Consequences and Complexities | By : ckllsdam Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 16345 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2 |
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and canon situations belong to the Harry Potter fandom and JKRowling. Plot and OCs are mine. I make no money from this work. |
Chapter 13 – Moving
The impromptu Malfoy family dinner had not been as awkward
or uncomfortable as Hermione had feared. The meal was, as always, superbly
prepared and beautifully presented. Lucius and Narcissa had been understandably
happy to spend a significant period of time in their son’s company; their
periodic visits to Salem had always had an undercurrent of discomfort related
to Draco’s forced exile and the secret they’d kept from him. Louisa had been
happy to soak up all the extra attention afforded by having another captive
adult in her thrall. Draco, while still a bit dumbstruck over the dramatic
events of the day, had paid rapt attention to the flow of conversation between
his parents and Hermione, and the antics of his daughter as she coyly drew
focus to herself throughout the extended meal. His own contribution to the
discussion had been surprisingly lively, given his fatigue and the turmoil he’d
suffered earlier in the day. Malfoys, it seemed, were able to rise to the
occasion to meet any social obligation with ease and grace.
As the last of the white chocolate mousse was consumed and
the final sip of espresso finished, Lucius drew Draco’s attention from his
daughter, who was now sleepily tucked into her mother’s shoulder. “While
Hermione settles Louisa down for the night, won’t you join me in my study for a
little brandy?”
The young man seemed a bit reluctant to wrest his attention
from the two curly-haired females, but assented to his father’s invitation with
a curt nod. Before departing, Draco stepped around the table to place a kiss on
the toddler’s head. “Good night, Louisa,” he whispered. “Sleep well.” He
briefly met Hermione’s eyes, giving her a hint of a smile, and turned to join
his father in the room ten meters east of their current location.
As Draco entered his father’s sanctuary, he noted that the
elder man had removed his formal robe and waistcoat and stood at his credenza,
pouring brandy into two crystal snifters, attired in rolled-up shirt sleeves
and his dark blue trousers. He’d rarely seen the man so casually dressed, but
took it as a signal that he should make himself comfortable too. The tie was
loosened, top button opened, and robe discarded in short order, and Draco
accepted the beverage handed to him by his father, who had opened the humidor
on his desk to select a fine, hand-rolled cigar.
“Would you care for a smoke, Draco?”
“No, thank you, Father.”
Lucius nodded in acknowledgment and waved a hand toward one
of the stuffed velvet chairs facing the hearth. “Have a seat; make yourself comfortable,” he offered.
Draco took the indicated spot and rested his left ankle on
his right knee, using its opposite as a prop for his snifter. “Why do I get the
feeling this is not just a friendly catch-up chat?” he prodded.
“I haven’t the slightest idea, Draco. We haven’t seen each
other in nearly two months, and our conversations over the Floo have been
necessarily brief. We haven’t really had a chance to speak privately since you…
arrived this morning.”
“Father, I’m not a malleable child any longer. I’m no
genius, but I am mature, intelligent, and observant enough to know that you and
Mother are up to something, and this is your attempt to manipulate me into
doing what you want me to do,” Draco accused.
Lucius remained silent for a moment, watching his son’s
expression intently. “What if our aims and yours are… in alignment?” he
suggested.
Draco narrowed his eyes in suspicion but refrained from
issuing a verbal response. He nodded, silently encouraging his father to
continue.
“In the three years that you’ve been away, you and I have
had more conversations of substance than in all the years before. Even though
you still sometimes try to hold your feelings close, you can’t successfully hide
them from me. The questions you asked, the things that
concerned you, were all very telling to someone who knows you as well as I do.
I can see, and have known for a long time, that you have strong feelings for
her. And I want to help you get what you want.”
Draco remained silent, staring into the amber liquor that
swirled in crystal, warmed by the heat of his hand. “Why?” he asked, voice
strained and barely audible.
Lucius’ expression appeared to be almost insulted. “Why not? You’re my son.” He paused, rose from his seat and
turned his back to his son, looking out at the expanse of lawn under the great
picture window. He continued quietly, “I want you to be happy. I love you.”
