Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Let There Be No More Curse	By : lexiatel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 61015 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to Jk Rowling, I do not make any profit in writing this story what so ever, I am just having some fun.

Chapter List
- 21
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Upon their arrival, Hermione instantly had been surrounded by her friends, Potter, Ginny, Ron Weasley and his wife, Susan.
Draco, just as quickly as people appeared near him, made a hasty getaway, not missing the scrutinizing look that Weasley had tossed his way. He returned a nasty look of his own, but was easily reminded of the promise he had silently made to Hermione when her laughter filled his ears.
With a hesitant glance her way, Draco decided it was best that he just slip out of the way of her and her friends, as they goggled at how big his son was getting since the last time their eyes had set on him (pointless comments made by the Potters, since they had just seen him last week).
Draco stood at one of the tables that Ginny had pointed out to them on their arrival. 'The snack tables', she had called them. He had ventured over to the one that had the healthier food choices, grateful that either Potter or his wife had considered fruits and vegetables a part of the snack group. Many people did not. It wasn't that Draco didn't like sweets, but he certainly didn't use them them as an everyday meal as some people did.
He watched the scene that involved Hermione, popping grape after grape into his mouth, finding this activity oddly familiar. How many times had he done this same thing in his school days; standing back in the shadows, hardly noticed by anyone as he grimly stewed over (in jealousy, as he realized now) how much love the Gryffindors showed and received?
Too many to count.
He wasn't really jealous now, that much he knew. Even if Weasley could make her laugh, or if Potter touched a hand to her shoulder— although, when this had happened, he had paused his chewing to gaze at his girlfriend's face, awaiting to see an expression that shouldn't be displayed on a girl bounded by a union bond.
She did nothing out of the ordinary...
Good. It was just a friendly gesture made by a close friend. Ginny wasn't even upset over it, and she, of all people, would have the most reason to feel jealousy, what with her swollen, bulging belly that stuck out well past her feet and all. Draco knew she was due to bear the child at any moment- Hermione had been constantly rambling about it. She seemed to think he was interested in knowing when the next spawn of Potter's was going to breathe its first gasp of air.
But he hadn't corrected her on it. Draco didn't want Hermione to think she couldn't talk to him, so he pretended to be interested in the topic.
The Potters were going to have a daughter, and already had a name picked out for the little precious darling. Draco bet his life that she'd have red hair. He just couldn't picture a girl with Potter's unruly dark hair. Ginny's hair was much more fitting for a girl.
Not that he had ever given Ginny's hair much of a thought... Hermione was the one that brought his train of thought into that station, stating that both her friends wanted a red-headed little girl, since their sons had inherited more of Potter's genes.
"Maltoy!" a young voice suddenly screeched beneath him, followed by a faint tugging of his pant leg.
The youngest Potter heir looked up at Draco with a wide smile and bright eyes of green that were all too like his father's; completely identical, actually.
Draco quirked up an eyebrow at the young boy, wondering what on Earth was wrong with the Potter boys. Surely, Potter must have told them about how awful of a person he had been in his past?
"What?" he asked, trying to sound even toned, succeeding at it. Albus was a small boy, after all, and he had nothing personal against the boy, but Draco also didn't want to appear overly friendly; the boy was already under the illusion that Draco liked him.
For some unknown reason...
Kids are incredibly weird. It's a good thing Scorpius isn't so strange.
He stole a glance at his son at that thought. Draco felt his chest constrict. Potter was holding his son, bouncing him at his hip. And Scorpius— that traitor— was full of smiles.
Draco's mind, deep within, told him it was nothing. Harry Potter was his son's godfather— hardly any different than a paternal uncle— like what Severus had been to him when he was alive. Draco had looked up to Severus countless of times. Usually, it had been for academic reasons, but he had been fairly close to the man until his 6th year, when everything had turned completely upside-down.
Still... Draco couldn't help that little, sick sting of pain that was slicing into his chest. He pressed his lips together after feeling them twitch as his thoughts turned insanely bitter. How dare his childhood enemy make his son laugh like that! What could he have possibly said to him? What could he have possibly done to Scorpius in order to make him laugh so joyously? Did Scorpius think Potter was a better father? Was Potter more fun? Charming?
Draco clenched his fists, his chest pain increasing. He was about to stalk over to Potter and yank his son away from him, but there was another tug at his pant leg.
"Mista Maltoy!"
He looked down at the small boy who was still demanding of his attention. He softened his furrowed brow. "It's Malfoy," he corrected after taking a huge breath to calm himself.
I mustn't make a scene.
