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In Fond Remembrance	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 22794 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the very witty and very rich JK Rowling. I do not make any make any money - from this story. I do own the computer this was typed on.

Chapter List
- 10
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- 12
Draco and Hermione set up Draco’s ensuite salon room (which would hold Hermione’s sitting room, dining room and kitchen) as “command central” in the search for a solution to Draco’s specific procreation issues. They had six months remaining to find an answer in all this “information”.

First, however, came Lyra’s 5th birthday and the event mothers everywhere met with pride and trepidation — Lyra’s first day at school.

Birthday with the Malfoys

Given more careful consideration that Lyra would, in fact, one day meet her father and his family, Hermione would have limited her daughter’s immersion into her own muggle culture and experiences. The looming disaster driving this retrospection and the underlying headache was her daughter’s upcoming birthday.
In a time B.D. (as in: before Draco) Hermione planned a day centered around Lyra’s choices. Their little nuclear family — Hermione, Rachel and Richard — would share a breakfast of the child’s favorites: flapjacks, sausage flavored with sage, fresh pineapple (an expensive treat the frugal Gryffindor limited to special occasions or illnesses), apple juice instead of milk or water and real maple syrup in a nod to Lyra’s ever-present sweet tooth (a propensity Hermione suspected — and Narcissa confirmed — came from the Malfoys). The family would then meet up with the Potters, Uncle George (under an Unbreakable Vow to behave appropriately), Uncle Blaise (who kept the secret of Lyra’s parentage from his boss every workday), Uncle Neville and Aunt Hannah for a late morning trip to Chessington’s — Hermione’s favorite amusement park in the whole of Britain. Around 3 o’clock the group would return to Hermione’s magically enlarged garden for a party of food grilled on the barbie and the traditional cake and ice cream.

Leave it to the Malfoys to detonate her plans to Kingdom Come — starting with the Malfoy she slept with most nights…

“There’s nothing wrong with Lyra’s birthday plans. She planned it and she’s been looking forward to this for almost a year.”
“A year ago she didn’t have a father.”
“She’s always had a father, Draco. She just didn’t have ‘tootsie roll pop’.”
“What is this ‘pop’? Is it like that fizzy drink you give her when she’s ill?”
“It’s slang for a father whose been wrapped around his child’s finger and your daughter certainly leads you around like a servant.”
“She’s a Malfoy; I expect nothing less. Just exercising her leadership skills. Don’t change the subject: Lyra’s birthday plans require… enhancements.”

At this point, Hermione left the neat kitchen and sat at the table where most of their meals were eaten. Head slightly bowed, she massaged the rising pain centered between her eyebrows with the thumb and index finger of her right hand — punctuated by a long, slow sigh.

“And what would you suggest?...”
“I spoke with Mother — Father’s absolute crap with children — and she suggested a few upgrades…”
“Such as?…”
“We can’t expect to fit five comfortably around this table.”
“You mean seven…”
“No, five.”
“Rachel and Richard.”
“They’re servants, Hermione. I appreciate what they do — what Richard does; Rachel can be rather unyielding and violent, if you ask me.”
“Only when provoked…”
“Malfoys do not dine with servants.”

The words “Uh-oh” trampled any others he meant to speak when her eyes went stormy brown. He’d not personally witnessed anyone but Voldemort go that long without blinking — and the Dark Lord was part snake by then.

“Rachel and Richard have been part of this family since I carried your daughter. They were with me when I brought her home and they tended her so I got two hours of sleep between feedings. They made it possible — and continue to do so — for me to earn a decent living to support myself and my daughter and they have yet to charge me what they’re worth. They’ve EARNED a place in this family.”
“Point taken,” he gulped as she dropped her wand back to its stowed and locked position, “ah… what’re your thoughts on the Manor for breakfast?”
“No. Because it will make Rachel and Richard uncomfortable.”
“Can we move the party to the Manor? There’s far more space for all the guests. We can supplement the charring of stringy meat with dishes from the kitchens…”

Looking straight through her eyes, Draco marveled at the machine called a brain whizzing in her head. He could swear clockwork gears and springs whirred as she calculated what trap lay hidden in his offer.

“Lyra loves the playground at the Manor. All the children will enjoy it…”

3-2-1…

“Fine, fine. We’ll apparate over — wait! Ginny’s pregnant… I’ll figure it out. We’ll floo over so make sure the wards are modified, the ones in the salon. I expect you and your parents to join us at the theme park.”

The “children’s benefit” pushed her over to his side.

“Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy at a MUGGLE venue!? Have you bumped that pretty head recently?”

