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Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm	By : cpetnm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 58350 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Title: The Family He Never Knew He Wanted
Words: ~7,400
Summary: Three years after Hermione disappeared from his life, Draco sees her in Diagon Alley with a little boy who appears to be her son.

A.N. You all are awesome! Thank you for reading and the lovely reviews.

@ A: Thank you for your sweet comments! I’m glad you’re enjoying the one-shots. As far as being on ff.net, I’m not, since the maximum rating there is Mature (M) and all of my stuff is Mature Adult (MA).

@ Victoria: What nice comments! I’m glad you feel like the short stories are mixing it up a bit for H&D. The feedback on this site is always really positive and genuine, so when a reader suggested I add a bit more to The View From A Muggle Flat, I went back to the drawing board and I think the story ended up the better for it.

@ Elettra21: You are too kind. I really just like writing and it’s fun to get feedback about my work. Thank you for reading and for your review. :)

@ Missus_G: Thank you for brightening my day with your sweet review! I’m glad you’re enjoying the short stories.

@ General Crow: Okay, I finally figured out what I want to do for my last story in this collection, which will be coming to an end soon. Sexy, erotic-y type scenes from some of my previous stories, which will include a love in an elevator scene! I actually started to write it already. I’m glad you found the last story believeable. My friend actually had the licking butthole conversation on a first date, which gave me the idea for that scene. I have not forgotten the GoT-inspired story, but am still percolating on it. It can take me a while to figure out what I want to write. If you would still like to brainstorm with me, I can create a thread in the AFF forums and we can communicate there. Let me know. :)

To be fair, he never said they were exclusive.

When Draco had quietly tried to slip out of bed the previous evening, Hermione had told him they needed to talk. Draco put her off, asking her to come see him after lunch when he had a break in his schedule.

So when Hermione walked into Draco’s office to find him shagging some witch from the Budgets Department, she’d felt like her heart was being ripped to shreds, but he’d told her over and over that he wasn’t ready for anything serious. Apparently he’d told her the truth, but she had thought after all the time they’d spent together that she might mean more to him than a warm body with which to satiate himself. In the back of her mind, she knew he slept with other women, but since she didn’t actually see him with anyone else, it was easy to push that knowledge out of her mind.

For Hermione, their association had all the hallmarks of a relationship, except that one of the participants was happily fucking other witches.

Draco was so absorbed in the other witch that Hermione was able to slip out of the office, run to the loo, and hurl for the second time that day. Her chest constricted with the unwelcome knowledge that she had allowed herself to be used by someone she loved. After ten minutes of deep breathing to calm herself, she went to Minister Shacklebolt’s office and asked him to send her abroad for any dignitary work he needed done. He’d been surprised by her request, since her star had been rising at a rapid pace in her work with the Wizengamot, but the manic sheen to her eyes told him if he didn’t find something for her abroad, she’d quit. And the wizarding political landscape needed people like Hermione to bring a sense of balance.

She cleaned off her desk, thanked her boss, and took the rest of the day off to prepare for her departure.

“Did you hear that Granger up and left yesterday? I heard she took a job as an ambassador.”

Draco stopped and listened outside his colleague’s door.

“No, you can’t be serious! My work load is going to double,” a woman moaned.

“Don’t I know it,” the man agreed.

Hermione had never mentioned any interest in dignitary work. Since it was almost lunch, Draco decided to make a visit to Hermione’s flat. But when he got there, she didn’t answer. He knew the complex ward she used on her door and unspelled it to find the flat absolutely empty.

Hermione had taken the hardest position Kingsley had available, as an ambassador to several of the most war-torn areas of Africa. The Muggle wars had devastated the areas wizards harvested many ingredients that most of Europe depended on for many sensitive potions. Currently, prices on those ingredients were so exorbitant that St. Mungo’s and the Ministry were having to find alternate potions to brew.

Where she was going, there were few amenities, but she was okay with that. Hermione needed something to take the focus off her broken heart.

Weeks passed and Draco learned Hermione was working in Africa and in areas so remote, it would take an owl weeks to take a letter and return to England. He sent her three letters, but they came back unopened. Maybe the owls couldn’t find her or, more likely, she sent them back. Either way, she had made it obvious she wanted nothing to do with him.

“How many months along?” the old witch asked, gesturing to Hermione’s swollen abdomen.

They walked in a field of Dittany, the foundational piece to many healing potions.

“Five months,” she said, absentmindedly rubbing her bump.

“Your husband is excited?”

