Authors Note: Right it's finally here, I could list a whole host of excuses for the lateness of this chapter but won't bore you. Instead I apologise for the rediculously long delay and hope this chapter comes up to expectation. Thanks to my beta for correcting my grammar and so on, and to those of you who have reviewed.
Chapter Nine
The silence in the office was absolute. Not even the distant sound of traffic rumbling down the road disturbed the tense atmosphere in the spacious room. Trying not to fidget, Hermione glanced at Peter Briggs's shocked profile out of the corner of her eye.
Finally, what felt like ages later but was no more than thirty seconds, the solicitor said in a dazed voice, "I see. I hadn't realised that the father of your child was such a prominent figure within wizarding society. This does indeed cast a different light on the matter altogether." He ran distracted fingers through his hair as he spoke.
"I don't see why." Hermione replied irritably, "As far as I'm concerned, I want him out of our lives preferably as soon as possible." She sat straighter in her chair, eyes fixed on the face of the man seated opposite her.
"Hermione, it isn't as straight forward and clear cut as all that," he explained gently having regained his composure. "Draco Malfoy's a very influential person and someone who, if it suited him, could make your life not to mention that of your daughter, extremely difficult. I hadn't realised that the wizard in question was such a high profile individual." He paused and then hesitantly asked, "I don't mean to offend or anything but you're sure that your daughter is his chi…"
"Of course I'm sure," she snapped, not bothering to keep her irritation in check, "I'm a healer in case you'd forgotten. If by any chance I was in doubt of my child's paternity -- which I'm not -- determining it is not difficult." She glowered at him, affronted at his question. What did the man think she was?
"Hermione, I didn't mean to cause offence by my question, but it had to be asked." He looked apologetic but continued, "As you can imagine, there are plenty of opportunists out there who claim that the father of their child is a high-ranking wizard in order to gain money and notoriety. I was simply covering a formality by asking, nothing else," he defended himself.
Resisting the temptation to roll her eyes in exasperation, Hermione took several deep breaths before speaking. "Well, I'm not after the git's money -- or anything else for that matter. All I want is for him to leave us alone and let us get on with our lives. Is that really too much to ask?"
"Under normal circumstances, no, but the situation you've described is far from that."
"I haven't told you all of it," she said, deciding to get the worst over with, and swiftly she told him of the happenings of the last week. "…so you see he's already trying to manipulate the situation by bring in his mother into the equation," she finished bitterly.
Peter didn't respond straight away, staring into the mid distance. There was a far away look on his face. Finally, he asked, "Do you have a photograph of your daughter?"
Blinking with surprise at this unexpected turn in the conversation, she handed him the photo of Aurora that she always kept in her wallet, watching with interest as he studied the child's features closely.
"She's certainly a pretty child," he mused thoughtfully. Then raising his wand, he Accioed the mornings addition of the Daily Prophet to him from where it had been lying on a side table. Rifling through it he found what he was looking for and folded the paper back to reveal a picture of Draco standing beside a podium on which was erected the latest Nimbus broomstick. Clearly this was some kind of advertising campaign in which Draco was taking part. On seeing Hermione, the Draco in the picture smiled and waved.
Peter studied the picture closely, comparing it to the photograph of Aurora he still held. At length, he turned to Hermione, a resigned expression on his face. "I'm not sure what I was hoping for, but the similarities are pretty obvious even to me, an impartial outsider. The big give away is the eye colour; all the Malfoys have had Grey eyes for as long as anyone can remember. Oh, what is it called, their Trait line?
"You mean their Line Trait," Hermione corrected automatically. "But I didn't think the Malfoys had one. I know the Weasleys do, it's their hair colour, for the Bones' it's the shape of the nose, the Forcettes the way their feet turn slightly outwards when they walk –most old families have something, but as far as I'm aware the Malfoys don't have a particular characteristic that defines all family members."
"Yes, they do, all the old families have something to denote all members related by blood. I believe it dates back from the time of Merlin himself. A safeguard, if you like, to ensure recognition of family members. The Malfoys have all had grey eyes for as long as anyone can remember."
Hermione frowned in thought, why had she never thought of this before? Then she reasoned that she had never studied Lucius Malfoy closely enough to notice the colour of his eyes. All she remembered of the man was his pointed face and blond hair, and as Aurora had not inherited either his face shape or hair colouring, she had not given the matter any more thought. True, she had worried at the time of Aurora's birth about the child's eye colour and its similarity to her fathers, but had put the matter down to genetics and dismissed it from her mind. It must have been the thing that had raised Draco's suspicions about the child's paternity. Damn the man to hell!
"I never studied Lucius Malfoy close enough to notice his eye colour," she mused thoughtfully.
"I met Lucius on a few occasions, and his eyes were the exact same shade of grey as your daughters. Even without the eyes, Draco and the child have similar facial bone structures and skin tone." Peter reverted back to his original train of thought, his eyes once more assessing the faces of the pictures lying before him.
"Unfortunately, yes," she agreed soberly as he handed back the photo of Aurora. It is those similarities that got us into this mess in the first place."
When Peter next spoke, he looked Hermione directly in the eye. "As you're no doubt aware, Draco Malfoy is an extremely powerful citizen, and a court battle between you would not only be messy, but would draw the press like moths to a flame. To put it frankly, your best chance is to settle out of court."
"Excuse me?" Hermione stared at him in shock.
"Think about it, do you really want all that publicity, not to mention the scandal that is bound to blow up? Consider your little girl, its better for her if this is settled out of court away from prying eyes." His voice was calm as he spoke, "Anyway, I wouldn't put it past someone like Draco Malfoy to play dirty and use everything and anything he can to get what he wants, and once he starts using underhand methods, you won't have a chance in Hades." He sighed as he refolded the newspaper, "It's always the same, power and connections talk no matter what the circumstances."