In that instant she’d gone serious.

“Hear me out, Dragon. I’m a muggle-born. My best friend, Lyra’s godfather, is the son of a muggle-born. If your parents can’t accept that Lyra lives in both worlds, then we should end this-this-this… whatever we’re doing together.”

This solemn moment of truth departed as softly as it arrived. Crossing the distance between their chairs and their experiences, Draco tugged her up and into his embrace, snugging her into his chest with her head tucked under his chin.

“I’ll let Mother know you’ll make recommendations on clothing. Take us shopping at one of those ‘sale’ things you and Ginny always rave over? I don’t want to embarrass Lyra… or you.”
“Thank you.”

Shopping for Lucius Malfoy cured Hermione from shopping for anyone but children for half a decade.

When the big day arrived, the disaster started at her floo. Lucius’ complaints reverberated against every wall in her cottage.

“I look ri-DIC-ulous! These short trousers expose my legs! And where in Merlin’s dragging bollocks am I to carry my WAND!? You can’t expect me —”
“I can and I DO, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy! Today isn’t about YOU! It’a about our granddaughter - possibly the only grandchild we shall ever have! You will not ruin Lyra’s day and you will NOT whing and complain. Do you understand?”

From Lyra’s bedroom, where she’d gone to give the birthday girl a special wake-up kiss, Hermione chuckled at the fear replacing the indignation in Lucius’ expression.

Have to learn that technique for Draco…

“Lady Malfoy!” Hermione called out in faux surprise, “You’re early.”
“Nonsense! People of breeding are never early or late.”

Hermione let Lucius’ dig go unanswered, allowing the out-of-sorts aristocrat this small win.

“Would you like to join me? I like to give Lyra a special wake up on her birthdays.”

The tears surprised Hermione and disconcerted Lucius.

“Cissa, darling — are you…”
“Wouldn’t Draco be more appropriate?”
“No. Just us girls today. Please join us?”
“Thank you…” the grateful woman whispered, lest she break down completely, “I’ve gained a granddaughter and so much more.”
“Don’t take forever, you two. I’m used to meals served at a specific time.” the spoilt, aristocratic threw their way.

Breakfast proceeded without confrontation or snide commentary because under the table Narcissa planted the heel of her very attractive sandals on Lucius' bare-toed, sandal-clad feet after his first gaff —

“Will one of you ‘R’ people retrieve a different spoon for me? This one isn’t pure silver.”
“Their names, Lucius, are Rachel and Richard. With a Hogwarts education even a Slytherin should be able to figure out which one is which.” Hermione snapped at him.
“Lyra, please get your picky grandfather a spoon from Mummy’s buffet.”

Bouncing out of her chair the (mostly) cooperative child started towards the wooden cabinet holding her mother’s heirloom china and silverware.

“Oui, pa-pa.”
“That’s my good girl.”
“By the Gods, boy! My granddaughter is not a servant!”
“Do you want the spoon or not, Father?”

If they’d been alone, Hermione would have thanked Draco for that gambit with her entire body and heart. A flustered Lord Malfoy retained only one choice that returned his granddaughter to her chair.

“Whatever utensils are good enough for my favorite granddaughter are good enough for me.”
“I’ll be thanking you for that privately, Dragon,” Hermione sent in a hush.
“You WILL be dealing with this when we return to the Manor, Cissa,” Lucius hissed with a squeeze to Narcissa’s dress-covered nether region under the table.

To keep the peace, Draco volunteered to clean the kitchen — which meant he placed a disillusion charm on the room while his lover and daughter changed into casual clothes and sent a quick message to Wocky to “Handle it” once the cottage sat empty.

To reduce the prospect of damage — especially with a pregnant Ginny Weasley in tow — Hermione had the group meet up in a hospitality suite at the park’s 5-star lodge, Chessington Resort Hotel. Malfoys and Grangers apparated into pandemonium:
James and Albus had been at the snack table and were now buzzing around the room like World War II fighter planes in a dogfight. Half a mountain of complimentary doughnuts, tarts, chocolate-covered strawberries and sugar-loaded fizzy pop had been consumed in the last half-hour by the boys and George, who chased behind his nephews.
Ginny, with five month to go, hadn’t stopped losing her lunch — and her breakfast and supper and tea. She looped a circuit: snatch-&-grab at the unruly boys, loo with unnatural noises produced, pale-faced walk to a comfortable chair, blame game that it was all Harry’s fault and repeat ad nauseum.
Blaise, ever the pure-blood, broke Hermione’s express rule about intoxicants around the children. The open bar presented some of the finest ales, wines and whiskeys to be found anywhere. Lucius smiled for the first time today and made a beeline for the very potent — and very illegal — distillation of dragon’s gallbladder.
Harry, who just wanted to wind down from his high-stress high-risk government job as an auror, partook generously. Imbibing the sweets and mulled wine while ignoring the “red whine”, he made no effort to control his sons or accept responsibility for Lily Luna’s disruption of her mummy’s tummy.
George stopped lapping the room long enough to grab a grinning Lyra up in his arms, tossing her ceiling-ward like a rag doll.