With a lump in her throat, Hermione shook her head. The witch accepted her silence and they continued to walk, observing how the funds from the British Ministry of Magic were helping rejuvenate magical farming in the region.

The old witch stopped Hermione before they were to go their separate ways. “May I?” she said gesturing to Hermione’s stomach.

“Alright,” Hermione said slowly, allowing the other woman to place both hands on her body. She watched the brightly-clad witch close her eyes and begin to hum a lullaby.

“You want to know the gender?”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Yes.”

“It’s a boy.”

The witch gave Hermione a moment to process the information, noticing the sadness in her expression. She felt for the young mother and wished her well. It was clear to the intuitive older witch that the path ahead would be convoluted for this lovely, bright girl.

Draco walked through Diagon Alley, making his way to Madam Malkin’s to pick up a new set of dress robes. A familiar flash of brown curls made him stop and look into Fortescue’s. The witch who had disappeared from his life for no reason apparent to him was wiping the mouth of a cherubesque toddler. He stepped closer to the window and saw that it was indeed Hermione and if he wasn’t mistaken, the little boy was her son.

An unexpected shock of grief filled him. Of course a witch like Granger had found another wizard and had moved on from him. Draco had always resisted his instinct to bond to her, knowing that any deep relationship he formed with someone would only end in disaster. His behavior with women had always been somewhat destructive and he never truly understood why Hermione hadn’t called him out on it.

Oddly, after Hermione had left for Africa, his promiscuous tendencies had quelled. Random one-offs with random witches lost their appeal and Draco began to spend more and more time at the office. It was painful to admit that he had loved her, still loved her, although he never would have said any such thing to her. So, thank Merlin he hadn’t laid himself out to her, as she hadn’t thought enough of him to even tell him she was leaving the bloody country.

It was still hard for Draco to believe his old friend Pansy had married Ron Weasley, but they seemed to be happy. Their son, Magnus, was quietly playing on the floor as a house elf brought them a tray of tea and biscuits.

“I saw Granger in Diagon Alley,” Draco mentioned, watching Pansy for signs of hidden information. Unfortunately, Pansy was a Slytherin through and through and didn’t give anything away unless she intended to do so.

She nodded and took a sip of tea. “They got back a couple of weeks ago.”

“The little boy I saw her with was her son?”

“Tristan. He’s two.”

“She’s married?”

Pansy gave him an appraising look. “No.”

Draco wanted to ask more, but Pansy had never approved of his ways with women.

“I wasn’t planning on approaching her.”

“Good.”

Draco turned to look at Magnus, his red hair gleaming in the late afternoon light. He was more Weasley than Parkinson in looks, but his personality screamed Slytherin. He wondered what Hermione’s child was like. Probably intelligent, stubborn, and mischievous, like his mum.

“Who’s the boy’s father?”

Pansy shook her head. “She won’t say. Harry probably knows, but he won’t say anything to Ron. He and Gin went to Africa to help her after Tristan was born.”

“I wrote to her a few times after she left, but my owls came back unopened.”

She shrugged. “She saw you with another witch before she left. There was nothing left for her to say to you.”

He hadn’t exactly been discreet, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt Hermione.

“I always told her I didn’t want anything serious. I was upfront about my intentions.”

“Indeed,” she said in a way that screamed her disapproval. He knew Pansy cared about him, but she respected Hermione and would always be grateful to the Muggle-born for taking care of Ron throughout his childhood.

Draco looked at Magnus and was glad to see him absorbed with his toys.

“Do you think she’s happy?”

Pansy considered his question. “I think she’s doing the best she can.”

Hermione was rushing through the Ministry lobby for an appointment with Minister Shacklebolt, her large bag of documents impeding her progress to the elevator. She had almost made it to the doors when they shut, leaving her waiting until another car made its way to the lobby.

A few people made eye contact with her and smiled or wished her a good morning. It was nice to be home, if only for a few weeks until her new assignment was worked out. Tristan had been enjoying the Potter and Weasley children and the perks of being in a modern wizarding society. They’d made a few too many trips to Fortescue’s for treats since Tristan had tasted his first bite of the incredible ice cream.

She called Tristan her “little angel” because of his blond curls and rosy cheeks. His hazel eyes were so sincere it was hard for anyone to resist his little boy charms. She wondered if his father would be charmed by him, but immediately put that thought out of her mind. Draco had always told her he didn’t want any person tying him down and she had seen first hand that he truly did feel that way. The Malfoys were so damaged by the war, their family had splintered with Lucius leaving his wife and son and making a new life in Spain and Narcissa spending her time hiding in the manor. Draco had dealt with his stress by working and shagging. No, she had made the right decision, leaving so she could make her own way with her son. It would have been so much more painful to try to convince a reluctant Draco to be involved in their lives.

