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The Pianist	By : goldhorse Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13338 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own HP, JK Rowling does. I make no money doing this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
“They look horrible,” Andrei said flatly as he watched Hermione’s dancers run through their routine again. “When is final production?”
“Two weeks,” Hermione said softly, cringing when the female lead missed her mark yet again.
“They’ve been practicing since September!” Andrei cried in outrage.
Hermione bit her lip. “I know. It’s a mess. Rose will be home tomorrow. I’ve taken a holiday from the Ministry so I can polish this and it only keeps getting worse. They’ve already postponed final production three times because things keep happening, dancers getting hurt, theater availability, and whatever else you could imagine. And the leads are just… deteriorating.”
“He is very dispassionate and rigid,” Andrei said, noticing the way the male lead let go of his partner like she’d been dipped in acid.
“Very. But I’ve seen some of his other numbers and he’s amazing, very limber and fluid. He used to be that good in this number as well. I just don’t understand.”
“Well it is obvious they don’t like each other.”
She snorted. “That shouldn’t stop a good dancer from dancing.”
“A good point,” Andrei said. “Oksana absolutely hates the new lead but they still dance beautifully together.”
“That’s what I mean. It shouldn’t matter if you hate the person or not. You both have a job to do. You do it.”
“So the question becomes who you remove to fix the problem.”
“I can’t remove either one,” Hermione sighed. “They’re permanent leads in every other number.”
“Then we replace each part until we find the breakdown.”
“And if they both run smoothly without the other?”
“We can work on that when we get there,” Andrei said. “So who goes first, you or me?”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Nonsense. Besides, I am bored. The Company is off for a few months and I must find something to keep myself busy, lest I go insane.”
“I would think Ivan would keep you plenty busy,” she said dryly.
Andrei smirked. “He is visiting his family.”
“And you didn’t go because….”
He sighed sadly. “He still has not told them about me.”
“Why not?” she cried.
He put his hand on her shoulder so she would calm down. “They know he is gay and that he is dating me… but he hasn’t told them about my heritage.”
“Oh,” she breathed and then furrowed her brow. “But that shouldn’t change anything. You don’t really use magic all that much. You’re very conscious of it because of your job.”
“But he wants me to be able to be myself, the man he is in love with. Not the ballet dancer everyone sees performing on stage, but the wizard that likes to make candles dance at dinner.”
She smiled. “That’s so sweet.”
“Such a sucker for romance. And yet, you have no man of your own.”
Her face fell and she sighed heavily. “It’s complicated.”
“I don’t see how. He is single. You are single.”
“He is fighting a custody battle for his son.”
Andrei looked horrified. “Why?”
She frowned darkly. “His ex-wife is a greedy selfish bitch who has no regard for what her son wants. While granting divorce is easy and fast if you can grease a few palms, granting custody of a child to a former Death Eater is not. They’ve practically put him on trial again. He’s had to be very careful about who he is seen associating with, staying low to avoid rumors or scandals. And he doesn’t want me to have to testify again.”
“Why not?”
“They practically crucified me on the stand last time in their slavering zealousness to convict every last Death Eater, guilty or not. I dared suggest that not every Death Eater was there because they wanted to be. He didn’t want me to testify for him the first time but he had no say in it. This time he does.”
“Unless his ex-wife demands it.”
“She won’t,” she said fiercely. “Remember? I ruined him.”
“Ah yes, you discovered his heart. How incredibly atrocious.”
She hummed in agreement. “Now, are you going to get up there or are we going to sit here and moan about our love lives some more?”
He snorted. “He is rubbing off on you, whether you associate together or not. But I am going.”
She watched in amazement as the dance went horribly with Andrei as the replacement male lead. While the dance wasn’t near as stiff, the lead still missed her marks. She realized it was some of the sexier moves that she was having the most difficulty with. At least the overall dance went more smoothly. So part of it was the male lead and part wasn’t. She wondered what would happen when she substituted herself.
“He’s still stiff.”
Hermione spun around in shock to see Draco smirking at her. He looked gorgeous, dressed in simple Muggle denims and a button down that matched his eyes. She hadn’t seen him in months. They’d had a simple tea at a little muggle shop in London on Valentine ’s Day thinking no one would spot them. Wrong. It caused so much unwanted attention that they agreed to stop meeting all together until Scorpius’s custody hearings were over. She wanted to run to him and squeeze the life out of him but thought it might not be wise. He’d been tailed everywhere. He probably had a Ministry worker assigned to oversee his daily activities… which meant this was not a social call. She gathered her wits and schooled her face to remain neutral.