Draco swallowed hard. His father was not a terribly
demonstrative man. He could count on his hands the number of times he’d seen
his father display or share raw emotion and caring. Quick reflection reminded
him that the vast majority of those events were, in fact, reasonably recent, almost
exclusively within the last three years. Still, for him to state his affection
so openly, so blatantly, was not something to be ignored. “I know, Papa. I love
you, too,” he responded softly, using the endearing name he’d called the man as
a child. “I understand that you want to help me, and I appreciate that.
Honestly, I do. But I need to be my own man now. I need to find my own way in
the world. I have a lot to make up for, and I’ve got some goals for my life. It
will be a long time before you’re ready to retire, and I’ve got time before I
need to take my place in the family business – and I intend to – but I’ve still
got some healing to do and some things I need to prove to myself before I’m
ready to do that.” Draco paused, realizing that he hadn’t addressed the main
item his father had raised. “And with regard to my… interest in anyone, as much
as I might hope for a real relationship with her, she’s struggling with the
idea of just being friends, so I think that ship has sailed.”
Lucius met his son’s eyes with a twinkle in his own and an
amused grin on his face. “She’s not as indifferent as you think, Draco. We’ve
formed… quite a bond with her in the last three years, and I venture to say
that I know her nearly as well as I know you. Your mother and I… would not
object to a more formal arrangement between the two of you.”
Draco laughed aloud at that. “Is that what you two are up
to? You want me to have a ‘formal arrangement’ with Hermione?” He shook his
head. “What in Merlin’s name makes you think there’s even the slightest
possibility of that happening?”
The elder man reclaimed the seat beside his son and
valiantly resisted the urge to smirk. “You’re a charming young man. She’s a
lovely young woman, who happens to have given you a daughter. Admittedly,
circumstances were less than ideal, but the fact remains that the two of you
will forever be linked by your little girl. Hermione has shown incredible
capacity for kindness, forgiveness, and tolerance. If you court her properly,
I’ve little doubt that you could be… successful.”
“Father, how much wine did you have with dinner?” Draco
scoffed. “Our daughter is tangible, living proof of the horrors I committed
against her. I’m more aware than anyone alive of her capacity for forgiveness
and the innate goodness of her heart, and I accept that she and I may find our
way to friendship someday, but the likelihood that she’d be able to forget what
I did to her enough to entertain the thought of an actual relationship with me
is just about zero.”
Lucius couldn’t help but note the tone of desperate sadness
and defeat in his son’s voice and wanted nothing more than to tell him he
needn’t worry, that everything would work out. That message, however, would be
inadvisable for countless reasons and he held his tongue for a moment, thinking
about what he might say to assuage Draco’s concerns while not tipping his hand.
“I repeat my offer. I’ll help you.”
“How could you possibly help me court Hermione? She feels
what she feels. I know her well enough to know that she won’t be manipulated.”
“I’m not talking about manipulation. I’m talking about
advising you on the most effective ways to get her to notice you in a positive
light. The woman has been living with us for three years, for Merlin’s sake. I
know her and what she responds to and rejects. I swear on my wand, I can help.
Have a little trust, Draco. Your old man is not unschooled in the ways of
romance, and I’d be most amenable to the idea of… coaching you.”
“You mean like Cyrano to my Christian?”
“Well, not exactly, as Cyrano is ultimately a tragedy of
love found too late, but in the limited fashion of aiding your actions, yes.”
“Hmm, maybe that wasn’t the best example, but I think I
understand what you’re saying. You’d really be willing to help me win Hermione?
Again, I have to ask, why?”
“Again, I say why not? You feel for her. Your mother and I
love her as one of our own. You already share a child. We think you’d be a most
successful and appropriate… match.”
“You’ve given this some thought,” Draco observed, his
suspicion rising again.
“Well, that’s not untrue. Your continuing concern over her
well-being was an impetus in us… exploring the prospect. There are so many
things about the two of you that are well-matched. Both of you are quite
intelligent, well-read, tenacious, and goal-driven. Before the unfortunate
events of your late teen years, you were quite soft-hearted and, dare I say,
sweet-natured, at least with your mother. She was most proud of that. At the
time, I didn’t see the value, I’m sorry and
embarrassed to say. It seems to me that the warm temperament you showed as a
young one has been rekindled at least to a degree through your therapy. That, I
firmly believe, will appeal to Hermione. You just need to let her see that part
of you.”
“How can I show her who I’ve become if she’s closed to
having a relationship with me?” Draco despaired.