He must keep his cool for Hermione. She'd get too embarrassed if he went over there and took his son away from that creep Potter. And then Hermione would be furious with him. Draco couldn't have that...
"And why are you bugging me?" he asked the boy gently, suppressing his annoyance, purposely keeping his eyes off his laughing son.
"Mummy's busy," his brother answered the question, having had come up on the other side of Draco. He was standing on his tip toes, reaching at a plate of apple slices which were neatly arranged in a circle. He swiped one off it and shoved the whole slice into his mouth. "Whir not poss'd oo bodder grow ups en dey are sea."
Draco didn't understand a word that the elder boy said as he spoke with his mouth crammed full of food. The smaller one tapped at his leg softly, yet persistently, making Draco turn from James to Albus.
Albus pointed to a plate on the table behind Draco. "I want tat preach, pwease! 'An you git it soar me?"
"Preach?" Draco questioned.
Oh.
He understood when he saw the reddish golden fruits that the boy was pointing at. "Peach," he said out loud and picked up one.
"No!" Albus cried. "Not tat un!"
Draco wrinkled his eyebrows, sighing in mild frustration, reminding himself that Albus was a small child and he needed to be patient with him. "Not this one?"
Albus wildly shook his head and pointed again.
Draco placed the peach back and set a single finger onto the one next to it. "This one?"
Albus sighed exasperatedly. "No!" He retracted his arm and re-pointed with emphasis. "Tat un!"
"Look here," Draco started firmly, finally having enough of this pathetic game. "There are other people that would probably like to eat one of these peaches without my fingerprints all over them, so eat this one or have none!" He held out the peach that Albus had last pointed out to him.
Albus looked at it for a second and stuck out his lower lip; it trembled slightly.
"Uhoh..." James murmured behind Draco. "He's gonna cry!"
Uhoh! Draco's mind echoed James's. Potter's kid is going to cry! And it'll be all my fault!
He couldn't make The-Boy-Who-Lived's heir upset! That was probably close to a crime! He might get arrested! Or at the very least, Potter and all his friends might demand retribution, using their fists and his face! Or worse, their wands and his face!
"Wait, wait!" Draco hastily said. "This is a magic peach!" he said the first thing that came to his mind.
The teary-eyed boy tilted his head doubtfully at him, but just the same, he asked in a whiny voice, "Really?"
"Sure!" Relief flooded over Draco, knowing he had directed Albus's attention. He tossed the peach from one hand to the next, giving himself some time to come up with some fabricated story that would take the child's mind off his previous scolding of him. "Has your father ever told you about the story of the boy who was invited into the flesh of a magical, flying giant peach?"
"A giant peach?!" James shrieked out. "I want to go on a giant peach too! Tell me the story, Mista Malfoy! Tell me!" He hopped around Draco in eagerness. "What's the story called?" The boy's brown eyes lit up with anticipation.
"James and the Giant Peach," a voice supplied near them.
Draco looked up to see Neville Longbottom on the other side of the table, giving Draco a curious look. He brought up a stalk of celery to his mouth and snapped off a piece, chewing it over in thought. The man had slimmed down quite a bit since his youth, and had turned out to be a very good looking man. Age did him well.
"A story about a boy with my name?" Young James was momentarily astonished.
"I've read it before," Longbottom explained to Draco who raised his eyebrows in surprise, as it was a Muggle children's story. He then turned to Albus and James. "James Trotter was a little orphaned boy. He had two mean, awful aunts, and one day, he was given the chance of his lifetime to escape them by taking a flight on a flying peach!"
Albus's eyes grew with interest. "Oh!" he squealed excitedly. "Tell me shory, pwease!"
Draco tossed the peach to Longbottom, allowing him to take over. Longbottom was a much better storyteller than he. He wasn't here to entertain a couple of toddlers anyway. He'd rather tell stories to his own son.
Tuning out Longbottom's storytelling, Draco grabbed himself a handful of thinly sliced apple slices and then took a seat on a bench nearby.
Hermione was now sitting on the sofa. Scorpius had been placed on the floor and was sitting at her feet, fiddling with the straps of her shoes as she spoke with Ginny and Luna Lovegood.
"Harry!" someone called out, making Draco's eyes shift to Potter, who was being ushered over to the entrance of the kitchen by George Weasley. "Got a minute?" George asked when Potter and Ron had approached him.
"Sure." Potter shrugged after a mere glance at his wife.
"Get to try that product?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "I really don't want to be around for this conversation—"
"Then don't be," his brother said, brushing him off.