“I told you he dances ballet, not contemporary. It’s a very different approach.”
Draco smirked. “So you did. Exactly why is he up there?”
She sighed and turned back to see Andrei pull off a beautiful lift, one the male lead hadn’t been able to get right. She wondered if it was because it required a brace near the crotch where one normally didn’t hold. Was it too personal? Was he scared of hurting her? Was he disgusted by having to touch a female? She couldn’t possibly begin to figure it out.
“The dance is breaking down somewhere.”
“Well, she’s terrible for one,” Draco said, cocking his head when the lead botched a move meant to accentuate her curves.
“She wasn’t this bad a few weeks ago,” Hermione said, studying the pained movements. “In fact, she was so amazing when she first auditioned that I was excited.”
“When did this travesty happen,” he asked, studying her stilted moves.
“It’s been gradual but very prominent over the past three weeks or so.”
Draco hummed. “I assume you’ll be switching out with her?”
Hermione nodded and he grinned but it quickly fell when the theater door opened. She spun to see what had changed his mood so drastically. At least she understood then. Seeing Mathelda Hopkirk’s ill-tempered replacement would ruin anyone’s day. It was like Percy and Snape had created a love child with Delores Umbridge. Phillip Westley Stephens was an anal retentive prick with the charm of a flobberworm, the temper of a hippogriff, and the ambition of Voldemort. He operated under the delusion that he was indispensable and everyone loved him. Not true in the slightest.
“Think you could put off that dance for a few minutes?” Draco growled under his breath.
“Um, sure,” she sighed, glad the music had ended just then. She cleared her throat and used the megaphone to speak with the dancers. “That was… interesting. Everyone take a break, no more than fifteen minutes. Make sure you stay limber. Drink plenty of water. And… I believe I’d like an assessment of how you think this production is going.”
“Ouch,” Draco snickered. “Homework, Professor Granger?”
“That’s Dance Mistress Granger to you, Malfoy,” she teased playfully.
“So this was you big reason for skiving off from the Ministry?”
Hermione cringed when Phillip’s nasally voice assaulted her ears. It was almost as bad as listening to that awful throat clearing thing Umbridge used to do. At least he didn’t make anyone use a blood quill, though she wouldn’t be surprised if he was a fan of the medieval torture devices. She turned to him as sharply as he could, knowing quick movements startled him. It was probably awful of her, but she got a little thrill watching him jump.
“How I chose to spend my hard earned holiday is really none of your business is it, Stephens?” she snapped, admiring his purple flush.
Stephens stuttered for a few minutes before blustering. “I was just making an observation. Why you’d spend your holiday cavorting with muggle sex workers instead of furthering your progress on your bill-“
“First of all,” she growled. “These are highly trained dancers, most classically trained in ballet by teachers that would make Voldemort cry they dance so beautifully. And second, you might want to watch who you’re calling muggles.”
The portly balding man’s eyes got wide as galleons. “What?”
She heard Andrei clear his throat. “I am not a muggle, nor are half the dancers here today. To make an assumption that only muggles would dance in a provocative nature suggests that you are both incredibly short-sighted and entirely too sanctimonious in your standings as a Ministry worker and as a wizard. And possibly that you are a prude, or worse, still living in your mother’s basement because no one would touch you.”
“How dare you speak to a Ministry appointed-“
“I will speak to Ministry trash however I wish,” Andrei growled. “And if you dare consider bowing up to me little man, I will make sure you know who I am.”
Draco narrowed his eyes in thought before they went big as galleons. “Chuchka. That’s not your name is it?”
Andrei smirked. “It is for those in my position.”
“What are you talking about?” Stephens growled.
Draco gave him a Cheshire grin. “What’s the matter, Stephens? Did you not study your royalty standards in your infinite search for pureblood superiority?” Stephens merely frowned. “Thought not. Chuchka is an old Russian standard name, reserved for those of royal blood who have either been blasted from their family tree or wish to blend in with us regular old wizards.”
Andrei snorted. “Regular? You, Lord Malfoy?”
Draco smirked. “I was trying to be polite. Either way, no matter if he was blasted or decided to leave his old life behind, he’s still royalty, which means that insulting him is considered an act of war.”