Hermione didn't reply as she replaced the picture of Aurora in her wallet, her mind busy churning over Peter's words. Finally, she looked up and nodded. "I see what you're getting at, but what now?"
"Now, I'll write to Mr Malfoy's solicitors, Paxton and Conroy, and request a meeting in which we can work out the terms of the settlement. There is one thing, though; in all honesty I can't see Malfoy giving in to what we want without some kind of bargaining tool. For that reason, I suggest allowing him to see the child for a certain number of hours a week, all supervised, of course. Otherwise, he's likely to instigate his own court battle and that'll never do."
Hermione felt her shoulders slump in defeat at these words. Ron's comments from the previous evening echoed loudly in her head: 'the only way you'll be able to control the situation is if you offer the ferret something in return for leaving you alone. I dunno, something like seeing Aurora a few hours a week'. At her loud and vehement protests he had shrugged and said sagely, "Better that than an outright battle for custody. I wouldn't put anything past the slimebag, so best to play him at his own game. This way if he takes it to court, it'll show you were willing to compromise from the outset and make him look like the prat he is.' They had argued for the next two hours and Hermione's mood had not been improved by Harry who had agreed with Ron's viewpoint when she had called him on the floo for support.
How had it come to this? She thought bitterly as she listened to the solicitor outlining his plans. The justice system was supposed to put everyone on a level playing field no matter how much money or influence they had, but as she was only too aware, this was rarely the case.
"It doesn't look as though I have much of a choice does it?" she muttered, once he had finished speaking, railing inwardly at the injustice of it all.
"It's best this way," the solicitor said compassionately, "better to give an inch, than be forced to part with a mile."
They spent the next hour discussing the exact terms of the agreement they would offer Draco Malfoy when both parties met. Hermione could feel a knot of tension in her stomach and prayed that this ploy would work.
"I think that's everything," Peter smiled across at Hermione. "I'll draw up the necessary paperwork and will be in touch when Malfoy's solicitors get back to me."
"Thanks," Hermione said quietly, standing up and gathering her things together, "I just hope this approach works."
"It's worth a try." He wished he could do more for this young woman who looked as though the cares of the world rested on her shoulders, but he had practiced law for far too long to be more than semi-hopeful that things would work out as she wanted them to. By the sounds of it, Draco Malfoy was bent on claiming the child as his own and if that meant marrying Hermione in order to obtain her, then so be it.
XoXoXoXo
"I'm uneasy," Peter said as the flames licked his ears. I sent the letter off a few days ago and haven't heard a word since."
"Maybe they didn't get it," Hermione suggested from her crouched position before the fireplace of her office, "I mean if they had, you would have heard something by now, surely?"
"Oh, they got it ok," he answered grimly; "I charmed my own copy of the letter to turn green when they opened their copy. It turned green in a matter of minutes of my owl delivering it to them. This is most unlike them. If Paxton and Conroy are anything, it is efficient. Is Draco Malfoy in the country at the moment?"
"As far as I'm aware. I'm not sure as I've only just returned to work after a few days away." She fiddled absently with a loose thread on her cuff as she spoke.
"Well, I'll let you know as soon as I hear back from them," the solicitor promised, still looking perplexed.
"Thanks," Hermione stood up. There was a faint pop and Peter's head disappeared from the fire, which flickered briefly and then died.
She sighed as she returned to her desk and the mounting of paperwork that awaited her attention. Peter was right; this silence was unnerving. She had expected that Draco would storm round to see her the moment he got the letter, but there had been nothing. Reaching for a quill, she wondered if she and Peter were reading too much into the situation and that maybe he was out of the country. It would certainly explain his lack of reaction.
As she sorted through the piles of parchment on her desk, she thought back to the past few days which she and Aurora had spent at Harry and Ginny's new home in the Yorkshire dales. The two had very recently bought the house, deciding to rent out their newly decorated flat. It had been a very enjoyable break, but most of all, it had been free of Draco Malfoy or anyone associated with him. Reluctantly, she turned her attention to her workload, putting to the back of her mind her niggling worries about his continued silence.
The rest of Hermione's day passed swiftly, full as it was of her teaching rounds, and two clinics. By the time 6:00 rolled round, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep. What was worse, she could feel the start of a headache coming on, and hoped it wouldn't turn into a full fledged migraine.
"Phew, that was one long clinic," Alice Cartlidge, one of the other healers sighed, "It must have been even more tiring for you, Hermione, seeing as you've been away."
"You're telling me," Hermione agreed, standing up and stretching, "I think my body's forgotten the meaning of rest."
"It's always like that when you've been away for a few days," Alice sympathised. "The body takes a while to adjust to the pace of things. I'll finish up here if you like."
"Thanks," Hermione smiled at her before leaving the consulting room with a sigh of relief. Her body ached with tiredness and she was more than ready to leave for the day.
Twenty minutes later, she made her way down the broad corridor from her department, relieved to be going home at last. She would pick Aurora up from Molly Weasley's and then head home. She wondered how Aurora's first day at Kingswood Primary hat been, and felt a pang of regret that she hadn't been able to pick her up from school on such an important day.
She acknowledged to herself that the move had been necessary even though it was near the end of the school year. Andromeda Tonks's nursery was somewhere Draco had unlimited access to Aurora, and that was something Hermione could not allow. The man was a snake who used any means possible to get what he wanted and direct access to Aurora was something which would spell trouble if allowed to continue. He didn't know of the location of Aurora's new school, and Hermione intended to keep it that way. Anyway, she reasoned, it was time Aurora started school, and Kingswood Primary was known for its excellence.