The elevator opened and she got in, readying herself to present her findings to the Minister and his advisors.

At lunch, Draco decided to make his way to Diagon Alley for something better than the fare he could get in the Ministry cafeteria. He stepped out of the elevator and almost collided with Hermione Granger.

“Granger,” he said, righting himself and straightening his robes.

“Hello, Draco,” she said with a smile.

After she had left and never replied to his letters, he’d expected her to sneer at him. He’d been hurt and then fairly angry at her for several months, but eventually those feelings had turned into resignation. She was a good woman. A better witch than someone like him deserved.

“You’re back.”

They walked alongside each other through the huge lobby.

“Only for a few weeks. My next assignment will take us to Mexico.”

He was disappointed, but tried not to let it show. “Do you have plans for lunch? Maybe we can catch up.”

She looked at her watch. “I have a couple of hours. Sure, lunch would be great.”

Draco placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to one of the large Ministry fireplaces.

“Are you alright going into the Alley?”

“Yes, of course.”

They were spit out near a bank of fireplaces at Gringotts. It surprised Hermione to notice these new fireplaces for witches and wizards to take the Floo network. The slow moving wizarding world had changed a bit since she’d been gone. She wondered what else had changed.

Draco had so many questions to ask her, but he decided to wait until they were in the privacy of the restaurant booth. So instead he watched her and she was as beautiful as she had been before she left, but her body was thinner and her skin held a golden glow from her time in Africa. Her freckles were more pronounced and her hair was lighter than he’d ever seen it.

As soon as they were seated, Draco cast a privacy charm.

“You left.”

Hermione nodded. “I had to.”

“I’ve missed you,” Draco said quietly. He hadn’t seen Hermione in three years. It was a possibility he wouldn’t get the opportunity to see her for the foreseeable future.

“I missed you, too, Draco. Have you been well?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I have. My mother asked after you just a few weeks ago.”

“Did she? That’s thoughtful. Is she improving?”

“A bit.”

There was so much Draco wanted to ask Hermione, so much he had to say to her, but the words were stuck in his polite upbringing and his heart, which had atrophied with a lack of care over the years. So instead they ordered their lunch and talked about nothing consequential, until curiosity got the better of Draco.

“I saw you with a little boy the other day, at Fortescue’s. Is he your son?”

“Yes. Tristan. He’ll be three in a couple of months.”

Quickly doing the calculation in his head, Draco realized Hermione had either gone to Africa pregnant or had become pregnant quickly after getting there. She must have seen the dawning question on his face, because her expression became guarded.

“He’s mine, isn’t he?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and continued to take delicate bites of her salad.

“You never wanted anybody tying you down,” she said with a sad shrug. “The last time I saw you, you were shagging someone on your desk. I was planning on telling you I was pregnant, but I couldn’t after that.”

“I can help, now that I know. I’d like to get to know my son.”

Hermione put her napkin on the table and placed a few Galleons near her plate.

“We’re leaving again in a few weeks, but I’ll let you meet him if you like.”

He nodded, a tightness in his throat preventing him from speaking.

“You can come over tomorrow afternoon. We’re staying with the Potters.”

“Okay,” Draco said quietly, trying not to let his voice betray him. He watched Hermione leave the restaurant, his mind stunned at what he had learned.

“Hi,” Tristan said to the tall man.

“Hello,” Draco said, crouching to better speak to the boy. “I’m Draco.”

“I’m Twistan Gwanger,” the child said, putting out his hand for Draco to shake.

Draco had seen pictures of himself as a toddler and thought this little boy was a slightly darker version of himself. Tristan was his son. Of this he had no doubt.

“Tristan,” Hermione said, “would you ask Kreacher to bring us some snacks?”

“Yes!” Tristan said happily. He loved the grumpy old elf and took any opportunity to study or speak to him, although Kreacher was adept at avoiding children.

Draco watched the little boy head to the kitchen. “He’s perfect.”

“Isn’t he?” Hermione said with a smile. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He didn’t think Hermione was exaggerating. She was so loving and happy around her son. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so peaceful as she was around the little boy.