“Happy Birthday, Little Granger!”

— to which two very territorial Malfoys objected —

“Please address my daughter by her proper name; Lyra Carina Malfoy”
“Cool your heels, Ferret senior and junior! Mini-Mione is my favorite niece, aren’t you? No need to get all puffed up. Hey Lyra! Ever seen your father as a ferret?”

— and with a nose twitch from George an albino ferret hissed and chattered on the floor for the briefest instant before returning to human form.

The little girl giggled in George’s arms.

“…DARE to change me into a…”

Draco finally caught up with himself when he heard words and not chatter exiting his mouth.

Two wands emerged, tips directed at George.

“DRACO — don’t you dare! GEORGE! Apologize to Draco!”
“But Hermione, he’s SO easy to wind —”
“GEORGE! Apologize. NOW!”
“All right, don’t get your knickers twisted.”
“Why you’re not dead is beyond me. That vow should have kicked in.”
“No it shouldn’t,” George answered while dancing away from Draco’s attempts to retrieve Lyra from Weasley-World.
“Why not?” the suspicious Gryffindor poked.
“Used a fake. New product — Break-It-Fast Fake Forearm. charmed to respond just like the real thing but without making the unbreakable vow. Pretty effective.”
“I could strangle you right now. Why don’t you take Lyra and get started? Start with the Children’s Zoo — make sure you thoroughly clean her hands when you leave — and the Monkey Garden. We’ll meet you in an hour in the Land of the Dragons at Griffin’s Galleon.”
“Galleons? Are they giving away gallons?” Draco interjected.
“And would we have to disclose their source if Hermione can’t solve your…um… problem?” Lucius added.
“It’s ‘galleon’ — as in a pirate’s ship. Not money.”
“Pity…” three Slytherins lamented in unison.

One hour later a group of children that included George, Draco and Lucius commented on the lack of appeal of Griffin’s Galleon.

“Not very sizable for a pirate ship…”
“Nor very fast…”
“I’m sure there must be something more… suitable in this bastion of mediocrity.”

James Potter had been waiting for this moment for a year.

“Can we go on that?” the child pointed.
“That” towered more than a foot or two off the ground, consisted of twisted metal in a loop that rose and fell over a very realistic looking ancient (but fake) cemetery and supported some kind of carrying box for screaming muggles.

James wanted to ride the “Vampire” roller coaster.

“Lyra’s tall enough now! Can we, Aunt Hermione?”

Hermione’s “No”, as she stared at the death trap, was shouted down by two enthusiastic “Yes”es.

“Have you two gone mental?”
“Put your claws away, Lioness. She’s ridden faster on my broom.”
“And mine.” Lucius added to the rising frustration in Narcissa’s eyes.
“She’s too small!”

Hidden behind a denial of Hermione’s objections, Lucius covertly wiggled his fingers as Draco steered Lyra to the height restriction measuring line.

“And…” Draco's voice rose in suspense, pretending the line hadn’t moved under a spell from his father, “her head passes the line!”
“She’ll slip out of the restraints!”
“Let’s not pass on that fear you have of speed and heights. She’s a Malfoy.”
“I will ensure she’s safely tucked in,” Lucius offered.

In the end, the group split up with Harry and Albus riding the smaller, slower, safer rides in Dragon Land while Draco, Lucius, George, James and Lyra conquered the “Vampire”.

Having lost the argument, a nervous Hermione, a pregnant Ginny and an overheated Narcissa found seats, healthy foods and air conditioning in the Creaky Cafe. Through the huge wall-to-wall window they kept tabs on the five “children” riding the “Vampire”, awaiting the point where the Malfoy males regained their sanity and realized the danger they exposed Lyra to — presently the only daughter/grand-daughter in the family.

“I shouldn’t have given in…”
“Draco favors his father; a stiff-necked daredevil to the last.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but Draco’s right.”

Two heads faced the pale ginger as she fought her daughter’s attempts to upset her tummy once more.