Pushing open the heavy front doors of the hospital, Hermione stepped out into the warm evening air. She could hear birdsong in the trees around her as she made her way down the drive to the Apparation point to one side of the curved drive. Stepping off the path, she crunched her way over the grass to the side of a gnarled old tree which marked the apparition point. Coming to a stop, she prepared to disapparate when something seized her from behind.
For a split second Hermione thought she was imagining things, but the vice like grip of whatever was holding her soon put pay to this idea. A moment later, she knew she had disapparated but couldn't for the life of her work out how and to where. As her feet found solid ground once more, she felt fear rise in her and forced her body round to face whatever was holding her. Then she felt her knees almost give way as she was released. She staggered backwards and when she had regained her balance, stared at the man standing before her, eyes glittering with fury.
Draco Malfoy tossed aside the invisibility cloak he had been wearing and stalked towards her, menace in every movement.
"Surprised to see me?" he sneered in a low voice. "Had you hoped I'd fallen off the face of the earth?"
"No…no, I…I, of course not," Hermione stammered as her bemused mind tried to process what had happened.
"That's good," he drawled, "for we've a long evening ahead of us, and it won't do to tire of one another's company already, will it?"
"Draco, I don't know what you're playing at, whatever it is, I refuse to be a part of it," she gabbled, her mind still grappling with the events of the last few seconds. She hoped she didn't sound as nervous as she was feeling.
He laughed a hard cruel laugh which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
"Well my dear Hermione, right now you've no other choice open to you so I suggest that you do as asked."
"And if I don't?" she found herself challenging.
He shrugged, and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "You will, oh by Merlin, you will! Take a seat."
For the first time since arriving in this unknown destination, Hermione glanced round her. They were standing in a large room lined with bookshelves. The evening sun glinted in through French windows while a mahogany desk stood to one side. Above the desk hung an old tapestry worked in gold and silver thread, which she saw at a glance was a sprawling family tree, similar to that which had once hung in the drawing room of 12 Grimauld Place.
"Where are we?" she asked trying not to show the slight apprehension she was feeling.
"Malfoy Manor," came the terse response, "I repeat, please have a seat."
There was a note of underlying steel in these words and Hermione decided it was probably best not to antagonise him any more than was necessary. She walked across to the leather sofa he was indicating, perching warily on the edge, eyes watching his every movement.
"Good, now that wasn't too painful, was it?" he asked silkily, picking up a sheath of parchment and to her disquiet, seating himself in the armchair opposite her.
"Look, I'm a busy woman, so if you could please tell me what you want…" She fell silent at the sneer playing about his mouth.
"Oh, not so busy you couldn't spare time to pay a few visits to a solicitor," he laughed again, "Reading this letter, I'd say you had plenty of time on your hands. It's certainly well written, and the research that must have gone into it!" He raised finely arched brows in mockery as he skimmed through the sheath of parchment in his hand.
Hermione took a deep breath and swallowed nervously. She realised now that Peter and she had been right to worry about Draco's lack of response after receiving Peter's letter. She knew instinctively that if she was going to come out of this confrontation in one piece, she would have to remain calm. To judge from his behaviour so far, Draco's fury had cooled into something far more dangerous than mere anger.
"Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself?" he challenged, throwing the letter onto the desk beside him with a careless flick of the wrist.
"I've plenty to say," she countered quietly, "but I doubt that you'll want to hear any of it, so I see no point in trying to reason with you."
"That, my dear, is where you are wrong. You are not leaving this house until you and I have sorted a few things out. We'll start by you explaining to me the exact reasons why you felt the need to involve a solicitor in our private affairs."
Hermione could feel her own temper start to simmer at the condescending note in his voice.
"It's all in there," she jabbed a finger at the parchment Draco had thrown onto the desk a few moments earlier, "If you'd care to read it, you'll find all the answers to your questions in it."
"That, as we both know, is a load of rubbish. Trumped up nonsense by a solicitor who has nothing better to do with his time than wangle money from people who can barely keep up with their day to day expenses, let alone pay the exorbitant fees he demands," he shot back.
This was too much, on top of the sneers and condescension; he was now denigrating her finances. Hermione clenched her hands into fists to keep her temper in check; nothing would be achieved if she lost her cool.
In a tightly controlled voice, she bit out, "For your information, the reasons listed in that letter are perfectly true. I don't want my daughter to have contact with the likes of you; not to put too fine a point on it, I don't trust you, never have done and never will do."
To her disquiet, he simply smiled in response. "Nice to know where I stand; keep going."
Slightly wrong footed by his calm facade, she went on, "As I was saying, I don't trust you, I don't want you anywhere near my child, and if it takes a court battle to get that through your skull, then so be it."
His expression did not change as he sat watching her; on the contrary, a smile Hermione did not like was playing about his mouth.
"I see," he drawled, "would you care to enlighten me of the reasons you don't trust me?"
"I don't think it's necessary."
"On the contrary, it's very necessary, in fact so necessary, that you aren't leaving here until you've explained your reasons to me and if that takes all night then so be it. I'm in no hurry." He sat back, eyes glittering.
"You may not be in a hurry, but I am," she snapped back, "some of us have commitments you know, but then in retrospect, I doubt you've ever heard of the word 'commitment.' I know your sort don't place much emphasis on such paltry values." She knew it was childish to antagonise him like this but she couldn't help it.
"Your reasons please," he replied in an unflappable drawl, crossing one denim clad leg over the other.
Hunching her shoulders, Hermione knew the time had come to show him what she was made of, to prove to him that she was no walk over and that she had no qualms in a court battle if it meant that he would leave her and Aurora in peace.
Taking a deep fortifying breath she said, "I don't trust someone who had to resort to rape to get me into bed and who then fled to America because he was afraid of the consequences of his cowardly actions."
