what do you give in this soup?" she elaborated her question when the Grandma turned back to her.

"There are three types of beans, zucchini, squash and two types of cheeses in that soup." She replied, evidently glad that Hermione loved the food enough to enquire on the ingredients. She even explained the recipe to her. Hermione listened, finished the meal silently and left with a word of thanks after pocketing her pay.

Draco was slightly confused when the scene shifted again. There was nothing he could virtually use as a possible source of information on Hermione except for the fact that the Delacours had supported and stood by her side like a family. When the next scene appeared, he found himself, sitting in another chair, around another kitchen table but this time it was the Delacour household.

Instinctively, he looked around and found Hermione sitting just next to him. Around her all the Delacours minus Gabrielle and plus Bill were chatting animatedly as they enjoyed their supper. Draco looked at Hermione's food. She had a small bowl of the same green bean soup before her, which she was finishing slowly.

"Maman, the Pistou is just fantastic!" Fleur praised her mother's cooking, sipping a bit of thick broth from her spoon. Every one nodded in agreement and she turned to her husband. "Bill, I think you should learn it from her. If you are really interested in cooking, Pistou is thousand times better than that goblin soup, 'fool mendes'." She said dismissively.

"Ful Medames, Fleur." It seemed Bill was programmed to correct his wife's intentional mistake, "And it's the Pharaoh's food."

"Okay…okay…" Apolline held up a hand and called for order, "No more quarrelling. The credit for Pistou goes to Jean and not to me. She received her first pay today and bought the beans, zucchini and cheese for it." she informed the table proudly, beaming at Hermione. Her words were met with a collective gasp of admiration from everyone at the table. Gustave even poured him some more soup and smiled appreciatively at Hermione.

"Merci, Jean, but there was no need to take the trouble." He said, "You'll be leaving for Beauxbatons in an hour. You could've done well with some rest."

"I can take rest when I return there." Hermione said, her smile true this time. Draco noted how she seemed to greatly enjoy her contribution to their happiness, even if it was small. It occurred to him then. The previous memory highlighted her self-esteem. She wouldn't take anything from the Delacours without returning some. Audré was right; he had to look past what was apparently happening to what was actually happening. "Since I came here in June, I haven't been able to do anything for you." her next words proved his assumption true.

"Who said you didn't do anything?" Apolline asked, her eyebrows rose in astonishment, "You helped us to get rid of that Margot! Had it not been for you, Jean, I don't think she'd have left so easily. And what's more, she won't be back next summer."

Everyone laughed at her words, even Draco, whose memory of that part of the third batch of memories was still very fresh.

"So how was your first week at Beauxbatons?" Gustave asked Hermione, once everyone cooled down, "Did you like your room in Bellefeuille?"

"I did." Hermione replied solemnly, "It was a little overwhelming at first; because our rooms in Hogwarts weren't like it. We had a circular room in one of the turrets and had five four-poster beds there. But in Beauxbatons, everything is so beautiful, so enchanting that it seems almost unreal. Waterfalls, Fountain of Youth, an actual tree in my hostel room! One could never imagine having them in Hogwarts."

"I know." Gustave nodded in understandment, "Even for me, it was a bit shocking when I walked into my room and found a giant cherry tree growing up from the floor to replace the ceiling. But that's a very common feature in Beauxbatons. You'll find it everywhere. Beauty and magic. It was made in a way to be completely different from all magical schools, be it Hogwarts or Durmstrang. Take René Bellefeuille for example. He was a great lover of trees and therefore, the dormitory named after him has a touch of nature. Lucian Ombrelune, on the other hand, was a great appreciator of intelligence and in his Maison, the rooms were hidden inside a giant maze. Brie Papillonlisse made the Maison Gabrielle is staying for her Third Year. If you ever go there you'll see that the place is full of paintings and sculptures for she was an avid lover of fine arts." He explained and sipped a generous amount of soup, "Oh, I forgot to ask you. How is your new roommate? What's her name again?"