Tristan rejoined them followed by a thrilled Kreacher, who was beside himself to be serving the son of the Noble House of Black. The elf bowed low at Draco’s feet, pleased to serve the son of Narcissa Black Malfoy. After Draco thanked the elf, Tristan bowed to his mother and Draco, imitating Kreacher in his toddler voice.

“Noble House of Black,” Tristan rumbled, a sly smile on his face as he looked at the blond stranger. “Tea?”

“Mummy will serve you, oh Tristan of the Noble House of Granger,” Hermione said, pouring a bit of tea with a lot of milk for the boy.

“I be of the Noble House of Black, Mummy!” Tristan said with a bow.

“Is that so?” Hermione said lightly, but she felt uncomfortable at her son’s words.

The three of them drank their tea and Tristan snuck biscuits until he ran off to see James and Albus. The two adults drank their tea in silence until Draco could no longer stay quiet.

“I am truly sorry I hurt you.”

She hadn’t been expecting those words. “I…you told me not to expect anything from you.”

“It’s just—“

“It’s in the past. We’ve moved on, right?”

But the fact was, Draco hadn’t moved on. Hermione leaving had been a punch to the gut…and now, to find out he had a son he might never get to know. It was a sorrow unmatched in his life.

“I haven’t. Moved on, that is.”

Hermione put down her tea. “There was nothing to move on from, Draco. I didn’t mean anything to you. You showed me that in the most obvious way.”

“I was always trying to distract myself from my unhappiness. But you must believe you meant more to me than those one-offs.”

Hermione stood, her old hurt making its way to the forefront of her mind. “You should go. I let you meet Tristan and there is nothing left to say.”

“Hermione—“

“No, Draco. I made a monumental mistake in putting up with you for so long. The only good thing that came of that time was my baby. So, please, please leave.”

Her eyes were shiny and her hand trembled slightly as she began to put the tea service on the tray. When he touched her arm, she recoiled.

“Kreacher!”

The elf Apparated into the room with a pop.

“Yes, Friend of Harry Potter?”

“Please escort Mr. Malfoy out. Thank you.”

She left the room, most likely in search of her son. Draco followed the wizened elf to the Floo, but little Tristan poked his head around the corner.

“Bye,” he said, smiling at Draco.

Draco beckoned him over and kneeled to speak to the boy.

“Can I give you something?”

“Okay,” Tristan said, curiosity lighting up his eyes.

Draco took off his Malfoy crest ring. “Would you wear this? It’s a very special ring. Very old.”

Kreacher looked at the exchange apprehensively, but didn’t try to stop the son of the House of Black.

“Is pwetty,” Tristan said, gently touching the onyx and emeralds in the gold ring. “I give it to Mummy.”

“It’s for you,” Draco said, putting the heavy ring on Tristan’s chubby hand. Magically, the ring sized down to fit the child. “Now you can come visit me whenever you like. I live at Malfoy Manor.”

Tristan admired the ring. “Bye, Dwaco.”

“Goodbye, Tristan,” Draco said, leaving before Hermione found out what he had done. It had been impulsive, but he didn’t want this to be the only time he saw his son. He planned to stay in Tristan and Hermione’s lives. He had to. They were his family.

He didn’t see Hermione or Tristan after that. Draco had never felt as alone as he did after finding out the woman he loved had his son, and yet he was not to be a part of their little family.

They’d gone to Mexico so Hermione could negotiate trade for the British Ministry with the magical indigenous people. The Muggle drug cartels had used unscrupulous wizards and witches to take over the Mexican government. Hermione’s job would be delicate, but she had proven her ability to work with both the magical and Muggle governments and to boot, she could take care of herself. A security detail had been assigned to Hermione and Tristan, with an Auror acting as a nanny for the young boy. Draco wasn’t sure why Hermione was going into such turbulent situations with Tristan by her side, but he acknowledged he had some hand in chasing her away from her friends and family. He would do almost anything to get them to come back, but once again, she ignored any communication Draco sent her way.

So it was with a sinking in his stomach that he greeted a frantic Harry Potter five months after Hermione and Tristan had left England.

Harry closed Draco’s office door and cast a Muffliato on the office.

“Tristan has been taken by the Sinaloa Cartel. The Auror who was supposed to be protecting him was Imperiused and handed him over to kidnappers. Here’s the thing, Malfoy,” Harry said, running a hand through his thick, black mop of hair. “The Malfoy crest ring you gave him was sent to Hermione with a ransom letter demanding the equivalent of two million Galleons. Hermione can cover one hundred thousand and I’ll put in a million, but would you cover the other nine hundred thousand?”