Her words, rather than igniting the anger that lay beneath the surface beneath his carefully constructed calm, merely resulted in a shrug of his shoulders. His eyes however, held a thoughtful expression as he surveyed her pale face. Then getting up, he moved to a book case located to one side of the room and from the top shelf, lifted down a shallow bowl with runes round the edges. Placing the tip of his wand to his temple he frowned for a moment in concentration and then drew the wand away. Hermione could see a silvery strand of thought clinging to the wand tip. This he deposited in the dish before turning to her.
"I presume you've used a Pensieve before?" he asked.
"Of course I have."
"Right, come on then. It's time you saw for yourself exactly what happened that night."
"What? You want me to enter into your thoughts? No way. Anyway, I've seen it all before, Harry let me borrow his Pensieve a few years ago so I could see exactly what happened." Hermione swallowed nervously, refusing to let her mind dwell on what she'd witnessed in the Pensieve and the confusion she had felt afterwards.
"Did he now?" Draco smiled mirthlessly, "how very interesting. Ah well, another reminder won't do you any harm. Actually, by the look of you, it may do you some good. There are things that you clearly didn't see in your memory of that night which you need to be aware of. I don't want any more misunderstandings about this. Come."
"I don't see the point; I've already witnessed what happened that night, so if you don't mind…"
"Scared, Hermione? Scared that what I'm about to show you will shatter all your carefully built up hatred and elusions about me? You know, I never considered you as the cowardly type. I guess we live and learn." His lips twitched in a half smile.
Hermione frowned in thought; what was it that he wanted her to see? She remembered only too well what had happened when she had watched the events of that night in Harry's Pensieve and doubted there was anything that Draco could show her that would excuse his behaviour. Still… She felt a niggling doubt start to eat at her. Maybe it would be better to do as he asked. If nothing else, it would put this matter to rest for once and for all and prove him to be the conniving cheat he was.
"Fine then, but I warn you, this had better be worth it."
"Oh, it will be, I assure you," he replied softly.
Standing up, she moved across the room to the desk and looked at the silvery substance in the Pensieve.
"Ready?" asked a smirking Draco from beside her. At her nod, he counted down, "Three, two, one!"
Leaning forward both touched a finger to the silvery contents of the Pensieve and Hermione felt the world around her shift. She was pitched forward face first into the bowl and for a few seconds there was nothing more than blackness. In a moment, however, her feet found solid earth once more and she opened her eyes.
Blinking slightly in the bright light, she glanced round her, recognising her surroundings instantly. She was standing in the great hall among Dumbledore's guests on the night of his retirement party. A touch on her arm made her turn her head to see Draco standing beside her.
"This way," he said into her ear and led her through the crowd surrounding Dumbledore. Soon she could see herself, Ron and Harry standing with a couple of other ex-students chatting happily. Draco, however, lead her round the laughing group to where a figure was standing slightly apart talking to the greasy haired Professor Snape.
The Draco of five years ago was nodding politely but not really listening to the potions master, his mind clearly somewhere else. His eyes were fixed on a brown haired witch not too far away. Almost in slow motion, the Hermione of five years ago placed the glass she was holding on to a side table so she could greet another friend. Hermione felt herself tense in readiness for what was about to happen next. The pressure of Draco's fingers on her arm increased, and she realised with a jolt that he was almost as nervous a she.
As quick as a flash, the Draco in the memory moved over to the side table on which seconds earlier, Hermione had placed her glass, the present Hermione and Draco following in his wake. In a moment, the two were standing right behind him, and Draco, taking Hermione's chin, turned her head so she had a clear view over his past self's shoulder. Realising that she had not seen events from this angle before, she leaned forward as the Draco in the memory drew a small bottle from his pocket and breaking the seal with a muttered oath, proceeded to pour a few drops of its contents into Hermione's almost full glass of wine, while pretending to choose a glass of wine from the laden table.
"Look at the bottle," The present Draco hissed into her ear.
Hermione looked more closely at the small bottle and almost did a double take. There, nestling in the palm of the Draco from five years ago was…no it couldn't be. She gave herself a good pinch, before focusing once more on the bottle in the blond's hand which he was now recorking, while helping himself to a glass of red wine with the other hand.
"It can't be," she gasped out, turning to stare at the man standing beside her, "it just can't be. I mean I would've known…I would've realised….I…"
"You had drunk rather a lot that night, remember?" Draco returned with a shrug, "I presume you've seen the rest of what happened that night?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go."
She felt herself rising into the air and a moment later, found herself back in the present, standing in Draco's study staring down into the Pensieve, the contents of which winked up at her in the evening light.
Staggering over to the desk chair, she sank into it, her mind whirling.
"It can't be," she repeated again, "you must have changed that memory in some way to make it look as though…."
"In that case, let's go into your memory of that night shall we?" he shot back, as he touched his wand to the contents of the pensive and transferred the memory back into his head, "Anticlimactic I know, but yes, all I used on you that night was the standard Marshall calming draft, not the elicit date rape potion you imagined. Sorry to disappoint!"
"No," she denied again faintly, "I don't believe it, this just can't be."
"Well, it is, so get used to it." Draco's voice was hard and flat and laced with bitterness.
Getting up, Hermione walked across to the windows, her mind and brain numb. She stared out unseeing on to the neatly laid out gardens before her, trying to come to terms with what she had just witnessed. A calming draft, a simple Marshall calming draft. That was all he had used. Even if she hadn't seen the label on the side, she would have recognised that bright red bottle anywhere; it was the Marshall Trade mark. It was a widely used potion and available at any apothecary. She even had a few vials of the stuff in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom at home, and occasionally used it to help her relax after a long day at work. She swallowed, feeling as though she'd had the wind knocked out of her by an enthusiastic bludger. She had seen Draco break the seal on the bottle before tipping two drops into her wine glass, and knew for a fact that once broken, the bottles could not be resealed. This ruled out the possibility that he had tampered with the potion in some way, which could only mean that…
"Hermione, are you ok?" Draco's voice broke into her jumbled thoughts and she started.