"Eva." Hermione replied, "She is fine." she nodded, "She, her brother and I, we are doing a Potions project together."

"Really?" Bill said, seemingly relieved that Hermione was slowly adapting to her new school. Draco wondered how much of the reality he was aware of. Hermione was not the type to preach her pain before everyone. "What's it?" he asked her.

"Veritaserum." Hermione replied curtly.

"I hope that Rebekah isn't bothering you, 'ermione." Fleur said, her features mildly livid, "Bitch!"

"Fleur!" Alexis warned his sister, "What happened on the platform, is over now. She apologized to Bill. There is no need to over-exaggerate it."

"She is not over-exaggerating, you moron and it is not over." Draco countered furiously, "She and her bitch gang is insulting Hermione in public, if you care to know." He looked at Hermione, wishing she would tell them something now. But she nodded in agreement with Alexis.

"Yes, Fleur, what happened there is over." she said calmly, "No one is bothering me at Beauxbatons after Eva told them that Madame Maxime will be notified if they did any such thing."

"That's a lie!" Draco cried in desperation. "Why aren't you telling them the truth, Hermione, Why aren't you telling them the truth? Rebekah and her gang are trying to take revenge of that public insult on you! Admitting the truth isn't your weakness! No one will judge you for it! And the Delacours are here to help you!"

But his words hung in the air like a thick layer of mist, reminding him that it was a memory and no matter how much he banged his head, his cries wouldn't reach her or anyone.

"Aunt, today Madame Caron told me about your family after she gave me my pay." He heard Hermione start a completely different topic. "She said that your father loved to entertain the Muggle kids with magic?"

"He did and the kids loved him for it." Apolline nodded, "There were harmless little tricks, you know, not the serious kind that your break the Law of Secrecy. I am sure you know that most Muggle kids grew up watching magicians conjuring a rabbit out of a hat or doing the card tricks." She said, "Unlike most purebloods, we spent our life in a Muggle neighbourhood." Her features turned thoughtful suddenly, "Jean, I hope you will not mind if I tell you something about my family."

"No, aunt, I won't." Hermione said, her soup spoon hanging in the mid air.

Apolline inhaled and seemed to make up her mind. "I remember, that evening when you said that the Wizarding society is full of people like Malfoys who buy justice or that horrible reporter, Skeeter or scooter, whatever, who sell lies. You said that Lord Voldemort's principle still lives inside his followers and asked us how many Harry Potters should be born to vanquish that evil. Right?"

"Yes, I did." Hermione replied, her features pensive.

"You asked us but we didn't answer." Apolline said, "I don't know about Bill or Fleur, dear, but I had the answer ready in my head, Jean. I could've told you right away but I preferred to be silent. I knew you were greatly distressed about your family and I didn't wish to upset you more with my little story." She paused.

Draco noticed how everyone at the table suddenly became very quiet, as if sensing the approach of a great storm. Gustave placed at hand on Apolline's and squeezed. Alexis gave his mother a calm but supportive glance. Bill and Fleur exchanged looks. Noting the sudden palpable tension, Hermione frowned slightly but didn't speak.

"Madame Caron must have told you about my brother, Adrian Jourdain." Apolline asked Hermione and she nodded, "Did she tell you what happened to him?"

Hermione shook her head this time, slightly puzzled. Draco tried to recall it too. Adrian was his son's name and he felt there was a connection between the two memories.

"He died while saving a school full of Muggle kids." Apolline stated plainly, as if it was the weather she was talking about, "He was a very famous Auror; the top of his department. He fought and defeated many dark wizards. May be they were not as great as Lord Voldemort but he did help in catching them. He was a widower and childless. Maybe for that reason, he loved kids, any kids, be it Muggle or magical."