“Don’t approach it from a relationship standpoint. Court her
friendship and cooperation in parenting your daughter. Take advantage of the
agreement the two of you made to learn about each other for Louisa’s sake.
You’ll have at least one hour every week to show her the man you’ve become. I’d
venture a guess that there will be many occasions when you’ll need to be
together for far longer than that. It’s quite a lot of work to raise a toddler,
and since she’s just begun a new career at St. Mungo’s, you’ll have numerous
opportunities to spend time with Louisa. Let her see what a good father you
will be. That will not go unnoticed.”
“How do you know I can be a good father?”
Lucius quirked an eyebrow. “I
watched how you reacted to and interacted with Louisa. It’s been less than a
day and you’re already thoroughly enamored. And have you forgotten how many
conversations you and I have had about the two little boys you cared for in
Salem? It’s clear that you like children, and they respond well to you. I have
no doubt at all that you’ll be a wonderful father. Just relax and follow your
heart.”
Draco’s worried frown had lessened at his father’s
encouragement. He was right that caring for the Roy boys had been a great
turning point in his own healing. Hearing the advice to “relax” and “follow his
heart” had been a bit stunning. When had his father become a man who recognized
the value in such emotional maturity? It seemed that he was not the only one
who had changed and grown in recent years. “So tell me a little bit about how
this… ‘coaching’ would work.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hermione’s sleeves were wet to the elbow. No matter how many
times she rolled them up, pushed them, or put sticking charms on them, Louisa’s
bath time ensured that her own clothing would be as water-logged as her
daughter’s rubber duck. The child had obviously had a very long, stressful and
tiring day, but she clearly hadn’t been the only one. Hermione’s patience was
waning and the girl’s uncharacteristic whining about bedtime was not helping
matters. The young mother was now second-guessing her decision to rouse her for
a bath rather than putting her straight to bed.
“Papa Drake read my story,” Louisa demanded.
Hermione sighed. “Papa Draco is with Pépère. Maybe he can
read you a story tomorrow when you wake up,” she offered in compromise.
Negotiating with a two-year-old was often more complicated than it appeared.
“No! Story for sleep time,” Louisa pouted.
“How about if I read your story tonight and Papa Draco reads
your story tomorrow night?” Hermione countered.
Louisa scrunched her nose, considering her mother’s offer.
“No. Papa Drake tonight and you tomorrow.”
“Merlin help me,” Hermione muttered
under her breath at her frighteningly bright daughter’s calculated rebuttal. She
lifted Louisa out of the tub, wrapping her in a thick yellow towel. “Let’s get
you dressed for bed, then I’ll check to see if Papa
Draco can come read to you.”
The girl stopped squirming and beamed with joy. “Yay! Papa Drake read now.”
“Maybe.” Hermione finished dressing
the girl in her pajamas and set her on the bed, her favorite book in easy
reach. “Be a good girl and sit right here until Mummy comes back,” she warned,
calling for Anjie to keep an eye on her while she
went in search of Draco.
Two minutes later, Hermione breathed deeply as she stood
before the closed door of Lucius’ study, fist raised to rap on the wooden
surface. She knocked twice and waited for a response. Rather than hearing
Lucius call for her to enter, the door was pulled open by the man she’d come to
find. This, for some reason, startled her. “Draco!”
Her unease vaguely amused the young man. “Hermione!
What can I do for you?” He smiled at her.
“Actually, I’m here at your daughter’s behest,” she noted
wryly. “I’ve been ordered to produce you for bedtime story duty or suffer the
consequences of a temperamental two-year-old. Are you willing?” she inquired,
trying to leave any note of desperation out of her voice.
Draco laughed warmly. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve
done story duty. I’d be happy to. Lead the way,” he responded with a slight bow
of his head. He glanced over his shoulder to see his father twisting his lips,
fighting mightily against releasing what surely would have been a guffaw. He
raised his eyebrow in warning and hastened to follow Hermione to their daughter’s
bedroom.
Hermione, confused about his statement about story-time
experience, looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Who have you been reading
bedtime stories to?” she wondered.
“My therapists’ two little boys, although
they’re not quite so little anymore. Thomas is now ten and Daryl just
turned eight. They were seven and five when I started babysitting for them,” he
relayed.