“For almost five years you’ve had final say on every decision about Lyra. If you and Draco are going to stay together, you’ll have to share those decisions. I’m guessing you overlooked this part of having a full-time bedmate?”

After a long silence, Narcissa laughed lightly.

“Don’t fret, Hermione. I’ve seen you in action — you’ll have Draco trained in no time. It only took a year with Lucius.”

The implication was obvious: More quality bed time = More pliable bed mate

Settled in contemplation of this new aspect of relationship management, Hermione relaxed into consideration of the park through the picture window and Lyra's extended family.

Once. Blaise rode the “Vampire” exactly once before depositing his liquid breakfast in the nearest rubbish receptacle; he joined Harry and Albus thereafter.
Ten times. Ten times the Malfoys, James Potter and George Weasley rode the coaster, miraculously ending up at the front of the queue each time they exited their prior ride. Until the park attendants requested they give it a rest because the ride “behaved bloody odd” while their group rode it. The women had just tucked into their salads when they heard the commotion outside the viewing window.

“Listen, you old pufta, the ticket says I control who rides and you’re done — the LOT of you. Finished!” the ride operator screamed at Lucius from half an inch away.
“How dare you take that tone with me! We’ve done NOTHING to warrant your prohibition! You are RUINING my grand-daughter’s birthday!”
“Yeah!? Well, you’re ruinin’ my RIDE! It’s not meant to go that fast! Only happens when you and the rest of these posh prats are in the seats. Bloody dangerous, is what it is! Rides never hit 160 kph — not even during testing! Bloody rails were shaking and we’ve got 40 customers tossing their lunch at First Aid Centre! You!? You lot keep riding! I’n’t that strange!? Vampie’s my girl and you’re messing with her. Off wit’ ya!”
“We will PURCHASE this sorry excuse for entertainment just to FIRE YOU if you don’t change your tone, apologize to my daughter and show us to our SEATS! You do understand spoken English — or have you been hired as a charity case!?”

The ride attendant made one call on his walkie-talkie.

Half the park lined up on both sides of the walkway to watch as Security frog-marched an obstinate Lucius and a still-yelling Draco to the nearest exit gate. In deference to their age (and George’s ability to keep his mouth shut for once) the children (and George) were transferred to Hernione and Ginny who followed “the accused” with the remainder of the birthday celebrants. A mortified Hermione led the group back to the hospitality suite to retrieve their belongings (as Lucius and Draco were no longer allowed in the park, which suited the two Malfoy males).
Before apparating to the Manor from a copse of trees in the car park, two smirking blonde wizards shut down every thrill ride in the park like falling dominoes.
The sound of noise shifting to silence ringed the property as the “Kobra”, the “Rattlesnake” and “Dragon’s Falls” gently slowed until stopped. Sprinting maintenance techs had barely reached those rides to evacuate stranded riders when a similar silence consumed the “Tomb Blaster”, the “Runaway Train”, the “Black Buccaneer” and “Tuk Tuk Turmoil”. Reformed in their attitudes about wee ones, thanks to Lyra’s influence, none of the children-sized rides were affected.

Standing in the Manor’s salon, Hermione knew devilment had occurred when Draco and Lucius materialized caught up in self-congratulations.

“What did you two do?”
“Nothing that wasn’t justified and nothing that harmed your precious ‘muggles’.”
“What Father means —”
“What did you do?” Hermione cut him off.
“After we ‘operated’ the rides, we authorized Gringott’s to purchase the place. As a present.”
“Next year, Lyra and her guests will have the park to themselves. And the employees will cater to her or be dismissed.”

Draco’s consort froze, mouth agape in shock; they’d purchased the amusement park as a birthday gift for a five-year-old.

Sighing at the backs of Lyra’s knights errant as she rejoined the party in the Manor’s garden, Hermione concluded that Malfoys — including her personal member of the wizarding world’s “Addams Family” — should never leave the asylum known as Malfoy Manor.

First Day of School with the Malfoys

After some very LOUD discussions, Hermione made her decision permanent to have her daughter attend the muggle school near their cottage (Draco had Blaise Zabini accelerate his replacement of George Weasley on Lyra’s birth certificate; didn’t matter — only Hermione’s signature would let Draco transfer Lyra to any other school). Lucius joined Draco in his litany of shortcomings with Hermione’s choice.

“Merlin, woman! She’ll be surrounded by children well beneath her station!”