Stephens turned white and teetered on his feet for a moment. “I… I… I…”
“Oh, do stop stuttering,” Draco growled. “It’s most unbecoming.”
“Besides,” Andrei purred. “I would consider forgetting the incident if it is kept secret where you found me. Oh, and quit pestering my friends.”
“Y-yes of course,” Stephens said weakly. “I… I just needed to serve Miss Granger.”
Draco’s jaw tightened but he nodded just the same, his eyes never leaving Hermione’s as Stephens went through the pomp and circumstance to deliver the summons. Hermione rolled her eyes as Stephens practically fell all over himself, thanking Andrei for his silence and wishing them all a good day before tripping out the door.
Andrei snorted. “Yet another reason I am glad to not be royal any longer.”
“Do you think he’ll actually read the standards?” Hermione asked softly.
Draco chuckled. “Nah. They’re in Russian, buried in a book that translation charms are forbidden to be used on. Besides, technically, Andrei is still royal, blasted or not.”
Andrei pouted. “I do believe I hate you, Malfoy.”
Draco smirked. “Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.”
“Honestly,” Hermione chided. “Where are you getting all these muggle things from anyway?”
Draco’s face fell and he looked a little sheepish. “An insane desire to make up for the past?” Hermione quirked an eyebrow, not believing him for a second. He sighed. “Fine. An insane desire to be closer to you… however I could.”
She blinked back sudden tears at the sentiment. “Why is she summoning me?”
Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She’s not. I am. I know what I said but I spoke with my barrister and they said without your testimony, Scorpius’s custody trials could stretch well into the new school year.”
“And with my testimony?”
“A few days… as long as Potter agrees to testify as well.”
“They’ve served him then?”
Draco nodded. “Worst bloody day ever.”
“Sure about that?” she asked softly.
Draco sighed and yanked her into a hug. “Definitely not. But I do hate having to drag you into anything else.”
She smiled. “I’m a big girl you know.”
He chuckled. “Yes. And I am very anxious to see you get up there and show those armatures how it’s done.”
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“You don’t have to do this,” Draco whispered through the floo.
Hermione sighed and nervously straightened her skirt. “You know I do.”
“Hermione, they’re going to use veritiserum.”
She nodded, slipping on her shoes. The hearing was only a few hours away. “They did before.”
His jaw tightened. “How did you manage to keep our… meetings a secret?”
She smiled. “You only answer the questions they ask.”
He chuckled. “You might have a little Slytherin in you yet.”
She smirked evilly. “I did once.”
He growled. “Damn it Hermione, don’t do that.”
She chuckled. “Why ever not?”
He groaned and rubbed his face. “Because it is taking everything I have not to come barreling through this floo and fuck you into the nearest surface.”
She shivered. “Is this floo being monitored?”
He scoffed. “Give me a little credit. But they would certainly register if I were to bodily throw myself through the call. So dial it down a little.”
“Why are you worried? Do you think Lucius would actually murder you?”
“I can take care of myself. I’m actually more worried about you. Boy wonder and the weasel won’t be thrilled.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ron can sod off… and Harry already knows.”
“He what?”
She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “He figured it out all on his own… and he’s okay with it. He thinks we’re both daft for marrying other people and he’s especially angry with me for stringing Ron along, but he’s okay with it.”
“Huh. Potter grew up, ey?”
“Fighting a war will do that to people.”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered bitterly. “When this is over and your production is on the road, I’d like to take the children to America for a while. The Ministry can’t spy on us there and we can take in the sights.”
She smiled. “I took a sabbatical for the production and to spend some time with Rose. I don’t have to report back to work until the start of the school year. I just need to send regular updates on how the potion is coming along.”
“We can drop in on your potions master while we’re there,” Draco offered.
She nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’d much rather speak with him face to face than have to send encoded owls to him.”
He looked at his pocket watch and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll see you in court?”
She nodded. “Yes, Rose and I will be there front and center.”
“Scorpius has to be there today. Merlin I wish he didn’t have to be. Astoria has been a complete bitch the entire trial, bringing up things from my past even I don’t remember. I really wish he didn’t have to hear them.”
“Is he allowed to sit anywhere?”
He nodded. “It’s his choice.”
“He can sit with Rose if he’d like. Harry will be there as well so he won’t be alone when I get up on the stand.”