Draco stood and began pulling on his coat. “I’ll cover it all, Potter. I’m going with you to Mexico to see to my son and Hermione.”

“Now’s not the time for you to try to work out your issues with them, Malfoy.”

Draco turned on Harry, his fear for Tristan’s safety making him dangerous. “It’s not a request. They’re my family. It’s my fault they’re in this situation to begin with. I have to make this right.”

Harry looked at the wizard and remembered this man had been a child soldier as much as he had been. He’d seen horrible things and had come out damaged, but in one piece. And as much as he hated to admit it, Draco might be able to help in ways he could not.

“Alright, Malfoy. I’ll collect you from Malfoy Manor with a Portkey in an hour.”

Draco gave him a sharp nod and left the office behind Harry, hastily making his way home.

Upon seeing Harry and Draco, Hermione burst into tears. Draco ran to her, gathering her in his arms.

“We’ll get him back. We’ll do whatever we have to do to get him back.”

She nodded, inhaling Draco’s hauntingly familiar scent.

“Hermione, you and Malfoy need to come with me to the Auror’s central command room. We’re going to scry for Tristan. Any object you have that’s valuable to him or a sample of his hair would be helpful.”

Hermione grabbed a bag and ran around her small flat collecting anything that might help them locate her little boy. Draco felt helpless as he watched Harry making notes on a small pad of parchment.

“What can I do?” Draco asked Harry.

“Support Hermione,” he said, but then lowered his voice. “The Mexican drug cartels usually don’t leave survivors, Malfoy. It might be bad. Be prepared for the worst.”

Draco nodded, shocked at Potter’s bluntness. He’d met Tristan once, but the thought of his son, their son, being killed was unfathomable to Draco. If he could, he would do everything he could to make up for his sins, starting with treating Hermione and Tristan with as much care and consideration as he could offer.

Hours went by with the no word from the kidnappers. The Aurors couldn’t get a bead on the boy, their scrying turning up nothing. Draco and Hermione stayed to the side as Harry and the Aurors worked every angle they could to try and find Tristan.

Draco held Hermione’s hand, unhappy that it took the disappearance of their son for them to acknowledge their connection to one another. When night fell, Draco thought Hermione looked like she was about to faint from a combination of nerves, hunger, and exhaustion.

“You need to eat something. Let’s find out where we can get some food.”

Hermione nodded mutely, allowing Draco to walk her to the hotel restaurant with two Aurors trailing behind them. She leaned into him, her tear-streaked face the saddest thing Draco had ever beheld. He imagined he didn’t look much better, although he did manage not to cry, even though he wanted to.

They sat in a booth at the back of the restaurant, Hermione letting Draco order for the both of them. She stared at the table.

“Drink some water, love,” Draco urged her.

She followed his directions, like a small child who needed her father’s help. Never before in her life had she felt so helpless. Her baby was with people who would hurt him, kill him, for bloody Galleons. It was unfathomable that human beings would do this to a child. She would have put herself into Tristan’s place in a heartbeat if the option had been available.

Two sandwiches were delivered and both parents managed to eat a few bites.

“You two are coming home when we get Tristan back.”

“Okay,” Hermione whispered.

“I want you to live at the Manor. You’ll both be safe there.”

She nodded and Draco wondered if she knew what she was agreeing to.

“This is my fault,” she murmured, turning her horrified gaze on him. “I couldn’t be near you, so I left and took us to places I never thought you’d step foot in. I put Tristan in harm’s way.”

“It’s not your fault, Hermione. I was horrible to you, but I promise you I’m not who I used to be. I don’t sleep around; I haven’t been with anyone in years, actually. Without you, I lost any deep friendship or love and after finding out about Tristan, I realized I’d lost my family. In time, do you think you would ever be able to forgive me?”

She stared at him for a moment, considering what she should say, but finally, she opted for the truth.

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

He let out a breath he didn’t even realize been holding in and took Hermione’s hand in his. He knew the timing for his confession was abysmal, but there was no way on Merlin’s green earth that he was letting Hermione go.

Several hours later, a hawk delivered a note, with the time and location for the exchange of funds for the little boy. The briefcase of bills had been imbued with a new and undetectable tracking spell, which would hopefully lead the authorities to the people who took Tristan Granger.

Draco and Hermione waited near the drop-off site, ready to Portkey Tristan to a Ministry appointed location with a Healer waiting for them. A grizzled old Auror made the exchange, motioning to the British faction that Tristan was alive, but sedated. The kidnapper Disapparated as soon as the briefcase of bills was checked. Several other pops of Disapparition sounded a second later, as the other kidnappers left the area.