“Really? I had no idea. Did your
parents know about this?”
“Sure. I used to talk about the boys all the time. Why?”
“Just surprised, I guess. They never mentioned that to me,
and they used to talk about their conversations and visits with you frequently,
and at length. Kind of odd to leave that out, don’t you think?” she pressed.
“Maybe a little. I mean, it
certainly wasn’t something I was concealing.”
Hermione stiffened at Draco’s words and he realized his
intimation.
“Oh, sorry. I honestly didn’t mean
anything by that. No offense was intended.”
She relaxed a bit, offering, “Then none was taken,” in
reply. She would deal later with the question of why this not-so-little tidbit
had been omitted from the Malfoys’ typically detailed recounting of their
visits with their son.
“So, you were a care-giver for two boys? How did that come
about?” she probed.
“As I mentioned, they are the children of my therapists, who
are a married couple. We made an arrangement where I could look after them in
exchange for one of my therapy appointments each week,” Draco explained.
“Really? I thought your father was
paying for your therapy sessions,” Hermione noted.
Draco wondered just how much he should reveal about the
circumstances of his additional treatment and hesitated at divulging such a
sensitive topic. His first inclination – to keep it to himself – suddenly felt
out of balance with what he wanted to achieve, and he decided to be honest.
Details weren’t necessary to start, but he would answer questions that she
posed, he decided. “That’s partly true. He obtained permission from the
Ministry to pay for my psychotherapy sessions. My Healer suggested the
additional treatment after we’d met a few times and specific issues came to
light. Since we felt fairly certain that the Ministry wouldn’t approve the
additional expenses, and I didn’t really have the money to pay for it, we worked
out this agreement where I’d watch the boys on Saturdays while they held
patient appointments.”
“I don’t understand. If the Ministry approved the first
sessions, why would they deny the others? It doesn’t make sense,” Hermione
observed, feeling somewhat indignant on Draco’s behalf.
“It’s because of the specific issue that we felt sure they
would reject the request,” Draco amended.
“What issue would they deny? If you needed help, you needed
it. The topic shouldn’t matter. What was it?” Hermione prodded. In a matter of
seconds, she began to regret her question as she saw Draco’s face flush red.
Had she made him angry?
“Um, the therapy was for sexual dysfunction, Hermione,” he
quietly replied, not looking away but not making direct eye contact, either.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Draco; I didn’t mean
to embarrass you. It’s actually quite understandable, given everything that you
went through. I was just thinking like a Mind Healer instead of a… a friend.
You don’t have to say anymore about it. But, in my opinion, they should have
allowed your father to pay for that too. It’s just as critical as any other treatment
area.”
“Look, Hermione, it really is fine. If they had agreed to
allow my father to pay for it, I wouldn’t have developed such fulfilling
relationships with Thomas and Daryl, and I’m very glad that I did. I got the
help that I needed and I made two friends in the process.”
“I’m glad you’re satisfied with the way it turned out. I
suppose that it was a good outcome in the long run,” she allowed.
“It was. I learned nearly as much from spending time with
the boys as I did in my therapy sessions, so I’m thoroughly happy with the path
and the results,” he avowed. He watched as her lips twitched and her eyes
flashed. From what he knew of her, he was completely certain that she was dying
to ask questions about his specific problems and his treatment protocols. Her
curiosity was obviously slaying her. This, however, he was not ready to discuss
with her. Certainly not today, maybe not ever. Only in
the unlikely event that they ever developed an intimate relationship would he
consider sharing the details of his problems and their resolutions.
“But you’re… better now?” She just couldn’t help herself;
that much was clear.
Draco smiled, amused mostly at his very accurate pegging of
what was going on in her head. “Much better, thank you.”
The sharp nod of his head was intended as punctuation to the topic and she was
observant and sensitive enough to interpret it correctly.
“Good. I’m happy for you. Now, let’s see about Louisa’s
story time,” she stated firmly, letting him see that she had accepted his
conclusive remark. She pushed the door open and waved him into their daughter’s
room.