“Because they’re muggles?” came back at the Malfoy head as the petite witch drew her wand.
“Because they’re commoners! Lyra’s a Malfoy and Malfoys do NOT consort with COMMONERS!”
“That’s exactly what I said,” a vindicated Draco added as commentary.
“I’m a commoner and I’ve done just fine.”
“I beg to differ, witch,” Lucius chuckled, “you are anything but common. I dare say you’re the most powerful witch of your generation and, if what I’ve seen is any indication, my granddaughter will outmatch you and her father.” and Lucius couldn’t hide the pride in his voice.

In just the last weeks, the elder Malfoy’d taught Lyra how to levitate their favorite candy from its hiding place (as Hermione had an uncanny knack of catching Lucius and Draco sneaking her sweets) and had her riding solo around the Nursery on Draco’s old training broom (after reinforcing the anti-collision spell one ride too late; he’d had to glamour the bruise on her knee). Pépé Luc — Lyra’s nickname for her adoring grandfather — planned to have Lyra tutored so she’d enter Hogwarts with 4 or 5 years of Charms, Potions and Arithmancy under her belt.

“Lyra needs to spend time with normal children.”

“You mean dullards.” Lucius translated.
“I mean muggle. The world is different now. She’ll always be a Malfoy but that will mean different experiences than you or Draco had. And she will marry one day.”
“NOT WHILE I LIVE AND BREATHE!” both Malfoy men shouted.
“She will and she might marry a muggle-born like myself. She needs these experiences before she goes to Hogwarts.”
“How do you tolerate her stubborn streak, son? If it weren’t for darling little Lyra I’d say you found another much like Astoria —”

The stinging jinx had Lucius hopping around the room cradling his exposed bum cheeks through the hole burned in his expensive trousers.

_________

And so mere few weeks after the theme park disaster, as the pensieve displayed and Lyra remembered fondly, the youngest Malfoy had a posse with her on her first day of class — her mummy, her dissatisfied pa-pa, her anxious Nana Cissa, her disdainful Pépé Luc and the Potter family; Lyra’s best friend, James, would return to his own muggle school in London in a week. Young Albus Potter spent the day with his own grandmother, Molly Weasley.

At introductions, Lyra’s family tree took a full five minutes to present instead of five seconds.

At snack time, the teacher found pumpkin juice and expensive biscuits in the cupboard instead of milk and graham squares.

At community time, Lyra barely fit in the circle surrounded by her entourage; her father and grandfather had to be restrained from slapping the hand of the little boy who tried to hold Lyra’s hand as they sat in the circle (truthfully, though, James Potter was doing the same thing on her other side).

At outdoor playtime, children who teased or pushed or played too rough with Lyra found themselves with unexplained maladies such as jelly-legs, laughing fits, uncontrollable dancing and perpetually runny noses until Lyra stood alone on the play area with only James (not that James minded — keeping Lyra safe near exhausted him).

The final straw came when Lyra’s support team (except Hermione and the Potters) produced six lunches for her, deciding the school’s lunch of sandwiches and fruit was too “pedestrian” and “lacked palate appeal”.

Hermione had a brief word with the Head of School, promising that the only child and grandchild of the Malfoys would not be bringing her overprotective but well-meaning family to class again, and corralled the group out of the school. After kissing the Potters goodbye with warm thanks for making Lyra’s day so special, she turned and read the riot act to the Malfoys.

Hermione’s ultimatum?

Comply with her intent to NOT raise Lyra as a pure-blood (which she wasn’t) child of privilege (which she was… for the time being) or lose any access to her.

“You can’t do that, Granger. She’s my daughter too!”

“And she deserves a normal childhood, one that combines your traditions and mine. If you try to control me or my choices for her, I will take her and you won’t see her again until she turns 17!”

Two contrite Malfoy males slunk off towards Hermione’s cottage, beaten by a small but powerful witch. Narcissa, however, placed a hand on Hermione’s arm to stay Hermione’s departure and temper.

“They’re quite smitten with Lyra, you realize. And with you.”

“Draco and I will eventually work this out.”
“I’m speaking of both Draco and Lucius. You’ve earned Draco’s love and Lucius’ respect — not an easy task; ask Astoria. There was a brief time when she tried but she was just too… ordinary; not really accomplished at anything — except spending money and arguing. Please forgive them — and me; we love your daughter. She’s precious to us all.”

Hermione observed Narcissa, her head processing the intimate revelations forthcoming.

“I promise we’ll behave and honor your choices for Lyra; all I ask is you consider our wishes.”

“You have my word I’ll try to do that”
“Then let’s join our wizards for lunch. Shall we punish them for an hour or so? I could certainly use an afternoon massage — couldn’t you?” and with a sly wink the aristocrat swept up the skirt of her robes, taking dainty step towards the cottage.
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In Fond Remembrance