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Forgiven	By : Tassanaburrfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 18105 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Harry Potter or the books or contents. This work is purely for my own pleasure, no profit to be made.

Chapter List
- 30
- 31
- 32
“Please keep her distracted for as long as you can,” Draco requested of his parents. “I really want her to be surprised.”
Narcissa gave her son a warm smile. “Such a romantic young man,” she gushed as she pressed her palm against his cheek. “You don’t know how proud I am of you. Everything you’ve done for our family and this woman you love so much.”
“Everything except manage to get her pregnant,” Lucius pointed out as he walked over to his armchair by the fire and sat in it, placing his cane next to him.
“All good things come with time,” the witch said, giving her husband a meaningful look. “It will happen, darling.” Looking back at her son, she pushed a few strands of hair out of his face and lightly pinched his cheek as she added, “It’ll be alright. You’ll see.”
Draco wrinkled his nose a bit, but still smiled as he bent down to kiss his mother on the cheek. “I told Hermione to come here once she got off of work, so she should be here soon,” he explained.
“You’ll be home for supper?” his mother asked.
He shrugged. “I’ll try, but you know how slow these Muggle vehicles go and I can’t use magic around them. I don’t want to scare them. The sooner their memories are restored, the better.”
“Do be careful,” Narcissa said.
He nodded, gave her one last kiss on the cheek and bid his parents good-bye before leaving the Manor. He Apparated as close to the airport as he dared and quickly “called” the limo service he had ordered a couple of weeks prior.
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. The limousine is at the airport off the northside. We have the driver on standby outside with a sign waiting for you,” the operator told him.
Draco replied, “Very well. The couple and I shall be there shortly.”
He walked into the Bristol Airport and made his way to the gate he was to meet the couple. It had been years since he had seen the Grangers, and he vaguely remembered what they had looked like. However, Hermione had shown him pictures of her parents and he knew her mother looked much like her. So, spotting the couple was easy enough.
He straightened his tie and approached them. “Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins?” he asked and they turned to look at him.
“Yes?” Mr. Wilkins replied.
Draco held his hand out to the older man. “I’m Draco Malfoy. I’m sorry to arrive so late. Traffic is brutal this time of day,” he said as the man took his hand.
“Oh, that’s quite alright, young man,” the man said. “I’m Wendell and this is my wife Monica.”
The Pureblood smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir, ma’am,” he stated as he took Monica’s hand gently and, bowing slightly, kissed the back of it.
“Oh! What a gentleman!” Monica gasped with a little giggle as she pressed her free hand to her chest. “And so handsome, too. I do hope you don’t mind my saying, Mr. Malfoy, but you have the most amazing hair I’ve ever seen. Why, it’s almost white! And your eyes! Wendell, have you ever seen such beautiful eyes?”
Draco’s cheeks blushed and his smile brightened. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I’m very flattered.”
Wendell straightened his throat. “Well, I’m sure a young bloke such as yourself has a girl,” he surmised as Draco took the bag Monica was dragging with one hand and threw her other bag over his shoulder.
“Oh, yes, sir,” the blond answered as he led them out of the airport to the limo. “In fact, we recently got married a little over two months ago.”
“So young! You can’t be more than eighteen,” Monica guessed.
Draco chuckled, “You really do flatter me, ma’am. I celebrated my twentieth birthday the beginning of June.”
The limousine driver took the bags from the couple and Draco and helped them into the backseat before setting their bags in the trunk. Once everyone was settled, the driver rolled down the little window that separated him from the trio. “I was told you had an address for me, Mr. Malfoy?” he asked.
Draco nodded. “Oh, yes!” he said. “We’re going to Malfoy Manor located right outside of Bath.”
“I’ve heard of the estate,” the driver commented. “I’ve never been, however I’ve heard it’s beautiful, especially this time of year.”
Draco inclined his head. “I’ll give you a large tip if you get us there quickly and safely,” he promised the driver. He looked at Monica and Wendell. “I should probably warn you. The 19^th is Hermione’s birthday. She’ll be 21 and my parents are planning a huge celebration. You’re both invited, of course, as you’ll be staying in the Manor.”
“And Hermione is…?” Wendell pressed.
“The girl you spoke to the first time you called,” the blond explained. “She’s also my wife.”
“Oh, how lovely!” Monica said, clapping her hands together. “And what an interesting name ‘Hermione’. I remember reading about the name once in a Shakespearean play. Do you remember it, Wendell? I’ve always wanted a daughter named Hermione. And ‘Draco’! What a brave, strong name.”