He was greeted not by the enthusiastic welcome both he and
Hermione had anticipated but by the sight of a child who was thoroughly,
completely, deeply asleep, still clutching her favorite book in one hand and a
stuffed unicorn in the other. He turned to Hermione and whispered, “So much for
that.” He reached over to gently pry the book from her hand – it wouldn’t do
for her to scratch herself on its hard edges – and covered her with the blanket
that was folded at her feet. He leaned over and kissed Louisa’s head, stroking
her curls gently. “Good night, little one.” He stepped back and watched her for
a long moment, unaware of the intense scrutiny that the scene had attracted
from the girl’s mother.
Finally, he turned away from the sleeping toddler and
addressed Hermione with a minor, though solemn promise, “I’ll read to her every
night that we’re all here, if she wishes.” He paused for a moment, thinking.
“Maybe we could do it together; allow her to see us as united in her care,” he
offered.
Hermione eyed him intently, wondering about the substantive
and obvious changes in the young man’s approach to life in the last three
years. She’d known on an intellectual level that the boy he’d been in fifth
year and beyond was a largely manufactured persona, but to see the “healed”
Draco Malfoy behave so… normally and cordially was both confusing and
disconcerting. What he asked was not only reasonable, but undeniably sensitive.
How could she possibly refuse him the request? “That would be… nice, Draco. I’m
sure she’ll enjoy it.” She graced him with a tight smile.
He returned a beaming and genuine one. “As will I. Thank
you, Hermione.” He nodded to her in farewell, announcing that he was quite
knackered and ready for his own bed. With a glance back to Louisa, he turned
and exited the room, leaving Hermione to wonder once again how she would adjust
to dealing daily with the new - and substantially different - Draco Malfoy.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Narcissa accepted the snifter of brandy that her husband
offered and, kicking off her shoes, settled on the blue and white brocade loveseat
with her legs curled under her. “So how did he react?” she pressed, anxious to
know how the conversation between father and son had played out.
“Well, he was raised a Slytherin and a Malfoy, so he was
naturally a bit suspicious of our motives. For once, though, I spoke the bare
truth, and I think he believed me.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I loved him and wanted him to be happy.”
“That really is the long and short of it, isn’t it,” she
agreed. “How did he react to your offer?”
“Again, he was skeptical, but I think he ultimately welcomes
my advice. He was quite adamant about not forming any… romantic attachments
while he was in Salem, so his real experience in the art of wooing a woman is
just about nil. What he would have learned in his teen
years will need to be learned in the heat of the battle now. His instincts are
good, I’m sure; it’s the finer points on which I’ll be glad to guide him.
There’s the added advantage, which I think he recognizes and appreciates, that
we know the object of his affections rather well,” Lucius noted with a chuckle.
“And the intelligent young man that he is undoubtedly saw
the value in exploiting that knowledge,” she concluded.
“Of course. He doesn’t want to
create a situation where she is uncomfortable or hesitant in his presence, but
he also doesn’t want to pretend that he has no feelings for her. We agreed that
a strategy of building their parenting partnership and using that to get to
know each other as individuals would yield the best response from Hermione.”
“While I don’t disagree with you in the whole, Lucius, you
must remember that she is a strong-minded woman. She will quickly see through
any display of emotion or feelings that is not thoroughly genuine. And you know
she will not be swayed at all with pretty words and prettier baubles. The
techniques you used to woo me when we were young will be completely wasted on
Hermione.”
“I agree. No one would be likely to accuse you of being
shallow, dear, but you and I both know that the depth of her intellect and insight
far outstrip that of both of us - maybe even combined. It’s a good thing that
our son has the capacity to stay close in that regard. No, the basic approach
is his, as it should be, and I will provide guidance based on what I know her
specific preferences. Your own observations and input would be welcome, I’m
sure.”
“Draco will not want his mother interfering in his love
life, Lucius,” she firmly stated.
“Who said anything about communicating with Draco on this?
You and I will put our heads together, and I will relay any… appropriate
messages and observations,” Lucius instructed, waving the shrinking remains of
his cigar with his gesture. “More brandy, love? I feel a celebration is in
order.” The devilish grin he displayed was a clear indication that he’d had his
fair share of libation and was feeling no pain.
“Any more brandy will have me asleep in minutes, dear,” she
replied. “Besides, I’d rather find other ways to celebrate.” She grazed her
husband’s body with her eyes, and he got her message.