"Doesn't the thought of Ginny—"
"I don't let my mind wander that far on the subject," George interrupted Ron quickly. Draco swore he saw the elder brother give a small shudder. "Anyway, Harry?" he prompted with an eager smile.
"Erm..." Draco saw the blush crept onto Potter's face. He scratched the back of his head. "George, my wife is about to have a baby, when do you suppose I've had the chance to use such a product?"
George nodded, seeing Potter's reasoning. "Guess, you're right, mate. I'm just excited to see what you think of it."
"I'm sure it's as great as you've raved about. Definitely sounds like something that would be a success."
"He has a lot of brilliant ideas, the Flamethrower does," Ron chimed in. "This new potion is going to bring in loads of wealth to all those involved."
At the mention of his alias, Draco leaned toward them ever so slightly in order to not miss a single word.
"How do even you know he's a he?" Potter asked. "I thought the identity of this 'Flamethrower' was anonymous?"
"He writes like a man," Ron said. "And is completely full of himself. How many women do you know who are full of themselves?"
"But the Flamethrower does have such pretty handwriting," George countered. Draco pursed his lips at this 'comment'. It wasn't his fault that his mother had insisted on perfecting his penmanship! And Severus had been just as bad, making him rewrite several papers over when Draco had rushed too fast with his work!
Much as people thought, Slytherins were never allowed to actually slack off. They were too proud to slack off and had a strict Head of House to boot.
"He could be a pureblood then," Ron muttered.
George laughed. "You haven't seen your handwriting lately then! But hey, we're Weasleys! What can we say? We've always been the exception!"
"Lately?" Harry teased. "Ron's handwriting has always been retched!"
"Aye, that's true!" George agreed.
"Oh, shut up, you two!" Ron snapped playfully, lightly socking Potter in the shoulder, making the dark haired man rub it with a wince.
"Seamus likes the product," George informed Potter, returning back to the previous topic.
"Neville still refuses to use it," Ron said, looking at the man who was still telling stories. Some other kids had joined the Potter boys, so Longbottom now had a small group of children surrounding him as he spoke animately to them.
"I'm sure it's really Luna who refuses," George speculated.
"I still don't understand her reasoning." Ron shook his head.
Potter shrugged. "It's Luna, why even try understanding her?"
"Oi, Harry!" Dennis Creevey greeted excitedly, holding a broom in his hand and a camera in another.
"Hey, Dennis."
"Brought my broom," Dennis announced without necessity.
"I told you that you didn't have to. I've plenty of the newest models for people to use."
"I know, but I'm used to mine."
"Alright, I can understand that then," Potter said nodding.
"So when do we play?"
Potter glanced around, seemingly doing a quick head count. "When everyone gets here, we'll see who wants to play then."
"Can't wait!" Dennis said. Potter directed him to a closet where his broom could be stored in the time being, and then Dennis went around the room to take pictures.
So there is going to be a game of Quidditch tonight. Draco pressed his lips together. This was news to him. His lips thinned as he stared at Hermione, wondering how it could have slipped her mind.
Draco stood up. If there was going to be a Quidditch game, he was going to play in it, but like Dennis, he'd want to use his own broom. He approached Hermione, setting a hand onto her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
She looked up and sent him a smile, but that quickly faded into a frown and she stood up. "Something wrong?" Her eyes darted around the room, looking for trouble.
"Only that you forgot to inform me that I'd need my broom tonight," he said evenly, noticing that both Luna and Ginny were watching him as he spoke.
"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "I'm so sorry! I forgot! Harry has a few brooms though—"
"No thank you," he cut her off gently. "I'd rather ride my own."
Hermione nodded. "Alright..."
"I'm going to go get it then," Draco told her awkwardly. People were watching them, much too intently for his likely. He leaned forward, murmuring, "What's wrong with your friends?"
Hermione uneasily glanced away from his eyes. "Oh, nothing really." Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.
Obviously, she was lying.
Draco couldn't prevent a scowl from etching onto his face. "You think I'm soft or something?!" he hissed quietly.
Hermione stiffened. "Of course not!" she whispered.
"You think I can't handle the truth? Well, I can!" The next sentence he spoke up louder, raising his voice from the whisper. "I know exactly why everyone is watching me like I'm some kind of criminal." He allowed the entire crowd to see his disgusted look, and was happy to see many of their eyes shift away from his accusation.
Guilt.
Good, they should feel that by now!
"Draco, it's not like that..." Hermione went to start.
Draco face softened, hinting the hurt tone that hung in her voice. He turned his head back to her and kissed her cheek. "Don't lie, love," he said. "And don't make excuses for them. Or me."