The Pureblood gave a soft smile. Oh, yes, these were Hermione’s parents alright. “I was named after the constellation,” he told them. “My parents had wanted to give me a fierce, strong name. And ‘Draco’ is very noble as well, what with being Latin for ‘dragon’.”
Monica nodded. “It is a wonderful name. Do you mind if I call you ‘Draco’?”
“Not at all, ma’am,” he said. “In fact, I insist. When we get to the Manor, you’ll be introduced to my parents and calling my father and I both ‘Mr. Malfoy’ can get a bit confusing.”
The woman giggled, but agreed. It was Wendell who asked, “Is your family of noble origin?”
Draco frowned thoughtfully at the question for a moment. “I suppose you could say that,” he replied. “In fact, I do believe there is at least one ancestor who had been knighted and my family have always been quite wealthy. The estate has been with us for thousands of years, passed down through the first born son.”
Monica looked at him curiously. “What if the first born is a girl, though?” she asked. “Or what if you have no son at all?”
The wizard was a bit caught off guard by the question and blinked as his mind played around with the horrific scenarios. Merlin, he prayed Hermione would give birth to a son first. “If our first born happens to be a female, but we end up having a son after, the estate will still go to our son,” he explained carefully. “That’s how it’s always been done. However, our daughter would still be well provided for and given her fair share of the money.”
The two Muggles stared at him for a long moment and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “And if you don’t have a son at all?” Wendell asked.
Draco sighed. “Then I suppose we’ll do what my mother’s family did. My grandmother gave birth to three daughters before she and my grandfather gave it up as a bad joke,” he told them. “Their estate was broken three ways with my Aunt Bellatrix receiving the bulk of the inheritance due to being the eldest.”
“What an archaic way of doing things!” Monica observed.
The wizard shrugged as he glanced out of the window. “My family has more than enough money. Besides, my aunt and her husband were criminals. After she died and he became incarcerated, it was discovered that I was named their heir and have received everything,” he told them.
Monica’s eyes widened. “Criminals?” she breathed and Wendell stared at the boy.
Draco nodded as he stared down at his hands. “I am not proud of what they’ve done,” he told them. “But they were still my family. It is a shame what they had become.”
“It is,” Monica agreed, looking at the blond wizard sympathetically. “May I ask what…?”
“Murder,” he said, answering her question before she had the chance to finish. “My aunt went on a sort of… killing spree. She had become obsessed with this madman who was after some fancy notion of immortality.” He looked back up at the window and focused his attention on the passing foliage. “She murdered my cousin, her niece, and her husband and would’ve killed the son, too, if he had been present.” He grew quiet as thoughts of Teddy flashed through his mind. He had never met the boy, but Hermione often spoke highly of the child.
Monica held a hand over her mouth in horror. “Oh my God,” she whispered, glancing at her husband and then back at the boy. “How awful! I am so, so sorry for your loss.”
Draco closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Truthfully, I never knew them personally,” he admitted more to himself than to the Muggles. “Nymphadora was older than me and my Aunt Andromeda and her family had been shunned by the rest of the family. No one really cared for her husband, see? So, when Nymphadora married someone my Aunt Bellatrix thought was even worse…”
The Muggle woman shook her head. “What a wicked person!” she said. “The rest of your family isn’t like that, I hope?”
Draco glanced at her and gave her a soft smile. “That’s why we set up this little contest,” he explained. “It’s been years since we’ve had Mug… those like yourself on our estate. We at Malfoy Estates and Corporation wish to show the world that we’re much more evolved that those petty prejudices.”
“And what sort of people are we, Mr. Malfoy?” Wendell asked shrewdly. There was a glare in his eyes that reminded Draco of Hermione and he felt his heart clench.
The wizard took a deep breath. “I’m not sure you would understand, Mr. Wilkins,” he answered. “My father should be able to explain it all better once we get to the estate.”
“Why can’t you?” Wendell pressed.
Draco’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the man for a moment. He raised an eyebrow. “Alright,” he said as he straightened up and placed both feet firmly on the floor board. “You really want to know?”
Monica touched Wendell’s arm. “Oh don’t press him, love. There’s no telling…”
Draco took out his wand and showed it to them. He flicked it at the window to the driver, silently casting the privacy charm and turned back to the couple. “I’m a wizard,” he said simply and bluntly. Sitting back, he watched them and waited for their reactions.
They both stared at him. Monica’s eyes widened even more as her mouth dropped open. “You’re a what?” she asked the blond man.