"I still remember the day we received the news of his death. I was three monthes pregnant with Gabrielle and I was visiting my parents' home. My mother was telling me to talk to Adrian and persuade him to marry again. She was worried that he might be forced to live alone for the rest of his life. I was telling her that I will talk to him when a Ministry official arrived at our home. It was an odd time and Adrian wasn't at home. Maman told him that my brother was at his office and would be back in the evening. He lived with my parents after his wife died from childbirth, you know." She cleared her throat, "The officer said that…that he would never be back."

"Maman!" Fleur exclaimed softly. But her mother looked determined to finish her story.

"The official told us that Adrian died in an accident. Some thugs…terrorists…extremists…I don't know what these twisted people are called, had taken a Muggle school under siege and threatened to kill them all if their demand wasn't fulfilled. The school was in our neighbourhood and the kids who attended it were mostly from low income families. When those maniacs attacked it, the Muggle authority was in a fix on what to do, attack the place or negotiate with them."

"When my Auror brother heard it, I don't know why, may be out of his love for kids, he apparated inside, Stunned them one by one and released the children. The kids who witnessed it said that he was almost done when a man suddenly pulled a gun on his head and fired it. The thing…it's called a bullet, I heard… went through his head. He died on spot. Imagine a man, who won against many dark wizards only to die by a Muggle bullet? My maman went mad from grief and died within three monthes. My papa followed them a year later." She sighed.

The air was heavy with her unspoken pain and Draco heard Hermione break it finally.

"I am sorry." Her voice was muffled and rasping. Looking at her, Draco found her tearful.

"No, Jean, don't be sorry. Ever." Apolline, surprisingly, pulled herself together and lifted her chin. There was not a single tear in her eyes. "My words were not intended to hurt you, dear. I just wanted to tell you that my brother Adrian is not dead. He is alive." she declared proudly, "Do you know how many woman, mostly, Muggles named their son's after him? They don't know that he was a wizard of course, but that is beside the point. They recognized a person's sacrifice and that's what matters Jean." she smiled, "My brother lives in his works, in his ideals, in his morales, in his sacrifices. No one would live forever, dear; no matter how powerful you are, you must taste the death. So when you said that Lord Voldemort is dead but his followers are alive and his principles live on, I say that people like my brother, or your headmaster Dumbledore are also alive through their works and ideas and as long as one…" she held up a firm finger in the air, "…one person is brave enough to raise his voice against tyrants, Jean, the evil will never win against the good. Be it women, be it elves or the pureblood supremacy, the time will change and a new day will come."

Hermione nodded, silent tears flowing down her cheek now.

"Now, now, Apolline. You made my dear niece cry!" Gustave chastised his wife, left his seat and came over to Hermione. He smiled and wiped away her tears, "I keep telling her that she could have been a great Auror too but she spent her life being a common midwife."

"No, midwife is fine." Hermione said, sniffing slightly, "It's not common."

"Really? Okay." Gustave nodded and sat on the empty chair Draco was occupying beside Hermione. He handed her a glass of water and gestured everyone to continue with their eating as well. "Tell me dear, have you thought of a name for your baby?"

"Name?" Hermione blinked, looking distracted. "Not really." She confessed. She seemed to have overcome her emotions too. "I was expecting that the baby is a girl but then…it turned out that he's a boy…so…" she trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"Never you mind, dear." Gustave it seemed was relieved that everything was in order as it was before Apolline's story, "We have plenty of time before he arrives."

"I think I'll have his middle name after my father, Thomas Granger." Hermione said thoughtfully after a while. "His surname will be Granger of course, like mine. That's all I have thought about it for now."

"Good." Gustave smiled gently and left for his seat beside his wife. As everyone's mood turned good, Draco finally realized the reason his own son was named after a man who gave his life while saving Muggle kids: Hermione wanted her son to be as selfless as his namesake.

He smiled, feeling truly happy now.

Hermione was right. There could never be a better name for their son: Adrian, the one who sacrificed his life and saved the innocents.

It was million times better than his own ostentatious name: Draco Malfoy.

To be concluded in the next chapter…