The Healer determined that Tristan was healthy, but had been given a Sleeping draught and advised Hermione to contact her if the little boy didn’t wake within ten hours. Two Aurors collected the trio and took them to a private home in a dark, quiet neighborhood.

Draco held Tristan and followed one of the Aurors to a bedroom. He thanked the Auror and put Tristan under the covers in the big bed. Looking over at Hermione, he found her staring at Tristan, her mouth quavering with her effort to repress a sob.

He took her purse off her shoulder and gently pried off the thin jacket she wore. He knelt and removed her shoes.

“Get into bed, love,” he suggested, taking her arm and helping her get under the covers.

Hermione curled herself around Tristan’s little body and looked at Draco.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Try to sleep, okay?”

In answer she nodded and closed her eyes. Draco turned off the overhead light and cast a dim Lumos with his wand and settled into an armchair in the corner of the room. The last 24 hours had been exhausting, but for the first time in years, he could imagine a future and it was filled with people he loved, rather than long days of work followed by nights spent alone.

Two days later, Harry had collected Hermione and Tristan’s things and arranged for transport back to England. Draco Floo called his mother, to let her know he would be returning with Hermione and Tristan. Narcissa had been shocked for a moment, as they never had guests, but told her son she would prepare for the new residents. Draco had assured her he would tell her everything when they returned.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us?” Harry asked Hermione when Malfoy was quietly playing with Tristan in another room. “You don’t owe Malfoy anything.”

“I know. I think maybe I need this, Harry.”

Harry had been there when Tristan was a newborn and had seen how hard it had been for Hermione. Not only had she been trying to care for a new baby, but she had been sad that she couldn’t share her joy with Draco. Something so life-altering, so moving, should have been shared with the man she loved, but he had continuously pushed her away until she had broken.

“Can you trust him?”

“One day at a time,” she said with a small smile.

“Alright. Just don’t put up with his shite. Promise me.”

“I promise, Harry.”

The group returned to England to find the weather damp and cold. Tristan was still subdued after his ordeal, although he had been asleep for most of the abduction, thank the Gods. Hermione kept a close eye on him, but Draco had been incredibly good-natured about holding the little boy and staying in close proximity to Hermione.

From the Ministry, they Apparated to the manor’s front steps. It was prettier than Hermione remembered it, with colorful flowers and verdant shrubs dotting the landscape. Draco led them into the house, alerting one of the elves to their arrival. Within moments, Narcissa was walking towards the group. As soon as she saw Draco holding Tristan, her eyes widened in understanding.

“Mother, this is Tristan.”

She gave a tremulous smile to Hermione, but bypassed her to meet the boy Draco held in his arms.

“Hello, Tristan,” the regal blonde said to the boy.

“Hi,” he said quietly, laying his head on Draco’s shoulder. “Are you a princess?”

Narcissa chuckled, her eyes sparkling with tears. “Are you hungry? I have a small spread in the yellow sitting room.”

“You have diamonds in your eyes,” Tristan said, reaching a little hand out to touch Narcissa’s cheek.

By instinct, she reached her arms out to take the toddler and he went to her, allowing his grandmother to hug him to her thin frame. Hermione watched the interaction with trepidation, although it appeared she had little to worry about. Tristan had charmed the Malfoy matriarch within seconds of meeting him. It would be good for Tristan to have another person he could call family, Hermione conceded.

Draco put his arm around Hermione’s shoulder and they followed Narcissa and Tristan to the yellow sitting room. For the most part, the three adults avoided conversation until Hermione noticed Tristan beginning to yawn and fuss.

“Where can I put him down for a nap?” Hermione asked Draco.

Narcissa overheard and called one of the elves to escort Hermione and Tristan to the nursery she’d had prepared for the little boy. Once the two Grangers were gone, Narcissa gazed at her son with a look that left little doubt about her line of thinking.

“Explain what is going on, Draco.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I wasn’t good to Hermione. I didn’t treat her with the respect she deserved and when she tried to tell me about the pregnancy, I put her off. When she came to my office to try to speak with me, she found me with another witch.”

“Oh, son,” Narcissa said, shaking her head.

“She left the country and I didn’t hear from her. About six months ago, I was in Diagon Alley and saw her with a little boy. Once I found out his age, she admitted he was my son, but she still didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me? Perhaps I could have spoken to her.”