“A wizard,” he repeated. “More to the point, I am what we call a ‘Pureblood’, meaning that the wizarding blood in my veins can be traced back for generations,” he explained. “For thousands of years, it was believed that being Pureblood was somehow better than being anything less. Muggles, such as yourselves, were sneered at and considered inferior.”
“That explains the unusual names,” Monica commented, though there was still a look of disbelief on her face. “Nymphadora? Bellatrix? And Wendell read on the internet that your father’s name is Lucius, am I correct?” At Draco’s nod, she continued, “Honestly, I thought the names sounded rather fantastical, as though you were all from some sort of Shakespearean play.”
“It still sound fantastical, Monica,” Wendell pointed out, still staring at Draco. “In fact, it sounds so fantastical, one could hardly believe it.”
Draco didn’t look away or blink, but inclined his head. “I suppose it would,” he agreed. “If it were not real,” he added as he waved his wand in the air and conjured a mobile. He dialled a number on it and held it up to his ear. “Hello, Father. Yes, I wanted to inform you that I have the Wilkins and am on my way home… It shouldn’t take long… Father, I should probably warn you that they know… Well, I sort of told them that we were wizards… No, just the Wilkins. The driver can’t hear us… Yes, sir… Like I said, we’ll be there shortly.” The moment he hung up the phone, it disappeared, causing Monica to jump.
“Where did it go?” she asked, glancing around as if she could find it.
Draco gave a half of a smirk. “It was just a spell,” he told her. “One that my wife taught our family and myself so we could communicate with one another. It’s actually pretty handy.”
Wendell continued to stare at the wizard. “You honestly expect us to believe all of this rubbish?” he asked.
The boy shrugged. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he muttered, then his eyes flashed. “But it is all true. I’m a wizard. In fact, my entire family are all wizards and witches, including my wife. Well, with the exception of my in-laws.”
Monica tilted her head curiously. “Your in-laws? They aren’t wizards?” she asked.
Draco shook his head. “They’re what we call ‘Muggles’ or non-magic folk. My wife is a Muggle born, as she is the first in her family to show any signs of magic,” he said.
“Another way for your family to show that you aren’t like your aunt?” Wendell suggested.
Draco frowned. “I married her because I love her,” he said, a bit annoyed. “She’s a wonderful person, Hermione Granger.”
“Hermione Granger?” Monica asked curiously. “That name does sound a bit familiar, though that could be because we’ve been going back and forth between you and your wife. Tell me, Draco, what is she like?”
The wizard sighed and did not bother to hide his smile. “She’s smart, witty, beautiful, and very brave,” he told her. “We used to attend school together and she was always brilliant. The brightest witch of our age, she was at the top of our class, though I came in at a close second.”
Monica smiled softly. “You really are fond of her, aren’t you?” She reached out to take his hand.
He stared at her red painted nails for a moment before allowing her to hold one of his hands with her small ones. He was amazed by how soft and warm her hands were, but he didn’t say anything. He would never admit it aloud, but Draco came to the conclusion that it was becoming more and more difficult to separate Muggles from Wizarding kind. And she looked so much like Hermione that he could actually feel his heart ache and he suddenly missed the witch, though he knew he would see her soon enough.
The Muggle patted the top of his hand. “You are such a polite gentleman, Draco,” she told him. “Your Hermione is so lucky to have you.”
He shook his head. “No, she’s not,” he said as memories of seeing the witch so dear to his heart lying on the ground in pain came to his mind. “I’m the lucky one.”
(II)(II)
As the Muggles stepped out of the limo Monica stared up at the Manor, her mouth hanging open in awe. “Oh, my God,” she gasped. Her head whipped around and she spotted Draco talking to the limo driver and handing the man a handful of pounds.
“This should cover a tip,” Draco said. “Thank you again for driving us.”
The man looked down at the neat stack of notes in his hand, his eyes widening. “Y-yes, of course,” he said as he shook hands with the wizard.
Draco smiled and patted the man’s arm. “Have a safe trip back, mate,” he stated.
The man nodded and bid the trio adieu before he got back into his car and left. Draco watched as the car left and raised his wand to reset the wards. Once that was done, he turned his attention back to the couple. Grabbing Monica’s bags, he hefted the lighter one over his shoulder and set the larger one on its wheels. “This would have been really nice when I was going to school,” he commented, giving the Muggle woman a smirk.
“You actually live here?” she asked as she glanced back at the Manor.