"Fine," she answered in a wooden voice, slowly turning to face him.
"I'm sorry to have sprung it on you like this, but I'd honestly thought you knew. It was only when I read the letter from your solicitor that I realised you were under the impression I had," he grimaced, "Well…that I'd administered an illegal potion so I could…have my way with you."
Seating herself on the leather sofa beside her, Hermione stared back at him from glazed eyes. "I don't remember any of what happened that night," she revealed, "all I knew afterwards was that you had…that we had…."
"Slept together?" he shrugged. "So naturally you jumped to the only plausible conclusion," he completed her train of thought, "that I had deliberately given you a potion to knock you out and then raped you. Did it never occur to you that the amount of alcohol you had consumed was the reason for your memory lapse?" At her head shake he went on, "I thought not. No, I had to be the one who got the blame for it and why? Because I'm evil incarnate, I'm a big bad ex-Slytherin whose sole aim in life is to drug women and rape them…"
"No," she interrupted, "no, I just assumed…"
"That's just it, Hermione, you assumed. You had no concrete evidence so you assumed the worst as always." He sighed deeply and then in a quieter voice continued, "It doesn't matter now anyway. All that matters is that you and I marry so that Aurora can claim her birthright and have what all children deserve, loving parents and a secure environment in which to grow up."
Hermione's mind was still busy grappling with the implications of Draco's recent revelation and in a last ditch attempt to prove her case, she asked, "So why did you run off to America the morning after the party? Only someone who has something to hide runs away as you did."
He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose in a weary gesture, "I didn't run away. I went to America on Dumbledore's orders, he needed an Order member to keep track of Voldemort's movements in America and when Angelina Johnson pulled out at the last minute, Dumbledore asked me to go instead."
"Why? I didn't know you were in the Order."
"Well, sorry for not informing you earlier," he replied dryly. "Anyway, I was the one who raise least suspicion as everyone knows I have business interests out there."
"That was convenient!" she shot back, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"Actually it wasn't convenient in the least. You try being asked to pack up and go to another country with literally a few hours notice and see how you like it. If you don't believe me, ask Dumbledore. Maybe he'll have better luck in convincing you than I did."
"Angelina's father was taken ill at the time," Hermione remembered, ignoring his last remark. "So why didn't you return from America when the war finished?" she continued relentlessly.
"I'd already been out there for over two years and in that time, had built a life for myself, plus mother was happy there, what was there to come back to? But Hermione, if I'd known about Aurora…if you had contacted me when you were pregnant, I would have dropped everything and come back regardless of what anyone said."
Hermione had no answer to that so said nothing.
Draco then went on, "Anyway, we're veering from the subject at hand. None of that matters any more. What matters now is Aurora, and Hermione; I'll be damned before I walk out of my daughter's life. As I said to you before, marriage between us is the only viable option."
Hermione blinked at the change in topic and shook her head which had started to ache, making thought impossible. "Look, I need to come to terms with all this," she waved a hand at the Pensieve still sitting on the desk, "I need to…well, get used to it and…"
"You mean you need to try and disprove what I've shown you," he challenged, eyebrows raised in mockery. "You want to see if you can pick holes in my version of events. Well go ahead and try."
"No, it's not that," she denied. "It's just that I need time to get used to all this. Once I've sorted things out in my own mind, then maybe we can come to some formal arrangement regarding the amount of time you can spend with…"
The sound of Draco smacking his hand on to the desk halted her and she stared at him wide eyed.
"You don't get it, do you, Hermione? I will never be content with simply spending a few hours a week with my daughter, I want to acknowledge her to the world as mine, to play a key part in her life as her father and not one of her 'uncles'."
Hermione could feel the headache start to increase in severity , a tight band of pressure pressing inwards making thought almost impossible, and knew that if she didn't get away soon, she would do or say something she would later regret. She was desperately tired and needed time to digest and examine the revelations of the evening. She also needed to borrow Harry's Pensieve again and, using her own memory, go over in minute detail what had happened that night. It was possible, however remotely, that Draco had tampered with that memory. Luckily for her, her own memory of that night was still in Harry's Pensieve from two years ago. He had stopped using it after Voldemort's demise and neither of them had thought to remove her memories from it.
"I'm tired and think it best we postpone this conversation until another day," she got to her feet, "I'm sorry about this, but there's no point in discussing this further when we're both so overwrought, it won't get us anywhere."
He snorted, "No, I think we should get things clear here and now. It's quite simple really, you tell this Peter Briggs fellow to sod off and that'll be that. We don't need some inquisitive lawyer poking his nose into things that aren't his concern. Besides, the reasoning in that letter is untrue as you now know, so it's worthless anyway. Then we can put this unpleasantness behind us and move on. Soon, you and I will announce our engagement in the Daily Prophet, and once we're married, we can begin life as a family."
The room had started to revolve slowly around Hermione, she gripped the arm of the sofa beside her to keep herself from falling. The pain in her temples was steadily increasing and it felt as though a sledge hammer was being pounded repeatedly against the inside of her skull, making her close her eyes with the pain. One of her rare but virulent migraines was coming on fast and she knew that if she didn't take the potion that controlled it soon, the pain would become too much.
"Right," she mumbled, not having registered his words, "now I must go."
"You look tired, here let me help you." Draco slid an arm round her as she made to move towards the fireplace, "I'm sorry for bombarding you like this but you had to know, Hermione."
"Hmm."
"Don't worry about anything; I'll take care of it all, ok?"
A particularly sharp blow of the hammer in her head made her wince and she mumbled, "Ok, whatever."