“She was only in England for a few weeks and then she and Tristan went to Mexico for her new assignment. I was resigned to the fact that she wanted me as far away from them as possible. Honestly, I didn’t want to involve you.”

“Did you offer her any kind of help, Draco? How is she able to work and raise Tristan on her own?”

“I suppose she makes enough money to hire nannies, Mother.”

Narcissa stared at her son, trying to understand how his life had gotten so complex. She supposed their lives had fallen apart when the war began, although she didn’t understand how the two men in her life could take their loved ones for granted like they had.

“Can you tell me what this trip was about? The three of you look exhausted, and Miss Granger seems nervous.”

“Tristan was taken by one of the drug cartels.”

Narcissa gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Harry Potter came to me and told me there was a ransom for Tristan. He and Hermione could cover about half, but he asked if I’d be willing to cover the other half. I agreed and accompanied him to Mexico. This whole bloody thing is my fault. She never would have left England if I hadn’t pushed her away.”

“Pardon my bluntness, but it doesn’t sound like you were in a true relationship if you were with other witches. Do you want to be with Miss Granger or is this about the boy?”

Draco knew he had hit a sore spot with his mother, since Lucius had left her for a much younger witch. He hated to think his mum would place him in the same group as his father, but the evidence mounted against him as he described what had gone wrong with Hermione.

“Even without Tristan, I think I would have wanted her to give me another chance. I…I love her and I want them to be my family. She agreed to stay here with Tristan while she looks for a new position within the Ministry. I drove her away before, but I plan to do everything I can to keep her and Tristan.”

Narcissa slowly nodded. “If you betray her trust, she won’t forgive you again. She will put the stability of the situation and care for her son above everything, Draco. Make sure this is what you want.”

“It is,” he assured her.

Hermione followed closely behind Tristan in the garden, her unreasonable fear that something would happen to him causing her to hover. Narcissa watched them from her sitting room window and felt her heart constrict for Hermione. She’d spent two years in constant fear for Draco’s safety during the war, always waiting for someone to tell her that he hadn’t survived a raid or for one of his fellow Death Eaters to turn on him in a moment of madness. It truly was a miracle her son had made it out alive. He was made of tougher stuff than she had anticipated, with his coddled upbringing.

Narcissa made her way outdoors and caught up with Hermione.

“Let me watch him, dear. You look like you could use a few minutes to yourself.”

“I don’t want to trouble you, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione said softly. Her famed courage and confidence had dimmed after the events in Mexico.

“It’s my pleasure to watch him. He is my grandson, after all.”

Hermione looked at the older woman with surprise. “Draco told you?”

Narcissa nodded. “He did, but he’s the spitting image of Draco at that age. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

Hermione was quiet, unsure of how to talk to this witch about the situation. Draco had been supportive over the past few days since they’d arrived at the manor, but she was scared…for Tristan’s safety and for the place Draco wanted in their lives. The thing was, even after all the time they had spent apart and how he had hurt her, there wasn’t anyone else she had ever wanted. And that made her feel pathetic. What kind of woman went back to a man who basically told her she one of many witches? She hadn’t run from veteran Death Eaters, corrupt Ministry officials, or even Bellatrix or Voldemort, but she had run from Draco Malfoy. She had run to the ends of the earth to get away from him and she had put her Tristan in danger. How could she ever forgive herself for that kind of cowardice?

So, instead of talking to Narcissa about the fact that she knew Tristan was her grandson, Hermione acquiesced to the woman’s offer.

“Thank you. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Narcissa laid a hand on Hermione’s arm and looked as if she wanted to say something else, but instead gave her a squeeze.

“We’ll be fine. Go. Relax for a spell.”

Draco found Hermione lowering herself into the deep tub in her guest room ensuite. Her long hair was knotted on top of her head and showed off her graceful neck and delicate shoulders. Draco had been admiring her naked form and didn’t think she knew he was there.

“Would you like to join me?” she murmured.

She didn’t look at him as she settled into the water, her eyes closed as she sighed in pleasure. Hermione heard the rustle of fabric as Draco removed his clothing. She shifted forward so he could get into the tub behind her. The moment his skin made contact with her skin, Hermione felt like she could finally breathe. The comfort she gathered from Draco was instant. His arms gathered her against him as she leaned back into his embrace.

Draco wondered why he had ever wanted to be with anyone else when he’d had this beautiful creature welcoming him into her bed. Everything about her felt right to him: her scent, the warmth of her skin, the perfect way she fit against his body. He had been so foolish, but blessed Merlin, he would make it up to her if she would let him.