“Hermione,” he whispered. “If… if things get discovered…”
“I’m not ashamed,” she said firmly. “We didn’t do anything that other people weren’t doing at that time. We were all terrified out of our wits, searching for a bit of comfort in a dark time.” She melted when his eyes flickered with hurt. “I didn’t say that was all I found in that room.”
He gave her a faint smile and then grimaced. “I just hope that if Lucius has to hear it, he might keel over from the sheer shock of it all.”
“How frail is he… really?”
“Not as frail as I’d like,” he said darkly. “I’ve already had to fight off a few attacks and I refuse to eat at the Manor anymore. The elves still have to obey him and I wouldn’t put it past them to slip something into the food.”
“That’s horrible!”
He shrugged. “Welcome to life with Lucius. His family name has been besmirched and he hasn’t been in his right mind for a very long time.”
“Why don’t you report him? They’d put him back in Azkaban for attempted murder.”
He snorted. “The Aurors are probably hoping we kill each other. Besides, if he stays in Azkaban, I won’t be able to lift the curse.”
“You have to wait for him to die anyway. Maybe he’ll go downhill faster.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Besides, if he wastes his energy trying to take me out, it might be much faster.”
She frowned. “I’m not sure I like how glibly you’re talking about his death.”
He sighed and rubbed his brow. “I saw his true colors years ago. It’s hard to have any sympathy for a man willing to bargain his own son for his freedom. And now that I have a son of my own, I just… I can’t imagine letting Scorpius near any situation like that. I’d die first. Wouldn’t you for Rose?”
“In a heartbeat.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought. Any parent would. My mother begged a man to lay down his life for mine. But Lucius is as cold and unfeeling as You-Know-Who was. There isn’t a shred of empathy, humility, or even much humanity in him anymore. I knew that the day he got out of Azkaban.”
She shivered at the dark way he expressed his thoughts. “He begged Voldemort to go look for you.”
He scoffed. “He wanted to make sure his bloodline carried on. He told me as much afterwards. If he would have been allowed to leave the battle, he would have dragged me off to a chalet in France where Astoria was hiding out and made me knock her up right then after a quick and dirty binding.”
She stared at him in shock. She honestly didn’t think Lucius was that cruel but judging from the look in Draco’s eyes, he was. He had no reason to lie to her now. She swiped a tear from her eye and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled sadly. “Not your fault. But I have to go now.”
She nodded and bade him goodbye, her stomach in knots.
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“And you expect us to believe that?”
Hermione cursed the Wizengamet a third time as she struggled to calm the tremors in her hands. One sentence. Seven words. How in the bloody hell did they lead to this? Whether or not Draco actually could play the piano and she could dance was entirely irrelevant to Scorpius’s care. But she knew they were a novelty. No one could understand how simply dancing for a boy could change his mind. They couldn’t fathom that it had been turning before that. It simply needed a push, a little tenderness and love, and perhaps a scantily clad female dancing ballet.
“Ms. Granger, we’re waiting,” Kingsley drawled.
She gave a curt nod and stepped onto the dance floor. She couldn’t believe she’d had to call Andrei and beg for the use of his studio, but it was the only place she knew of that had a dance floor, a baby grand piano, and enough room for everyone in the Wizengamet. She looked around, catching Andrei’s smirking face. Astoria’s barrister had turned about ten shades of white when he realized who Andrei was. She wondered what the story there was but she knew that Andrei wouldn’t tell it until he was damned good and ready.
“How about a warm up?” Draco asked quietly.
She nodded, trying not to smile when he stripped down to a simple t-shirt and trousers. The Wizengamet was scandalized, but maybe not quite as much as when she’d stripped to her dancing clothes. She needed to be able to move and she knew Draco wasn’t comfortable playing in his dress robes. Instead of gawking like she wanted to, she stretched a few minutes as he warmed his fingers up. Then she nodded and he began to play.
The song was a quick little thing, no longer than a minute. But it was complex. She closed her eyes and spun slowly, like she imagined a music box ballerina doing. Then she gave a little leap, going down into the splits, waving her arms in time with the music. She hadn’t bothered to bind her hair but now she wondered if it wasn’t a good idea to. She was practically drowning in it. The music stopped abruptly and she wrestled the mop into a pony tail.
“That was hardly inspiring,” Astoria’s barrister called.