Reaching the fireplace, she grabbed a fist of Floo powder from the jar on the mantel piece, and dropped it onto the neatly piled logs, watching as they instantly burst into flame.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Draco asked, watching her with concern.
"No, I'll be fine," she replied faintly. Then stepping into the flames, she called "The Burrow," and was whisked away in a whoosh of green flame.
XoXoXoXo
Smiling in satisfaction, Hermione placed the last of the neatly labelled potion samples into the rack and sat back. It was done; the first batch of the nerve fixing potion Isabel, James and she had tested three weeks ago was now complete. The samples would be introduced to the International Association of Healers at the annual conference in a few weeks time.
Getting up, she stretched and glanced at her watch. She had been in the lab for the last few hours, putting the final touches to the potion that James and Isabel had spent the last few weeks brewing. Walking across to the large south facing floor to ceiling windows, she looked out on to the grounds of the hospital, glad that the potion had finally been finished. She had agreed to finish cooling and bottling the valuable potion for Isabel who had a particularly heavy outpatient clinic and was unable to finish the potion as planned. She took in the vista of green fields and trees that surrounded the hospital, revelling in the feel of the gentle breeze blowing in through the partially open window.
Her mind as it often did these days, went back to her last encounter with Draco two days ago and the revelations of that evening. She sighed as she thought about the memory of that night almost five and a half years ago. No matter how many times she visited that memory, the results had always been the same; the potion that Draco had added to the drink was always the clear and tasteless Marshall calming draft. She had even got Harry and Ron (much to their discomfort) to visit the memory. She had simply instructed them to look closely when Draco had added the potion to her glass – something that both had agreed to do with enthusiasm.
She doubted she would ever forget the looks on both faces as they had emerged from the memory white and trembling. Like herself they had been unable to believe what they had seen and so had revisited the memory in the hope their eyes had been playing tricks on them. They had even resorted to getting one of the other Aurors who had specialised in memory analysis to look at the memory. He had informed them that it was indeed genuine which ruled out the possibility that Draco had tampered with it, not that this would have been possible, the memory having been stored in Harry's home. Finally all three had been forced to concede that what they had witnessed was indeed the truth; Draco had given Hermione nothing more than a few drops of a widely used and popular calming draft.
A knock on the door made her turn round and she called, "Come in!"
The door was pushed open by a weary Isabel who crossing the spacious lab, sat down in the only arm chair by the unlit fireplace.
"Those outpatient clinics seem to get harder and harder," she breathed, setting down her brief case, "how's the potion going?"
"All done," Hermione replied, waving at the rack of vials sitting on the spacious lab table in the middle of the room, "it's ready to be introduced to the IAOH. I'm sure it'll be a success."
"I sincerely hope so," the other woman responded, "Merlin knows we've spent enough time developing and testing it. By the way, congratulations."
"Err thanks," Hermione frowned bemusedly, "but it wasn't all that difficult you know and didn't take too long."
"Really?" The other woman's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I would have thought it wouldn't be exactly easy. Things being the way they were before."
"Oh, no, it didn't take much of my time. I think the key is having a light hand. Admittedly, it takes a lot of concentration, but the end result was definitely worth it." Hermione shrugged as she began to clean up the apparatus she had used.
"I'll bet it was," Isabel shot Hermione a sardonic smile, "You are a dark horse, though; fancy not even giving us a hint."
"There was nothing to tell," a puzzled Hermione replied as she gathered and sorted her notes, "it's just one of those things, you either can do it, or you can't, I don't think its something that can be learned."
"Hmmm, perhaps not. I wouldn't mind having some of that know how," Isabel smiled, "It would have made my younger days much less fraught with anxiety I can tell you. Ah well, that's life I suppose."
"Oh, but Isabel, you do know how, you're certainly better than me at such long winded projects. I can do it but don't have the patience required for such finicky processes."
"Excuse me? Who says I am better than you at such things?"
"Well, no one, I suppose. I just assumed you enjoyed potion brewing-"
"Potion brewing? What are you talking about? I was talking about your engagement." Isabel gave Hermione a worried look as though questioning her sanity.
"What engagement?" It was Hermione's turn to look concerned as she surveyed the other woman. She may not have slept much these last two nights, but that didn't mean she couldn't spot delusion when she saw it.
"Your engagement. You know, the one that was announced in the Daily Prophet this morning."
"What?"
Sighing deeply, Isabel rummaged in her briefcase and pulled out a rumpled copy of that days Daily Prophet. Flicking through it, she folded it back to page nine, and handed it to Hermione.
"This should jog your memory."
Taking the paper, Hermione stared down at the page and saw that it was the weekly list of births, deaths and marriages/engagements that the Prophet still insisted on publishing. Scanning the columns she let out a gasp as Isabel's meaning became clear. There, at the top of the Marriages/engagement column was the announcement, 'Engagement of Draco Andreus Malfoy to Hermione Jane Granger; wedding date to be announced.'
To make things worse, at the bottom of the page there was an article entitled 'Wizarding Worlds best Known Bachelor Decides to Tie the Knot!'
Sitting down heavily on a lab stool, Hermione, heart sinking, scanned the article:
'Last night, the prophet received news that the world's most popular bachelor has finally decided to settle down.
'Draco Malfoy, aged twenty-five, and the last of the Malfoy line, announced this morning that he was engaged to Ms Hermione Granger, also twenty-five, and that he was going to legally adopt her child from a previous marriage as his own.
'Ms Granger, a well-known Hanwell's Healer who was instrumental in bringing down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and close friend of Harry potter himself, was unavailable for comment. However, the news has been received with delight by members of Draco's family. His mother, Narcissa Black Fitz-Gerald, commented "I am absolutely delighted by this wonderful news. Hermione is a lovely girl and she and my son are eminently suited. I look forward to welcoming both her and her enchanting little girl into the family."