Draco followed her gaze and gave a little shrug. “I’ve lived here my entire life,” he told her. “However, after Hermione and I married, we found it prudent to move into our own home where we could build our lives together.” He glanced at Wendell to check how the Muggle was fairing, but he seemed to be doing well, so Draco started up the steps to the large doors. “My parents live here, though,” he added as he waved his wand at the doors to open them. “And Hermione and I will be staying here as well during the length of your stay.”
“This is where you’ll be celebrating her birthday?” Wendell asked as they stepped into the foyer.
Draco nodded. “There’s a ballroom near the centre of the Manor that you’ll see during the tour,” he explained. “My mother has already sent out invitations to many people, though we try to keep from inviting Muggles.”
“Why is that?” Wendell questioned, his eyes narrowing. “And why are we so special?”
Draco waved a hand in the air. “You won the contest and…”
“Oh, cut the shite, Malfoy,” the older man hissed. “You know as well as I do there was no contest. You even admitted that your own aunt murdered her niece for consorting with my kind. We’re not stupid. You lead us here with all these tales of a grand stay at one of the best estates in all of England, yet your website was non-existent until I mentioned something to your wife. Then, in the limousine, you tell us you’re a wizard and start waving your little stick around.”
The wizard’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the Muggle. “You think this is a trap,” he guessed.
The man raised an eyebrow. “Why have we been invited to a Manor that houses wizards when we didn’t even know your kind existed before we got into that limo?”
Draco frowned. “As I said, I’m really not the best person to explain things,” he said. Then, he shouted, “Maisey!”
Monica jumped as the loud crack signalled the small elf’s appearance. The Muggles stared at the creature with looks of horror and shock. “Yes, Master Draco, sir?” her small voice asked as she gave a small bow.
“Would you please take Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins bags to their rooms and check on supper for us? Or did my parents already eat?”
“No, sir, they have not. Master Lucius has been in conversation with Mrs. Hermione about her upcoming birthday celebration. He said he wanted to wait for to return home, sir, before supper was served,” she told him.
Draco nodded. “Then, if you would, please, make sure supper will be ready for us soon? And don’t forget to take care of that luggage.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, giving him another bow before turning to the Muggles and taking their bags. Another crack and she was gone.
“What was that?” Monica asked as Wendell commented, “Good God! Was that a Gremlin?”
“A what?” Draco asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. He opened his mouth and was about to explain what Maisey was when his body collided with Hermione running straight at him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him repeatedly. Breaking their kiss, she hugged him and whispered in his ear, “I’ve missed you so much. I tried calling, but your parents kept insisted you’d be home soon.”
He looked down at her, worry etched on his face. “What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked.
She gave him a coy smile and shook her head. “Nothing,” she answered. “I just missed you is all.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “Perhaps I should go on daily trips more often if I earn those type of greetings,” he teased.
She patted his shoulder lightly and turned. Her smile faltered as she saw the two Muggles standing there with mixtures of shock and fear on their faces. She quickly shook her head. “Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins, what a surprise to see you,” the Muggle born said as she stepped out of her husband’s embrace and approached them.
“What was that thing?” Wendell repeated.
“What thing?” she asked, glancing at Draco before turning back to her father.
“That… that Gremlin looking thing!” he exclaimed. “It took our bags and…”
Hermione glared at Draco. “You had one of the house elves come and fetch their bags while they were standing here watching? Are you mad?” she hissed. “They’re Muggles!”
Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“That much is obvious,” she spat in annoyance. “You can’t just have house elves appearing in front of them without warning.” She turned to the couple and offered them a sympathetic smile. “It’s alright,” she assured them. “That wasn’t a Gremlin.” She glared at Draco. “Who did you call?”
“Maisey, of course,” he replied with a frown. “Who do you think I would call?”
Hermione gave an annoyed sigh as she shook her head. “Maisey is what’s called a house elf,” she explained to the couple. “No one knows the true origins of house elves, but what is known is that they used to be highly hunted by big predators. Somewhere along the way, wizards had agreed to protect them in exchange for any help they could give us, so they mostly became household workers, since most wizards are often far too busy for common household chores. And house elves are more than happy to help.”
A small smile played on Draco’s lips as he listened to his wife explain the roles of house elves. He knew she was researching the topic. Like her, though, he had been reading more about elves. “However, if the elves are treated poorly, they are less likely to want to help out,” he added. “Which is why Hermione here has been fighting for elvish rights for years now.”
“I don’t fight for them for the Wizarding World’s benefit,” she argued, giving her husband an aggrieved look. “I do it for the elves. They deserve to be treating kindly and too many wizards have forgotten that. They…” she trailed off as she realized just what they were talking about and to whom.