He bent down to pick up Scorpius. He hadn't noticed until that moment that his son had been using one of his legs to boost himself up to his feet, clinging onto it for stability.
"Derbla!" Scorpius giggled out as Draco held him to his chest. He kissed Draco on his cheek. "Mmma!"
"I know it's hard to believe a big, bad ex-Death Eater can love," Draco went on, speaking out loud so everyone could hear him. He hugged Scorpius to him, needing a sudden bit of comfort to ease his pain. "I know because I've experienced it single-handedly." He handed off Scorpius to Hermione, who was giving him an odd, pitiful look. "I'll be back in a few minutes to face the music," he told her quietly. "I'm just going home to grab my broom." He gave her another kiss— a simple peck to her lips. This one was done for strict effect, knowing he had an audience.
Draco forced a mischievous grin and directed it at Hermione. Finally, he turned and walked to the door. Potter called after him, but he ignored him and exited the house. As soon as the door was shut behind him, he apparated to the Gordin Manor to fetch his broom.
Draco sucked in a few breaths when he landed, and clenched his fists. He didn't deserve to be treated like that. Not anymore. He'd paid his dues. And he'd changed. But, because of his bloody past, no one was going to believe it, and he was tired of them judging his every move. He was tired of kissing ass. It wasn't doing him any good. They still considered him Draco-Fucking-Malfoy, the Boy-Death Eater.
Draco stomach tightened up with an oncoming sickness. He swallowed down the bile that was creeping up into his throat.
Damn... Why can't they just see that I've changed?
Because you're not a precious, golden-boy Gryffindor. You're a bloody Snake. Slytherins are never good. Not according to them. And Slytherins don't deserve second chances.
Draco grit his teeth at the thought. Before he could tell his mind to stop tormenting him, he let out a loud roar full of immense frustration. He gripped the edge of the table that stood nearest to him and lifted it up, tossing it over onto its side. It made a loud crash as it hit the floor and rolled a few feet away from him.
Draco grunted in mild satisfaction and stalked out of the room.
*/*
"He's not bad anymore," Hermione insisted to the silent room. She shut back tears in her eyes, feeling horrid for the way people saw Draco. "Draco's changed!"
"You're bound to him, you're obviously going to see things differently," Dean Thomas pointed out.
"Which is why we should take her word for it," Luna reasoned. "She's able to sense things that the rest of us won't be able to."
"You know what," Harry spoke up furiously. "I've invited Malfoy here, he's Hermione's boyfriend now, and while Ginny and I may not like Malfoy all too much, Hermione does, and Hermione's our friend. We support her. Now, I've told you that he was going to be here, I gave you all plenty of notice, so if you can't suppress your emotions just for one night, then maybe you shouldn't even be here!"
Hermione gave Harry a tiny smile that he returned, even though his eyes expressed heavy annoyance.
"And Hermione's right," Ginny added. "He has changed. You can't deny it. I'm sure some of you noticed how he treated my boys tonight?" A few people nodded. "That's not the first time he's shown them patience. We all know if he was the same person he was ten years ago, he'd have bullied them just because they have Weasley blood in them."
"Seven years is a long time," Ron spoke up so quietly that Hermione had to strain to hear him. He scoffed lightly. "Even I've changed since school..." He looked at his son, Edgar, holding up a chewing toy in place for the drooling, wide-eyed baby in his arms.
Susan wrapped an arm around Ron. "We've all changed a little."
"But he's a Slytherin! He's Malfoy!" someone argued.
"If Ron and I can manage to remain human in Malfoy's presence, we all can. If Hermione sees good in him, there must be good in him. We, of all the people, were the ones who constantly had to deal with him during our school days."
"And me," Neville said sheepishly.
"And Neville," Harry added.
"And I say, anyone who is willing to stop a child from crying is good in my book," Neville said seriously.
"We're in a new era now," Harry continued. "We have the power to change history even further than we already have. And that starts with our children. We can no longer judge people based on their house sorting. That was a mistake many of our parents made before us. We know that a lot of us acted the way we did because of how we were told to view people. I, myself, even admit to being bigoted to certain people in my youth. The people who are free now have paid their debt to society. Their slates are clean, and we need to remember that— even if these people were once followers of Voldemort."
There was a quiet murmur when Harry's speech came to a pause as he waited for them to sink in. Some people still had their doubts.
"I agree with Harry," Luna said, standing up with a smile to address the crowd. "He's never steered us wrong."
"Just please," Hermione said to the crowd. "Give him a chance at least. We love each other, and he's a great father. He's trying really hard to make our lives as pleasant as they can be with our given circumstances. He's even going to help me start up an organization to give House Elves some civil rights. That's something, isn't it? Coming from him?"