'The Prophet has as yet no details of Ms Granger's child, but we are endeavouring to rectify this and will keep you informed.'
Hermione laid down the paper with a shaking hand, shock draining her face of colour.
She couldn't believe this, how could Draco do this and expect to get away with it? Then her mind went back to a few days ago and she winced; what had she agreed to while she had been suffering from that dratted migraine? She resisted the urge to scream in frustration.
"Are you ok?" a concerned Isabel enquired, getting up and coming to stand beside her, "You look shocked."
"I need to find…That is, I have to talk to…I…" Hermione began but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Enter," Isabel called, and the door was pushed open by one of the hospital receptionists.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Healer," she addressed Hermione, "but there's a lady downstairs who insists on seeing you. I explained you were busy but she said it was urgent. She had a little girl with her."
"It isn't a reporter, is it?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Oh, no," the receptionist smiled, "A few reporters tried to get in this morning, but Sir Pinfold threatened to bring charges against the Daily Prophet for disturbance of the peace, as this is a hospital, if any more of them were spotted lurking around. That got rid of them ok."
Both Hermione and Isabel smiled.
"Right, I'll come down then." Hermione said, gathering her things together with not quite steady hands.
"The lady's waiting in the South Waiting Room." The receptionist told her as she turned and departed.
"Would you like me to come with you?" Isabel asked in a rare show of concern, "You know, just in case."
"Thanks," Hermione forced a smile, "but I'm sure I'll be fine."
"If you're sure." Isabel nodded as she shut the door of the lab after them and warding it before walking away.
As she made her way down the corridor, Hermione's mind churned incoherently. She couldn't think who would seek her out at this time of the day; maybe Ginny?
Soon she had arrived at the South Waiting Room and, taking a deep breath, pushed open the door.
"Hermione, there you are!" Molly Weasley greeted in relief, getting to her feet, "When I read the paper I thought it best to pick madam here up from school and bring her here." She jerked her head at the small figure standing behind her, busily rifling through a children's magazine. "I wouldn't put anything past those Daily Prophet reporters and thought it best to get her out of harms way. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you." A slightly hurt look crossed her face as she finished speaking.
"Mummy, do you work here?" Aurora asked, dropping the magazine and winding her arms around her mothers waist.
Hermione didn't answer at once, instead kneeling down and hugging her daughter fiercely.
"Yes, darling." Standing up she addressed Molly, "Thanks for picking Aurora up from school. Shall we go to my office? We won't be interrupted in there."
She led the way out of the room, Aurora scampering along beside her, down various corridors and up stair cases until they reached her office.
"This place is like a labyrinth," Molly commented, following Hermione into her office.
"Oh, you soon learn your way round." Shutting the door she ushered the older woman into a chair and, seating herself, drew Aurora on to her lap.
"So," Molly began, "you're getting married?"
Hermione didn't answer as she ran distracted fingers through Aurora's curls. "I don't know…That is…I…Oh, Molly, its all such a mess!" she finally burst out, lifting her gaze to meet that of the older woman.
Molly studied the nervous young woman before her, and then said, "Why don't you tell me everything? Start at the beginning and don't leave anything out. I always find it's best that way."
Hermione nodded as she handed Aurora a blank piece of parchment and a pen, watching as the child settled herself at her desk and began to draw. Then taking a deep breath, she began to explain the whole sorry tale, from the night of Dumbledore's retirement to the morning's newspaper announcement.
She talked for a good ten minutes in which the older woman simply sat and listened, not interrupting.
Finally, when Hermione had talked herself into silence, she spoke. "Wow, that is one complex mess. You know, to be honest, I had always suspected that," she shot a significant look at Aurora, "Well, that she was his. As you say, the eyes are the big give away. Everyone born of that family has grey eyes. No, I'm not surprised in the least. What does surprise me is that he wants to do the honourable thing and marry you. Mind you, he was part of the Order so can't be all bad."
"I know, but that still doesn't make it right," Hermione protested, "I don't love him, and I'm sure he doesn't love me. The only reason he's willing to marry me is so that he can acknowledge Aurora as his."
"I can see that it's very difficult for you," the older woman empathised, "but Hermione, sacrifices do have to be made in life. You both love your child and would do anything for her. Surely that counts for something?"
"What so you're saying I should do as he asks and marry the git? Are you mad?"
Mrs Weasley sighed deeply. "Hermione, I'm much older than you are and have seen life for what it is. I've lived through two wars and watched my own brothers die at the hands of Death Eaters. I've also lived in Wizarding society all my life and know full well the rules and stipulations by which it is governed. All I'm saying is think; take a step back and think of your child and not of yourself. Think about her future, and how you being single will effect her as she grows up. She's already being discriminated against at nursery school because of it, imagine what it'll be like when she reaches Hogwarts. Let's say for an instant she ends up in Slytherin which is perfectly possible. Do you really think they'd let her forget about her parentage? People, most especially children, are cruel, and it's only the fittest who learn to swim with the tide. Your child will need every advantage she can get and by refusing to marry, you're depriving her of a father -- not to mention security."
"Draco Malfoy isn't all bad. He did a lot for the order, even moved to America on Dumbledore's orders. He can't help being a Malfoy just as you can't help being Muggle-born. He's done the honourable thing in proposing marriage to you – most wizards in his situation would have turned tail and run. By marrying him, you'll not only be giving your daughter stability and security, but yourself as well. I know how much you scrimp and save to make ends meet and the toll it's taking on you. Marriage to him will ensure that you never have to worry about finances again."
There was a long silence when she finished speaking, and Hermione began to twist the material of her robes between her fingers.