She turned to the Wilkins and gave a nervous laugh. “But I’m sure neither of you care much about it,” she said. “You’re not even supposed to know about elves.” She elbowed her husband in the gut and Draco doubled over, his arm over his stomach.
“Witch!” he hissed. Through clenched teeth, he growled, “That’s the last time you do that. I’ve asked you not to hit me.”
Hermione shrugged and gave the couple a smile. “He’s ever the joker,” she told them. “If you would, please, I know Mr. and Mrs. Lucius Malfoy are both anxious to meet you and it would be rude to keep them waiting any longer. That being said, I am sure you would like to take a few moments to clean up. Supper is often a formal affair here at Malfoy Manor, after all. I’m sure Mr. Malfoy won’t mind if you freshen up a bit.”
“So, those things… those house elves… they won’t attack us, will they?” Wendell asked as he placed a hand on the small of his wife’s back.
The Muggle born witch shook her head. “Oh, heavens, no,” she said. “They wouldn’t do anything to displeasure those who care for them. Overall, house elves are rather peaceful creatures who would rather serve those who are stronger than they are.”
“They do resemble goblins,” Draco commented. “Now, those buggers…”
“Draco!” the witch hissed, glaring at him. “Shut up! Its bad enough they know of house elves now. Too much information too soon will only terrify them.” She glanced at the couple and sighed. “Come along.”
Wendell and Monica shared a look and then followed the witch.
“As I’m sure Draco has already told you,” the witch said conversationally as she led them down a hallway, “Malfoy Manor has been in the family for generations. It was first owned by Armand Malfoy who had been given the land for services rendered by King William I. As time went on, the family slowly expanded their lands through buying the properties of their neighbours.” She glanced at a tapestry of one of William the Conqueror’s battles and gave a small smile. “Everything you see here has a history and a story behind it. The Malfoys are astute collectors and tend to display some of their most prized possessions.”
“You’re making us sound like peacocks,” Draco groused as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Hermione giggled. “Ironically enough, they even breed rare albino peacocks,” she told the Muggle couple and Monica smiled.
“Why would you breed peacocks?” Wendell asked as Hermione opened a door and led them into a brightly lit room.
The room was decorated with soft pink roses over white and light blue and pine wood furniture. “Now, there’s a loo to the right,” she told them. “We’ll give you a few minutes to freshen up. When you’re done,” she said as she picked up a small device that looked like some sort of radio. “Just call me here on the walkie and we’ll come and get you.”
Draco leaned in to get a proper look at the globe. “Does that work for Muggles?” he asked.
Hermione nodded. She told him softly. “It’s what we called ‘Muggle magic’. At least that’s how we used to joke about it when I was little. It’s a simply device that doesn’t require too much to use. Your mother and I were testing them earlier because I know electronics don’t always work well around magic.” She gave a smile to the two Muggles. “We’ll return when you’ve summoned us.”
Draco held the door open for the witch and she slipped out. Once he closed the door behind himself, Draco felt and heard Hermione whip around and hug him. “Wha…?”
“Thank you!” she whispered as he turned in his spot so he could hug her back.
He smirked as his hands moved around her small body to return her hug. “You are very welcomed, love. I hope you’re not too cross with me for not telling you,” he said. “Honestly, I really wanted it to be a surprise.”
“My parents are coming to my birthday,” she stated as she looked up at him and giggled. “Draco, don’t you know what this means? Our family is finally whole! All we need is to restore their memories and…”
“Yes, I’ve been meaning to ask about that,” he said, frowning. “How do you intend to do this? Father’s forbidden a wand and you said the spell you had found required one.”
She shook her head and waved the problem away. “I’m sure you or your mum could lend him yours,” she commented. “Honestly, there’s enough magic going on in this manor it would be hard to tell who cast the spells, wouldn’t it?” She pushed away from him so she could pirouette. “My parents! Oh, Draco, this is the greatest gift I have ever received!” She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened. “That’s right! I forgot! There is something I wanted to tell you and what better time to do it than now? Draco, you’re going…”
The door to the bedroom opened at that moment and Wendell peeked down the hall with the walkie in his hand. He stared at the couple. “I thought the two of you left?” he commented and shook his head. “Never mind, then. Monica and I are ready.”
Hermione clapped her hands and giggled, her gaze going lovingly to Draco. The blond wizard’s eyes widened as he stared at the door. “Um, Hermione,” he whispered. “Uh…”
Wendell and Hermione both turned to see what Draco was staring at. Hermione’s eyes brightened while Wendell kept looking from his wife to the young witch. “By God, the resemblance is uncanny!” he breathed. “You could be sisters.”