He rose from his chair and extended a hand to aid her in
standing. “I do so like the way you think, wife.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
As tired as Draco had claimed to be, he lay awake in his
bed, staring at the ceiling, more than an hour after having left Hermione and
Louisa in the little girl’s room. With all the trauma and drama he’d expected
he would ever have, his exhaustion had given way to exhilaration, confusion,
hope, and frustration. It appeared that everything he could possibly want in
his life was within reach, but still beyond his grasp.
His head was spinning with everything he’d learned today and
he had to acknowledge that it had been a difficult emotional roller-coaster
from the moment he’d seen the toddler in his mother’s arms hours earlier. Draco’s
stomach churned with the intensity of feeling that enveloped him. As much of a
jolt as it had been to see Hermione on his first day back, discovering the
truth of the life-long impact of his actions on her had been nearly
incomprehensible. He was fairly certain that he’d not absorbed the total impact
of everything he’d learned today. Figuring out where to go and what to do from
here would take a little time. He was seriously considering accepting the offer
extended by the Doctors Roy to call over the Floo should any crises arise. This, he thought, probably qualified. A quick mental
calculation told him that it was late afternoon in Boston; he might be
successful in reaching one of them if he could drag himself out of bed now.
With a deep sigh, he threw the duvet and sheet off his body
and swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the
soft, woolen area rug. Reaching for his wand on the nightstand beside him,
Draco pushed himself into a standing position and moved to the chest at the
foot of his bed to retrieve the thick cotton dressing gown one of the house-elves
had apparently left for him. He had no idea where it had come from, but he
appreciated its warmth in the chilly April night.
The Manor was quiet as he made the trek to his father’s
study, where the Floo was enabled for international calling. It seemed that
even the house-elves had completed their labors for the day and had found their
slumber. Only the rhythmic ticking of the mahogany grandfather clock in the
grand foyer broke the silence. A soft chime told him that it was now a quarter
after the hour. His parents were almost certainly in their suite and he knew
that Hermione had retired after saying goodnight to Louisa; he’d heard the door
to her suite close moments after he’d left them. Knowing that she was only a
few meters away as he rested in his bed had created its own stress.
He stepped into the room and
warded the door to protect his privacy. The fire in the hearth had gone out; he’d
need to reignite it to make the call. Lifting his wand with a flick, he spoke
the incantation, “Incendio,” and stepped back from
the momentary roar of flame. It took a few seconds to settle during which Draco
dipped his hand into the copper urn on the mantle for a fistful of Floo powder.
He tossed it into the fire, turning its color from orange to green, and knelt
to insert his head, enunciating the address clearly. “Doctor
David Roy’s office, Boston, Massachusetts, United States.”
It took only a moment for a
surprised therapist to greet his erstwhile patient. “Draco! What’s up?”
“I was hoping you might be able
to spare a few moments for me, David. I’ve come home to some… startling news
and I need a little guidance in dealing with it,” Draco said, the hint of
desperation clear in his tone.
“Of course, Draco.
I’d be happy to give you some time. I was just making notes after my last
patient and killing time until my next appointment at half past six. What’s
going on?” he asked curiously, knowing that the likelihood of some drama was
fairly high after having been away for so long.
The hesitation in Draco’s reply was
telling. The sense of confidence and self-assuredness that he’d developed in
recent months had deserted him; the events of the day had clearly shaken him to
the core.
“I, uh, don’t quite know where to
begin; there’s so much to tell,” he started.
“Take your time, Draco. I’ve got
more than an hour. Just breathe. Relax,” he instructed.
“I saw Hermione and she’s got a
daughter,” he spoke in a rush.
The therapist’s eyes widened, but
he held his tongue for nothing more than a prompt. “And?”
“She’s mine. From the… rape,” he
confessed, the anguish of speaking it aloud ringing in the small office.
David paused to consider how to
proceed. The temptation to gasp with shock was nearly impossible to resist; it
took all of his professional will and training to maintain a mask of calm for
the patient he’d come to like and care for. “And how does that make you feel?”
The standard fall-back seemed the most prudent at the moment.
“Horrible. Wonderful.
Angry. Confused beyond belief,” Draco confessed.
“Let’s take this one piece at a
time. What’s horrible?” the Healer prompted.
“That what I did to her had a
more lasting effect than I even imagined. She’ll always remember that her
daughter was conceived in violence, not in love. Of all the things I’ve had to
atone or seek forgiveness for, this has to top the
list,” he spoke morosely.