"I understand where you're coming from," she finally said, "I really do. It's just that I can't trust him. All those years of dislike at school and then what happened at Professor Dumbledore's party, well, it isn't conducive to trust. Oh, I accept that he used a calming draft on me that night rather than the date rape potion as I had thought, but why? Why did he feel the need to use a calming draft on me in the first place? What did he hope to gain from it?"
"No one knows the answers to those questions other than him, so I suggest you ask him and see what he has to say. But these questions aside, think about it, ok? Take it from me, there are much worse things in life than being married to Draco Malfoy. Yes, you aren't in love with the man, but that's something that can grow with time. You won't be the first woman who is marrying for reasons other than love, and certainly won't be the last. I care about you and Aurora as my own, Hermione, and can't stand back and let you throw away this chance of stability and, who knows, maybe happiness as well."
"I know," Hermione answered soberly, resisting the temptation to snort at the thought of being happy with a Malfoy, "I know that but it goes against everything I was raised to believe in. He and I hardly know one and other, let alone anything else."
"That'll come with time. I always say you never know a person until you live with them. Look at Ginny and Harry; they've supposedly known one another for years, but take it from me, she was surprised by some of his traits -- which she only discovered upon moving in with him. Give the matter serious thought. If it helps, do an Arithmantic equation to help you, I always found them useful in helping me to make decisions."
"I suppose," Hermione answered despondently.
"Think of Aurora, Hermione, think of her future." Molly said quietly looking across at the child who was currently engrossed in her drawing and paying them no heed.
"I'm trying," Hermione answered with a break in her voice, "but it's so difficult, all these years I've believed that he raped me, that he….and it turns out he didn't. I'm so confused by it all, and then this. He's determined to get his own way no matter what. Can't you see where I'm coming from?"
"Yes, I can, but I can also see where he's coming from and as hard as it is, the honest part of me actually feels sorry for him. It can't be easy to learn that you have a child you knew nothing of, and when you try to do the right thing by her, you're told to go away. I'm not saying the man's a saint," she snorted, "No, all I'm saying is that he's human. You do realise that he could accuse you of slander, don't you?"
"Yes," Hermione's tone was flat, "Ron, Harry, and I were discussing it last night, but right now I'm beyond caring. This is one big cobweb of confusion and I don't know what to feel any more."
"I can understand that. Look, I can't tell you what to do; I can only advise you based on my own experiences of people and life. At the end of the day it's your decision, but be fair to him. Don't let your past and your teenage grudges get in the way of such an important issue as this. Think of what would be best for Aurora; she's the one open to the most pain here. Now, I've taken up enough of your time already. I'll take Aurora back with me by Floo and you can pick her up from the Burrow this evening ok? It's best if you keep a low profile for a while until the reporters get bored and move on to something else."
Getting up, the older woman prepared to depart, and in a minute Hermione was alone with her thoughts. To say they were a jumbled mess would be an understatement. Standing up, she began to pace round the room, Molly's words ringing in her ears.
How would her being single effect Aurora at Hogwarts? For the first time, she admitted that the child displayed the characteristics looked for in Slytherin. She shuddered to imagine how Aurora would be treated in that house due to her parentage if she, Hermione, remained single. No, she couldn't allow such stigma to dog her daughter throughout her time at secondary school and destroy her confidence, which would have a bearing on the rest of her life.
She remembered only too well the loneliness she herself had suffered in her first two months at Hogwarts when, in a desperate attempt to show everyone she belonged in the wizarding world, she had used every opportunity she could to show off her knowledge. This tactic, rather than impressing the other students, had only served to push them away. She had spent many lowly hours crying in the girls bathrooms and being taunted and made fun of by cruel students, most of whom had been in Gryffindor, due to her lack of friends. Had it not been for her friendship with Harry and Ron, she would not be the confident young woman she was today. She could not allow her own child to go through similar agony. In her case, there would be no Harry or Ron to rescue her and give her back her confidence.
Her mind returned to the questions of the last few days: how bad could marriage to Draco Malfoy really be compared to the misery Aurora was sure to suffer if she remained single? This was the question that had plagued her every thought since she had accepted he had not raped her that night so many years ago. He would certainly provide for both Aurora's and her every need and it would be nice to let someone else take responsibility for financial matters for a change. She would of course have to lay down certain conditions, but she was sure he would agree to them. He wanted Aurora, and if that meant abiding by certain stipulations, then so be it. Anyway, he had once said that they could have single rooms if she so preferred. She would just have to make that crystal clear to him – the marriage would be a marriage by name and nothing else. If he didn't like that then there would be no marriage.
There was also the possibility of divorce to consider. It was true that divorce was rare in the wizarding world, but so what? Once the divorce had taken place, Aurora would still be protected by the Malfoy name, and she and Draco could go their separate ways. Yes, that would probably be the best course of action to take, beneficial for all concerned.
Hermione smiled as she reseated herself. Molly had certainly helped her sort her thoughts out, and although the results of her honesty were not what she would have liked, nothing was as important as ensuring Aurora's security. She knew that she would have to give the matter a lot of thought before coming to any concrete decisions and resolved to get it sorted out as soon as possible. Molly had been right, an arithmantic equation may be just the thing to help her decide what to do; an unbiased prediction based on fact and not emotion. If there had to be a marriage between her and Draco Malfoy, then it would be on her terms.
She smiled grimly as she prepared for her afternoon clinic. It was time she put her feelings aside, and decide for once and for all, the best thing to do. She would not ask any of her friends for their advice on this matter as she knew that their opinions would bias her own judgement, and that was the last thing she needed. No, she had stalled and procrastinated for long enough, it was high time she took control of her life once more, and if marriage to Draco Malfoy on a temporary basis was the only viable option, then she was determined to play him at his own game.