“More like mother and daughter,” Draco commented without thinking. “I…” He snapped out of his shock. “You look beautiful Mrs. Wilkins.”
Monica blushed beautifully as she dipped her head. “Thank you,” she said. “And, please, call me Monica.”
The wizard inclined his head and glanced at Hermione. “Where are my parents?”
The bushy haired witch gave a nervous smile. “In the drawing room, my prince.”
While this room had held some of the foulest memories for the Muggle born, the renovation efforts Narcissa had been partaking in had really helped her to see the room as something other than the room where she was tortured. As they walked in, Lucius rose from his seat by the fire and Narcissa stepped closer to her husband, placing a hand on the top of the armchair.
Monica froze, her eyes widening. “Oh my God,” she whispered, touching a hand to her mouth as she openly stared at Lucius.
The wizard frowned slightly and tilted his head.
Hermione glanced curiously at her mother, but indicated the patriarch and his wife with a wave of her hand. “This is Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy, I would like to introduce to you Mr. Wendell Wilkins and his wife, Monica,” she said.
Leaning heavily on his walking stick, Lucius approached the couple and held out a hand to Wendell. “It is a pleasure to meet you both,” he greeted as he shook the Muggle’s hand and turned to woman. Taking her hand gently into his, he gave her a gentleman’s bow and brushed the top of her hand briefly with his lips.
Monica blushed furiously. “Oh, God,” she whispered and glanced at her husband. “I feel as if I’ve just been kissed by Merlin himself!”
Startled, Lucius straightened up and gazed at the woman in confusion as his wife moved closer to them to shake hands with the Muggles. “You know of Merlin?” he asked, curiously.
Narcissa touched her husband’s shoulder. “Of course they do, darling,” she said. “Didn’t we just have this discussion? Merlin is in Muggle fairytale books about King Arthur, after all.” She shook her head and glanced at Monica. “My husband is quite forgetful at times.”
The Muggle woman gave a rather weak smile as she continued to stare at the wizard. “I never thought I would ever see someone quite so…” She glanced at Hermione. “Is there Cupid blood in the family line somewhere?”
The Muggle born witch laughed. “Not at all,” she said. “But they are a rather nice mixture of Italian, French, and English.”
“And Greek God,” Monica added, as she turned her attention back to Lucius. “I was impressed with Draco’s hair, but now I see right where he gets it from. And those eyes! You don’t see eyes like that on mere mortals such as ourselves.”
“Hermione,” Narcissa warned, “she’s going to inflate his ego if she keeps talking like that.”
And it was true as Lucius’s lips curled up into a rather charming smile. “I am humbly flattered, madam,” he said, giving an actual bow to the Muggle. “We’ve had generations of careful breeding with the attempt to perfect our bloodlines.”
“’Generations of careful breeding’?” Wendell repeated a bit sourly. His frown definitely showed that he did not care much for his wife’s ogling. “You make it sound like you’re a bunch of show dogs who champion at the Westminster.”
“Wendell!” Monica reprimanded as she elbowed him in a way that echoed Hermione’s previous movement perfectly. Draco caught the movement and rubbed his stomach at the remembered pain. “Don’t be so rude! There’s nothing wrong with having a good breeding history.” The Muggle woman turned back to Lucius. “I’ve no doubt you’re very proud of your heritage, Mr. Malfoy.”
Lucius inclined his head. “That I am,” he confirmed. “As I should be, I believe.”
At that moment, a house elf Hermione didn’t recognize appeared in the room, startling Monica, and said, “Master, supper is ready.”
Lucius nodded. “Thank you, Bulap,” he said and the elf disappeared. Lucius straightened and took his wife’s hand, tucking it into his elbow. “Shall we proceed to the dining room?”
(II)(II)
As always, supper at Malfoy Manor left Hermione feeling full and satisfied. Conversation had been very difficult, of course, as they learned that Draco had let slip they were wizards. The small group ended up retiring back to the drawing room where Lucius poured glasses of brandy for himself, Draco, and Wendell.
“So much history here,” Monica breathed as she watched the portrait above the mantel move. “Do all the paintings move? Or is it just choice ones?”
Hermione joined the Muggle woman and smiled up at the portrait. It still managed to warm her heart to see how loving Lucius and Narcissa stood behind their young son. “They all do,” she explained. “The photos move as well.”
“Do they really?” the woman asked, placing a hand on her chest in astonishment.