“Have you had any conversation or
direct communication with Hermione about this?”
“Yes. All day.
That’s part of the confusion.”
“Fair enough.
We’ll come back to that in a moment. What’s wonderful?”
“Louisa. My…
daughter. She’s sweet and bright and beautiful and loving. Everything I
could ever hope for in my child.”
“Why are you angry?” David asked,
though he had a guess of his own.
“Because they had three years to
tell me about her and kept her from me.”
Got it in one, he thought. “Do you know why?”
“Yes. That’s a big part of what
Hermione and I spoke about today. It was her decision, and she bound my parents
with an Unbreakable Vow. She says she was trying to spare me the additional
anxiety while I was in treatment. I understand her reasoning, but I obviously
disagree with her choice. I should have been told, maybe not right at the
beginning, but certainly after she was born.” Draco breathed heavily, feeling
some of the more intense frustration from earlier in the day return as he
recounted their conversation.
“And what was the result of your
discussion with Hermione?”
“I tried to explain to her how…
important it was to me – to have that child exist and not know about it. I
understand that she was making the decisions that she thought were right for
her and for everyone, and my head can comprehend why she did what she did. What
she didn’t know then, and probably still doesn’t quite grasp yet, is that the
very thing that she kept from me was one of my heart’s greatest desires.”
“How do you feel about the fact
that she had the child rather than terminate the pregnancy?” David probed
quietly.
“Grateful. I imagine that if I’d
been in her position, I’d not have made the same choice. That she went through
with it and clearly loves Louisa is just astounding. It feels like I’ve been
given another incredible gift.”
“How are you dealing with your
anger?”
Draco sighed deeply. “I’m trying
to see beyond it and let it go. After everything she did for me, how can I hold
this against her? We’ve agreed to forgive each other for our many
transgressions – mostly mine – and try to work together civilly to raise
Louisa.”
“That’s very mature and sensitive
of both of you,” the doctor observed. He hesitated a moment before framing his
next question. “How about your feelings for Hermione?
What impact has this new revelation made?”
“That’s a difficult question to
answer, David. I’m certain that I love her, and you know that I have for a long
time. I’m in awe of all the things she’s done for me and given to me. And I’m a
little annoyed with her at the moment.”
David laughed loudly. “Trust me,
Draco, even the very best relationships between partners will have times when
you’d rather have a Bludger to the head than spend
five minutes together. Kate and I don’t argue often, but when we do, it’s a humdinger!
Doesn’t mean I love her any less; I’m just pissed off at the moment. Happens
all the time, so don’t be troubled about that.”
“I suppose that’s true, and you’re
right, it doesn’t change my basic feelings. I just need to understand her thinking
and emotions, and respect that she did what she thought was right in the
circumstances. There was nothing malicious in her actions, I’m quite sure.”
“Has she given you any indication
of her… attitude toward you?” David wondered.
“She hasn’t by any means come out
and said ‘I hate you,’ but I think she’s a little… skittish about spending a
lot of time with me. I’m not very good at hiding my feelings these days, and I
think she’d rather not have me mooning over her. I think she… respects that I’ve
started to pull my life together, and I feel fairly confident that she has
forgiven me for our past… difficulties, at least on an intellectual level.
Whether her heart will ever forget is another story entirely.”
“Fair enough.
So, what are you confused about?”
“Everything!
She and Louisa have been living with my parents this whole time, and none of
them said a word about it. My parents are as complicit in this as Hermione. I’m
certain my father and mother are up to something, but I don’t know exactly
what. I can tell you without a doubt that it is related to Hermione, because my
father offered to help me gain her attention. My father has also named Louisa
my heir and provided for them financially. It seems that some of that was as
much a surprise to Hermione as it was to me. There’s a lot going on and I’m not
sure how to react or cope with all of it.”
“You don’t think your father
would have tried to arrange a marriage between the two of you, do you? Isn’t
that still fairly common among the old families in the UK?”
“I doubt that, because it would
require her consent or that of her family. Since she has no family left after
the war, the permission would need to come directly from her. I just can’t see
that happening, so I think we can rule that out,” Draco concluded. “But there
are certainly other things he could concoct, given enough motivation. I just haven’t
figured out what, yet.”
“What conclusion have you reached
about what you’re going to do in light of these new circumstances?”