Draco sneered at him. “Hence the term warm up.”
“I liked it,” Rose said softly.
“Me too,” Scorpius piped in.
Draco grinned at his son. “Then you’ll love this. Granger, a little ballet if you please?”
“You have no shoes,” Andrei protested.
“I didn’t have them then either,” Hermione said softly, bowing to Draco to start.
He started playing and she closed her eyes to feel the music. She imagined it was the tune of a muggle music box, the ballerina springing up to entertain the watcher. She braced on her toes and tip toed across the stage, hands in the air for balance and a semblance of grace. It really was difficult without the proper footwear. The music had a slightly menacing feel to it, like the ballet dancer had a much bigger role than simply spinning in a circle. She spun quickly, opening up into a leap before doing several pirouettes, pointing her toes with each rotation. She leapt again, going through an old bar routine she remembered from when she was young. The music slowed and she made sure to match it, hoping that this pleased the jury. The burn in her legs made her smile and she leapt again, landing in the splits as the music slowed even further. She simply moved her upper body until it died out.
Andrei’s clapping combined with the children cheering was deafening. Several members of the Wizengamet had their jaws hanging open in a most unbecoming fashion. Others had soft smiles while some were frowning, not quite believing what they’d seen or heard. Harry had a look of disbelief on his face. Kingsley was grinning from ear to ear, a sharp contrast from the dark scowl of Astoria’s barrister… or the death glare she was giving. Hermione simply smirked at her and gracefully got up from her position, nodding her thanks to Draco. His eyes were glowing with appreciation and a hint of lust.
“That’s all well and good,” Astoria’s barrister blustered. “But it isn’t the interpretive dancing that Mr. Malfoy claims captured him.”
Draco cleared his throat and began a heavy tune, Arabian sounding. Hermione grinned and pretended to put a scarf in front of her face. She danced as close to a belly dancer as she could. As the music wore on, she pictured herself on a stage, dancing for entertainment. The music started to crescendo and she realized that she was in bonds. She tried to struggle free from them but couldn’t. She pulled and tugged but couldn’t break the chains, falling to the floor in grief, the music slowing. Then she got up, resigned to her fate and danced for the crowd. She realized that she was telling Draco’s story, the story of a boy trapped by society and his father and later by an evil lord. The music rose again and she caught sight of someone in the crowd and pretended to blush. She hid her face, and noticed that the mystery person was coming to free her. She tried distracting her guards so he could get to her bonds. She was free! They embraced, running out of the building. They were together, they were free! It was like when she and Draco were in the room together, finally free of everyone’s prying eyes.
The music changed, faster with a heavy undertow. They were being attacked. They ran, fighting the entire way, slashing with swords and ducking and dodging guns and goons. She managed to stab one attacker while her rescuer did away with the other and they were free again. She breathed a sigh of relief and hugged her rescuer tightly, listening to the music slow. The same rift as earlier was back and they danced, free at last, no worries. They spun and fell in love, enjoying the moment and each other. The music slowed and she mimed going to bed, resting on her lover’s chest, safe. Then the song was over.
She looked up, noticing that several people had teared up. Draco’s eyes were shiny, though he wasn’t crying. She felt like she wanted to. It was what she had hoped his story would be, fighting and winning, not having to crawl back and go through it again. She wanted to lay with him in bed in comforting silence, not stare at the ceiling and wonder if he was doing the same. At least she’d managed to make the entire room speechless.
Kingsley cleared his throat, dabbing at his eyes a bit. “In light of this new evidence, we’d like to take this time to deliberate. We’ll call a short recess.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes as Astoria marched over to Draco. “You lied to me!”
He sniffed. “I did nothing of the sort. You asked if I would play for you. I said no. You assumed I didn’t play at all.” She opened her mouth to continue when he cut her off with a wave to their son. “Come on Scorpius. We don’t get to play together enough.”
“What are we playing father?” Scorpius asked as he hurried across the room.
“How about some Chopsticks?”
“Wicked,” Scorpius said with a grin. “We haven’t played that in ages!”
“He plays?” Astoria asked, seething. Hermione wondered if her face would break from the ugly way she had it twisted.
Draco sniffed. “If you would have cared to spend time with him instead of your numerous lovers, you would have realized that I started teaching him when he was two.”