That got people buzzing with surprise. Several gasps of shock were heard, and many people started speaking all at once.
"So, once again," Harry firmly spoke up above the voices. "The door is there if you still think he hasn't earned his chance to be treated as one of us— a free wizard, who just wants to ensure a safe and healthy life for he and his family."
No one moved toward the door Harry had gestured at. "Good," he said, heaving a breath of relief. "Let's get back to the party then!"
* / *
The wind whistled in his ears, tossing his hair far behind his face. He felt free for the time being. All the weight was lifted off him as he zipped and zagged through the sky. It had been months since he had gone out for a broom ride, and the crisp snap of the freezing temperature somehow set his mind at ease.
When he saw the roof of Potter's home, Draco took a sharp nosedive and timely hopped off his broom, tucking it under his arm.
I still have it! he thought, smiling to himself. After all these ruddy years.
Draco had almost talked himself out of returning to the party, but he had made a deal; a promise. He had to go back to the Potters for Hermione. If it had been for anyone else, he would have probably remained at home. But he wasn't able to break promises to Hermione. He just couldn't.
He really needed to put more thought when it came to such agreements with his girlfriend.
Draco raked his hand through his wind-conditioned hair and stepped up to the stoop of the Potters' home. With hesitance, he knocked on the door and forced a tiny smile for whoever would open the door for him.
"Ah, there you are," Potter greeted warmly. Draco could tell he wasn't the only one 'forcing' himself to be civil tonight. "Hermione was beginning to worry."
And, as if that was her cue, Hermione pushed passed Potter, practically jumping into Draco's arms and hugging him. "What took you so long?!" she demanded furiously and pulled apart from Draco to give him a scolding look. "You said you would be right back! And what happened to your hair?!" she gasped out and reached up to flatten it down.
Draco shoved her hands away. "I'm alright. I just needed some air. It's been awhile since I've been for a broom ride. Got a bit... carried away." He looked at his watch. "Besides, it's only been forty minutes!" He rolled his eyes at her. "You act like I've been gone for hours!"
"Well, when people say they are going to be right back, it usually implies they'll be gone for just a few minutes!" she huffed.
"Can you continue this inside?" Potter eased in gently. "All the lovely heat is seeping out into the winter evening."
"Right." Draco inclined his head and stepped inside.
Ron joined them a second later. "Well, I'll admit that I'm faintly surprised you came back," he said to Draco.
"You and me both," Draco muttered.
Potter held out his hand to Draco. "I want to call a truce— if only for tonight. I'd like to set an example for the kids."
Draco's eyes fell down to Potter's outstretched hand. It looked roughed up from years of whatever his job required. He saw a glimpse of a faded marking and, upon squinting his eyes, he made it out to be a scar. A scar made from a curse.
"Draco?" Hermione asked, prompting him to take Potter's hand.
Setting his jaw, Draco give a firm nod, agreeing with Potter's reasoning for this brief truce. "Doesn't mean we're friends though," he said to Potter after they shook hands with one lengthy motion.
Potter snorted. "As if that could ever happen!"
Ron cleared his throat near by, holding his own hand out. "I'll truce too," he said awkwardly. "Just for tonight," he added quickly.
With no words, Draco hesitantly took Ron's hand, and was immediately yanked forward. Ron was a great deal bigger than Draco and he momentarily struggled against the sudden assault until he heard Ron whispering into his ear. "You best treat her well, Malfoy. If you ever hurt her, I'll make sure your death will be a slow and agonizing one. Am I clear?"
Draco had never heard Ron sound so dark and threatening. He refrained from shuddering, knowing the Weasel was speaking the truth.
"As glass," Draco muttered coldly. "Now let me go before I curse all your fingers off!"
Ron tapped Draco's shoulder with false affection, and after a couple shakes of his hand, he released Draco's hand.
Clenching his jaw, Draco let out a chuckle, glancing at Hermione who was trying to figure out what just happened. "I guess we can act like the mature adults we are." Locking his eyes with Ron's, he took Hermione's arm and pulled her close to him. "Sorry I worried you," he told her sincerely and kissed her cheek.
The smirk that appeared on Draco's face was real as he watched Weasley's eyes narrow in fury.
Oh, well, Draco thought. The ginger haired Weasel already had his chance with Hermione, and he blew it. But Draco had his own regrets to live with without sparing Weasel-Bee any pity for throwing away the best witch to ever set foot on Earth.
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Let There Be No More Curse