“We have made a few decisions,
but there still seems to be an awful lot up for discussion. Hermione was
planning to move out of the Manor when I returned, but we’ve agreed that she
and Louisa will stay and I will live in our London townhouse until I find a
place of my own. We’re going to have set times to visit with Louisa so that her
life isn’t disrupted too much. We’ve also agreed to spend an hour together each
week to get to know each other better and to make decisions with regard to
Louisa’s needs.”
“I take it that the ‘we’ is
Hermione and you,” David surmised. At Draco’s nod, he continued, “That all
sounds reasonable and practical. It will also give you an opportunity to become
acquainted with the elements of Hermione’s life that you don’t know much about.”
“That’s true, but it also scares
me. What do I know about building any kind of friendship with her, much less a
relationship? I’m afraid that I’ll blow any chance I could possibly have with
her before we ever get past cordiality.”
“Draco, you are an intelligent
and engaging young man. The fear you have is completely normal for someone
embarking on wooing the target of your interest. It’s one of the reasons that I
often encouraged you to date while you were here – to work out the kinks, so to
speak. Since you were so opposed to doing that, I’m not surprised that you’re
feeling some trepidation now. You’re going to have little choice but to learn
as you go along, my friend.”
The young wizard laughed
humorlessly. “That’s exactly what my father said. He actually offered to give
me tips on ‘courting’ her. I know Hermione well enough to know that she won’t
respond to the things that my father did when he was courting my mother.”
“But your father does have the advantage
of living with Hermione for the last three years. And he’s not a fool; he may
have some advice that’s worth heeding. Don’t dismiss it out of hand.” David
paused for a moment before posing another question. “What about your career
goals?”
“I need to reconsider some of
that. I have a daughter now, and I want to spend time with her and get to know
her. I also want her to be proud of her father, so I need to do something with
my life. We’ve talked about that a lot, David, and nothing has changed in that
I want to make my own way in the world. I have a lot to atone for and I fully
intend to find some way to pay my emotional debts as much as I paid my legal
ones.”
“So the restaurant…”
“Is on hold for
the foreseeable future.”
“Have you given more thought to
your ‘atonement’ plan? The work you started here was so effective, Draco,”
David praised.
A flash of revelation seemed to
jar Draco from his wallowing. “Not until this very moment, but I think I’ve got
an idea that will satisfy many of my goals. You, Dr. Roy, are a bloody genius!”
Draco enthused.
“Don’t thank me. Whatever is
going on in your head is your own creation.”
“Maybe so, but you asked the
right questions that helped me connect the dots into a picture that might
actually make a real difference. If we hadn’t had this conversation, I don’t
know that I would have reached the same end.”
“Give yourself a little credit,
Draco. It might have taken a few days, but you probably would have arrived
there on your own.”
“Fine.
So we make a good team. How’s that?” Draco needled
with a smile.
“I’ll accept that on one
condition.”
“Yes?”
“You acknowledge that, at this
moment, I truly have no earthly idea what your plan is, regardless of whether
anything that I said helped it spring to mind.”
“Done.”
“So what else can I do for you
this evening, Draco?”
“I think that’s all, Doc. It
really helped to talk about this with someone who wasn’t in the midst of it
all,” he acknowledged.
“My pleasure.
Glad to help.”
“Thank you for fitting me in
without an appointment. I really appreciate it. Will you send me an invoice so
I can transfer the money to your account?” Draco requested.
David waved a hand. “This one’s
on the house. You’re my friend as much as my patient.”
“That’s kind and generous of you,
David. I won’t forget it.”
“No problem. Now go get some
rest; it’s got to be nearly midnight there. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon,” he
offered.
“I hope so. Please give my
regards to Kate and the kids. I miss them already,” Draco admitted.
“We’re just a Floo call or Portkey away. You’re welcome here any time. And we’d love
to meet Louisa – and Hermione – one day soon.”
“That would be fabulous. I hope
we can make it happen. Good night, David.”
“Good night, Draco,” he replied, cutting
off the Floo connection with a wave.
Draco backed out of the fireplace
and sat back on his heels for a moment. He felt substantially better than he
had an hour ago, and had a new idea that might be something to help him rebuild
his reputation along with his battered psyche. This day was turning out to be
not so bad after all.
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