Scorpius studiously ignored his mother’s indignant screeching to sit with his father at the piano on his right side. Astoria’s barrister dragged her backwards, hissing in her ear the entire time. Hermione imagined she was being berated for her behavior in open view of the Wizengamet. She hoped the cow lost her case with her harpy-like behavior. Surely they could see she didn’t deserve to have Scorpius. But her thoughts stuttered to a stop when she the boys start to play.
It was amazing. They grinned at each other and gave a mock bow before perching above the keys, daring the other to start. Scorpius started with two sharp notes and Draco followed with two low ones. They went back and forth, each quirking a brow at the other when it was there turn. Then they really started playing, getting into it, bobbing their heads and razzing each other. At one point, Draco playfully shoved Scorpius from the bench as he did a long scale. His son grinned and dashed over to the other side of the bench, expertly picking up where they left off before finishing with a flourish.
Draco winked and Scorpius nodded enthusiastically. Draco got off the bench and bowed to his son, motioning for him to continue. Hermione’s jaw dropped when he started playing Flight of the Bumblebee. Rose squealed in delight, running across the floor to spin furious circles on her toes. The Wizengamet, long giving up the pretense of actually debating anything, stopped to stare at Scorpius banging out the difficult tune. The applause when he finished was deafening. Rose practically tackled him off the bench in congratulations.
Hermione watched with tears in her eyes as Scorpius soaked up the attention. She wondered what Draco would be like if he’d been given the same attention Scorpius was now. Unfortunately, he hadn’t. He’d grown up under the dark cloud that was Lucius, who was currently glaring daggers at Draco while Narcissa clapped for their grandson by his side, seemingly oblivious. She wasn’t the only one who noticed the black look though. Harry caught her eye and glanced over toward Lucius. So, he’d noticed as well.
She watched as Harry casually walked across the room, stopping to congratulate Scorpius on a stellar performance before walking over to her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet for a few minutes, debating on what to say. Finally, she’d had enough.
“Oh, come off it Harry. What did you want to tell me?”
Harry smiled sheepishly. “You’re good.”
She blushed. “Thanks.”
He leaned in closer. “And I think I understand now. You two need to be careful.”
“You think? If looks could kill…”
Harry hummed. “So this is why you’ve kept those music boxes.”
She smiled at him. “Music can change everything.”
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“Ms. Granger,” Snape said flatly as he opened the door.
“What, no hi for me?” Draco said with a mock pout.
Snape scoffed and stepped back, bidding them entrance. “Well?”
Draco grinned as Scorpius bound through the door. “Dad won! He has me forever!”
“I was under the impression that he would anyway,” Snape drawled, walking gracefully into his sitting room.
“But I get to stay with him permanently. I don’t have to go with mother to France.”
“Congratulations,” Snape drawled dryly. He turned to Draco. “Lucius?”
Draco frowned. “He’s moved on to poison darts.”
Snape scowled. “How… utterly plebian.”
Hermione couldn’t contain her giggle. When Snape raised a questioning eyebrow, she shook her head. “Only you would find poison darts plebian.”
“They are for Lucius.”
She huffed. “Whatever. I wish that man would just… just… ooooh.”
“Wow,” Rose said with a giggle. “You’ve made mom lose her words. That never happens.”
“Thank you Rose,” Hermione growled. “Now, if everyone is done being ridiculous, can I please speak with Professor Snape for five minutes.”
“I am not your professor Ms. Granger,” Snape sighed. “Let us go to my lab to talk, but we must be quick. The baby will wake any moment and Penelope ran to the market to pick up some nappies. Draco?”
Draco smiled. “I’ll watch the children Severus.”
“Baby?” Hermione asked.
Snape nodded. “Penelope was pregnant at Christmas but we were reluctant to say anything since she lost the last one.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hermione whispered.
“Life,” he said simply.
“What’s the baby’s name?” she asked.
Snape smiled softly. “Elizabeth Lillian.”
“That’s beautiful!”
“Thank you. Shall we?”
Hermione followed him into his basement, eager to get a full report on how his experiments were coming along. She had finally gotten her part of production ironed out and the dancers were on the road now. Who would have thought it was their reluctance to upset their respective boyfriends that made them dance horribly? She sure didn’t. But a long talk with both dancers and everything fell into place. Now she was happy to take a moment to catch up with her old professor.
“I assume you’d like your report first?” Snape asked as she shut the door behind her.
“If you don’t mind, Sir.”