Hermione nodded. “I’d always found magic fascinating,” she told the Muggle.
“Of that I don’t doubt,” Monica commented. “I believe Draco told us earlier that your parents were like Wendell and me. Is that true?”
Her heart skipped a beat and Hermione silently nodded. “They are very much like you,” she murmured cryptically.
Lucius glanced up at the Muggle born and downed the rest of his drink, which wasn’t much to begin with. He crossed the room slowly, leaning on his walking stick like always. “Hermione, my dear,” he said as he approached the two women, causing the others in the room to look at him.
The young witch looked up at him and could see the determination in his eyes. Meeting him by the bookshelves so he didn’t have to walk too far, she smiled up at him. “Yes?” she asked politely as her heart started beating faster.
He frowned and leaned against a chair and took a deep breath. “If you wish me to perform the counter spell tonight, I will need to borrow your wand,” he told her, his voice quiet.
Her eyes widened. “Why not use Draco’s or…?”
“Did you use Draco’s wand to cast the curse?” he asked, interrupting her.
She frowned, but shook her head and he continued, “I need the wand that had created the spell in order to perform its counter. You don’t have to worry, my pet. I’ll give it back when I am done.”
It took her a long moment of observing the wizard before she finally took out her wand to hand to him. She hesitated at the last moment, but a meaningful look from him had her hand it over. They were family now. She could trust him. At least, that’s what she hoped.
Lucius glanced down at the wand in his hand, his eyes becoming hooded at the feel of the wood between his fingers. “What is it made of?” he asked almost reverently.
“Vine,” she replied. “With dragon heartstring.”
He inclined his head and whispered to her, “Get your parents close together so I don’t have to execute the spell twice.”
Hermione swore her heart was beating so hard that everyone in the room could hear it, but if they could, no one said anything. She turned and looked at the bookshelf, her eyes scanning the books. Finally seeing a book on wizards that she thought was interesting, she called, “Mr. and Mrs, Wilkins? Will you come here a moment? I think you’ll find this book quite interesting.”
As the Muggle born walked towards the centre of the room, the two Muggles joined her. She opened the book and began talking to them about the Wizard sport of Quidditch as Draco and his mother joined Lucius by the bookshelf. Lucius was still holding the wand gently, caressing the wood like a long lost lover.
“You’re going to have to give that back, you know,” Draco pointed out as he watched his father.
“I know, son,” the older wizard stated. “My wand had a dragon heartstring core, as did your mother’s.” He glanced at the young wizard. “What’s the core of your wand now?”
Draco blinked. “Unicorn hair, just like my old one,” he replied. “Is there a significance?”
Lucius looked back at the wand in his hand and shook his head. “I don’t know, but I believe there is something. If I knew he’d speak to me, I would send a letter to Ollivander and ask, but I think I’ve burned that bridge,” he said. There was a longing sadness in Lucius’s eyes that Draco had never seen before.
Finally, the patriarch lifted the wand, flicked it, and hissed, “Recordare!” Blue wisps of smoke flew out of the wand and towards the two Muggles who were bent over the book Hermione showed them.
Time stood still as the Muggles straightened up and their eyes seemed to become somehow less cloudy. They both blinked several times. Then, the Muggle woman looked at her daughter. “Hermione?” she asked.
“Mum!” the girl cried with tears in her eyes. “Dad!”
The trio threw their arms around one another. Watching the scene from the bookshelf, Narcissa reached out and took her husband’s hand in one of her own and her son’s in the other. Lucius looked at his wife and, propping his walking stick against the chair, touched her cheek with his free hand. “Hey,” he whispered. When she looked at him with watery eyes, he kissed her gently.
Though the sight of his parents kissing wasn’t one of Draco’s favourite things, he didn’t release his mother’s hand. The blond wizard watched his wife as she hugged her parents. He knew they were whispering things to one another, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Oh, my sweetheart, my darling girl,” Mrs. Granger was saying. “What happened? What did you do?”
“I am so, so sorry, Mum,” the girl said, tears falling freely from her eyes. “I never wanted to cast that stupid spell, but I had to. The Wizarding world was becoming more and more dangerous and I had to help Harry and Ron on their mission to defeat Voldemort.” She guided her parents to the chairs by the fireplace and sat down. “I promised myself that I would reverse the spell once he was dead. I even went to Australia, but the counter I had wouldn’t work. And I tried, I really did. I must have cast it a thousand times.”
Mrs. Granger patted her daughter’s hand. “The important thing is we’re together again,” she said.