“Ms. Granger, how many times must I remind you that I am merely a colleague now?”
She blushed scarlet and looked away. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
“See that you break it,” he said harshly. “If you must address me, use my given name. Now, I have made some advancements in the potion. Werewolves should only need to take it the night before transformation. It should last the month but I need test subjects to be sure.”
She nodded. “I’ll send out a query as soon as we’re done here. The next full moon is about a week away. I should have several by then. They’re all desperate.”
Snape nodded. “As far as a cure, I’m afraid that will be a much longer endeavor. I will also require the blood of several werewolves so I can cross reference anomalies from their human genetics versus the lycanthropy.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, blushing when he scowled at her. “I’ll send that request out with the other.”
Snape gave a curt nod. “How is Lupin’s child doing?”
Hermione’s eyes widened in shock before she cleared her head with a shake. “He’s well. He shows no signs of lycanthropy. Actually, he’s a metamorph like Tonks. He loves changing his hair.”
Snape nodded. “I wondered if his guardian would consent to me taking some of his blood as well. From a hereditary standpoint, his lack of lycanthropy could be a link. I should like to study it.”
“I’ll speak with Harry tonight.”
“Potter?” he asked, a manic light in his eye.
“Um, Harry is his guardian, sir… um Severus. He misses you.”
Snape snorted. “Silly Gryffindor sentiment.”
“He’s named his youngest son after you.”
“What?” Snape hissed.
She nodded. “Albus Severus has Ginny’s red hair… and Harry’s eyes.”
Snape closed his eyes, pain evident in his face. “I see,” he whispered.
“Sir, could I ask you a… a more personal question?”
He scoffed, rubbing he bridge of his nose. “As if my saying no would stop you.”
She swallowed, suddenly worried about his reaction. She wasn’t really sure why she wanted to ask him, but something in her mind just couldn’t let it go.
“Severus, how… how did you know Penelope was the one?”
His eyes shot open and he gave her a confused look. “Pardon?”
She looked down, finding something rather interesting on the floor to stare at. “I… I know you loved Lily… for most of your life in fact. But then you found Penelope. And I know you love her.”
“Of course I do,” he hissed.
She nodded. “How did you decide to have a go at it?”
His eyes narrowed and he studied her. “What is really bothering you Ms. Granger.”
She sniffed. “If you want me to call you Severus, you must address me as Hermione.”
He smirked. “Very well Hermione. No more stalling. What is truly bothering you?”
She ambled over to the potions that he had brewing, studying the way they simmered and the colors they were. “My first marriage was… a mistake.”
“Of course it was,” he growled. “Not only did you marry the most dunderheaded Weasley, but you did so while your heart was in the hands of another.”
“Yours belonged to Lily,” she countered.
“Key word belonged,” he said darkly. “When I almost lost my life, I realized that I’d spent the better part of twenty years pining for a ghost who didn’t return my affections. I did my part Ms. – Hermione. I avenged her death. I protected her son. It was time to move on.”
“But I didn’t want to,” she whispered.
“Neither did he,” Snape said softly.
She looked at him sharply. “You knew?”
He smirked. “Who do you think brewed the potion that cured you?”
“Figures,” she sighed. “I take it you were okay with it.”
“I was rejoicing. Draco finally realized that blood didn’t matter. And he managed to find an intelligent woman to take an interest in rather than a vapid bitch only bred to decorate a home and an arm.”
“You were against his marriage then?”
“Obviously,” he drawled. “But I understood, as you did, that he was stuck. Having been in a similar position myself, I sympathized. But why bring this up now? You are both shot of your spouses. He has his heir and his fortune. The only thing standing in your way is a shell of a man bent on clinging to the very last shred of hope he has.”
She looked at him then, studying his face. He looked… happy. Marriage and a family agreed with him. He had filled out, no longer the thin and hollow thing he’d become at the end of the war. He’d made peace with his checkered past. But he was perhaps the one person that would understand her reservations.
“I’m terrified.”
Snape blinked and studied her a few moments before nodding. “Commitment often is terrifying.”
She nodded. “But I don’t know him… not really. All we have is a few passionate moments when we were teenagers. What if… what if I’ve built him up to be this amazing person, put him on a pedestal, and now that we’re nearly free, the veil is yanked away. What if… what if I was wrong to end my marriage to Ron?”
“You and your incessant questions,” he growled. “You know who he is, if you look close enough. He’s poured his heart and soul into his gifts to you. His views have changed. He told me you watched with tears in your eyes as he played piano with his son. You look at Scorpius almost as if he were yours anyway. And you know he’s still an arse. That hasn’t changed.”
She had to laugh at that. “Yes but… besides him and a short stint with Ron… I’ve never really tried to be with another.”
He frowned. “Penelope was only the third woman I’ve ever been with. The first was Lily of course… and if you tell Potter that, you won’t have to worry about Lucius killing you. The second was a woman named Contessa. She was merely a warm body, someone to pass the time with. After the war, I was done with women. Then Penelope literally ran into me in an apothecary, berated me for my clumsiness actually. I was intrigued. She was as much a spitfire as Lily, but she carried herself entirely differently. She was closed off, preferring to melt into the shadows, but she would give a tongue lashing when it was due.”
Hermione smiled at his reminiscing. “She sounds dreamy.”
Snape chuckled. “Oh, she was horrifying. And I loved it.”
“Matched your bat persona I’d imagine,” she said cheekily.
“Indeed. But my point is that the number of people you have been with doesn’t matter. When you find the one, you’re done.”
“I… I suppose. But what if we’re just deluding ourselves?”
Snape rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you actually try to get to know him before you jump in bed with him? If it was meant to be… you’ll know.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you sir… Severus. Back to the potion, the Ministry is pushing me for a name. You know how they operate.”
“Yes,” he drawled. “They want anyone with talent under their thumb.”
She scowled. “Of course. I’ve told them you wish to remain anonymous, but they’re throwing a bloody fit. I thought… I thought perhaps you could come up with an incorporated moniker of some sort. That way they have a name but not an identity.”
“I have a moniker. How do you think I make my living?”
“Oh. Oh! What is it?”
“Toby Phoenix,” he said with a smirk.
She giggled. “Perfect. Very American.”
“Penelope thought so.”
“I-“ her thought was cut short when her cell phone rang. She gave him an apologetic look and checked the readout before answering it.
“Jennifer? What’s wrong?”
Snape watched her with interest as Jennifer rattled on in her other. She wanted to smack her forehead at her thoughtlessness when she realized the reason.
“Oh, I’m soo sorry. I completely forgot that was tonight. Rose pulled a muscle in ballet yesterday so I took her with me on a business trip to make her rest and take her mind off of things. We’ll try to hop a port key as soon as we can, okay?”
She snapped the phone off with a flourish and stuffed it back in her pocket. Snape gave her a questioning look when she rubbed her forehead in frustration. “Jennifer is Ron’s wife. Her eldest, Lisa, has a concert tonight. I completely forgot we promised to go.”
“Weasley’s child plays an instrument?”
She chuckled. “Actually, Lisa is a muggleborn from Jennifer’s first marriage, and yes, she plays. Jennifer is a cellist. Lisa plays the violin. She’s amazing, quite the prodigy. When Rose isn’t dancing, she’s listening to Lisa’s recitals. It’s amazing how well they get on, really. Tonight’s concert is split. The first half will be Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. The second half will be the score to Pirates of the Caribbean. All the children are so excited. I’m sorry to rush off, but-“
“Say no more,” Snape said, raising his hand to stave off her apology. “I happen to love Vivaldi. I would consider it a treat… though Draco might pout.”
She groaned. “Well, maybe Jennifer can get us some extra tickets. You… you wouldn’t consider going would you sir?”
He scoffed. “I’m sure that would go over quite well. Besides, we’d need a babysitter.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Polyjuice. And I happen to know the perfect babysitter.”
Snape quirked an eyebrow. “I hope, for your sake, that the curse is broken sooner rather than later. You’ve got baby fever worse than Penelope.”
She laughed. “Just let me hold her and I’ll be okay.”
He shook his head wryly. “How did we come to this?”
She smiled. “Music can change everything.”

AN: Mk. That was weird. Anyway, one more chappy. I think they'll be two more. As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I luff them. Keep them coming and let me know how I'm doing. Until next time... love you guys!
Playlist:
Stephen Moccio- Zephyr
Michele McLaughlin – The Music Box Angel
Philip Wesley – Tears of the East
Randall Compton's C.S. Chopsticks Variations for piano duet
Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov - Flight of the Bumblebee
- 3
- 4
- 5
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The Pianist