Hermione’s wand pressed against the Muggle born’s hand. Looking down at the light wood, her eyes filled with even more tears as they shot up to the wizard. Standing, she threw her arms around his neck, tangling her hands in his long hair in the process, but she didn’t care. “Thank you,” she wept. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”
She had surprised him when she hugged him, but Lucius quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around her waist to return her hug. “You’ve given me a life outside of prison walls,” he whispered to her. “You’ve married my son and have helped us rebuild our reputation.” He broke away from her and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “There’s nothing to repay,” he said a bit louder so the others would hear. “We’re family.”
“Wait,” Mr. Granger interrupted, putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and turning her to face him. “You’re married.”
The Muggle born nodded, but her smile turned sad. “I am,” she replied honestly. “I –“
“You married without your mother and me to give you away,” he said, his eyes hardening. “Hermione Jean Granger, I know we’ve raised you better than that.”
The young witch straightened up. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to her like that and if it had been anyone but one of her parents, she would have probably hexed them. As it was, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “I know. I should have waited, but –.”
“We were both in a rush to marry, sir,” Draco said, stepping up to defend his wife. “We had wanted to be together for years and…”
“I remember you,” the Muggle woman said suddenly, looking at Draco with new eyes. “Didn’t you used to antagonize Hermione and her friends?”
“Well, yes,” he admitted. He then chuckled, “But surely you know how young boys can be? They see a girl they think is pretty, but don’t want to admit it at the time, so they tease her instead.”
“For six years?” she prodded. “Surely at some point during that time the fear of cooties would disappear to be replaced with something a bit more romantic.”
Draco could feel himself paling, but he ignored it. “Well, this is true,” he confessed, his eyes glancing at his curious parents and back again.
Hermione leaned against him, resting a hand on his chest. “It was a difficult time,” she told her parents. “With Voldemort’s return, having a Pureblood date a Muggle born, especially if that Pureblood was a Malfoy, was completely unthinkable.”
“And why is that?” Mr. Granger asked, his eyes going back and forth between his daughter and the wizard she held.
It was Lucius who spoke up, “Years ago, before either of our children were born, I had joined the Death Eater ranks. However, after the Dark Lord disappeared the first time, I still felt a bit of loyalty to the beliefs he had held.” He tapped his cane on the ground once and continued, “No one expected him to return and I admit I was beginning to feel rather comfortable in my own skin. But the Dark Lord did return and the idea that my son could be in love with a Muggle born wasn’t just unthinkable, it was also dangerous. If the Dark Lord would have learned of my son’s affection for your daughter, I assure you they both would have been murdered.”
“By Bellatrix, no doubt,” Mrs. Granger guessed
Lucius inclined his head. “Now that the Dark Lord is vanquished and Bellatrix is dead, my son and your daughter are free to love one another without any fear,” he told them.
“I wish you had been there,” Draco proclaimed. “In our fourth year, I had stolen a kiss from Hermione as we danced during the Yule Ball. From that moment, I had dreamed of being given the opportunity to ask your permission to marry her,” he told them. “But when the time came, I had learned that the two of you had settled in Australia with your memories erased. Because my father was a Death Eater, he had been incarcerated almost the moment after the battle was won by Harry Potter and those who fought with him. We needed him out, but the Minister wouldn’t listen to us, even though my father had done nothing wrong when the Dark Lord had returned.”
“So you decide to just marry her?” Mr. Granger asked. “Did you think that by marrying her, your father would be cleared of his charges? And what about her career?” He glanced at the Muggle born. “You had a lot of plans for your future, if I recall. What has happened to those ideas?”
“I’m still moving forward with them,” Hermione said. “And Draco and his father have been helping me. Even Mrs. Malfoy helps.”
“You are still a bit young, Hermione,” her mother stated. “You both are. I’ve no doubt that Draco is a lovely lad now, he’s certainly been courteous and kind since we’ve met, but… How long were you engaged?”
“A few weeks,” the Muggle born answered faintly.
“’A few weeks!’” Mr. Granger repeated, raising his voice. “Are you mad? How long did you date?”
“Does it matter?” Draco asked, noticing his wife was becoming uncomfortable. “We’re happy, we’re in love, we’re…”
“Pregnant,” Hermione blurted out. She stared at her stunned husband. “I checked this morning. I’m pregnant.”

Author's Note: O.O Wait what?
To the one person who did get to reply, discord_the_lunatic, I hope you have enjoyed this chapter and I do thank you for the review.
Reviews are back! Yay! So, if you would like, please leave a review and let me know what you think! Like I said, I always look forward to hearing what you have to say.
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