“I’ve missed this,” she admitted. She hadn’t been with anyone since Draco. Hadn’t wanted to begin something with someone else when her heart still stuttered whenever she thought of him.

“You’re perfection,” he whispered, kissing the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“You don’t have to say that.”

Twisting her body so she was straddling him, he looked into her eyes. He could see the stress on her face, evident from the lavender circles under her eyes and the set of her mouth.

“I do need to say it. And I will say it, every day if you’ll let me.”

If Hermione knew anything about Draco, it was that he didn’t lie to her. Even though he hadn’t treated her with exclusivity in the past, he’d been honest about his intentions. He was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them.

She looked into his sincere, heated gaze and lifted a hand to his face. She traced her fingers across his jaw, meeting his eyes. He was not the most handsome man she had ever seen, but there was something about the aristocratic lines of his face and his big, grey eyes that was beautiful. That her beloved Tristan looked like his father made Draco even more striking to her.

It was so natural to accept Draco’s lips against hers, to wrap her arms around his neck as his tongue touched her tongue in the most tantalizing way. His kisses were always erotic, causing her body to tingle in anticipation of what was to come. His hands traveled along her back, lightly grazing the tops of her round buttocks. She shivered as her naked, wet center felt the light bump of his ready cock. He gently bit her bottom lip and raised a hand to cup her breast. She moaned when he began rolling her nipple between two fingers.

She used his cock to rub her clit, the small undulations of her hips centering on that bud of sensitive nerves. Draco watched in awe as her head was thrown back and her lips parted as she moaned in longing. Her hand wrapped around his length and she slid onto him. The warm water and the slickness of her passage helped him ease into her. She was so tight and hot, accepting him into her perfect little pussy.

As she established a rhythm, she regarded Draco before leaning in to kiss him. He fondled her sensitive tips, rolling her nipples gently and then with a bit of a sharp tug as she began to rock her hips more quickly. Their tongues dueled before Hermione threw her head back and moaned low and shuddered. The feel of her channel pulsating around him was enough to make him come, his body seizing painfully for a moment before he spilled his seed into her body. He continued to thrust into her until the last of his climax was wrenched from his body.

When Draco looked at Hermione’s face, he found tears in her eyes, even as she let her body relax into his.

“Why are you crying?”

A tear trickled down her cheek as she searched his face.

“Even with how hurt I was by you, I missed you so much. After Tristan was born, I wanted you to see him. I wanted you to see this perfect baby who you helped create, but I thought you’d reject both of us.”

Draco pressed a slow kiss to her neck before meeting her gaze.

“I loved you, you know? But my behavior was more about the fact that I didn’t feel I deserved a real relationship with someone as good as you. So I did things to try to marginalize my feelings. Even then I knew it was stupid, but I kept finding willing witches like I suppose a drunk can always find a drink. After you left, I felt betrayed, which I know was unfair, since I had been the one to push you away. But when you were gone, I finally had the impetus to work through my issues. In many ways I’m still the man you know, but maybe, if you’ll give me the opportunity, you’ll see that you can depend on me and that I could be a good father to Tristan.”

She bit her lip in thought. “Okay, Draco. We can try to make this work.”

Six Months Later

“Tristan, Draco and I would like to talk to you. Can you come sit with Mummy?”

Tristan put down his Quidditch figurines and made himself comfortable on his mum’s lap. The little boy smiled at Draco and attempted to wink at him, which made Draco laugh.

“Do you remember asking me about your daddy?” Hermione asked her son. It had been during their time in Mexico that Tristan had begun to ask her about his father.

“Uh huh,” he said with a nod. “I wemember.”

“You’re a very clever boy,” Hermione said with a smile. “Tris, Draco is your daddy.”

Tristan nodded. “I know, silly! How you think I don’t know that?”

Draco chuckled. Of course his brilliant son knew what the adults around him were scared to admit to the child. “Were you holding out on us, buddy? Hmm? How did you figure that out?”

“You love me and you love mummy. You play with me and wead to me. You’re my daddy,” he said simply.

Draco nodded and felt his eyes prickle with tears. He’d wanted to tell Tristan immediately that he was his father and begin family life with Hermione and his son, but she had insisted they build their relationship first. It was the right thing to do and after these months, Draco and Hermione had developed a solid foundation for their little family. Hermione had come to trust Draco and knew he wanted to be a part of their lives.

“I’d like to be something more to you, too,” Draco said to a surprised Hermione, pulling the female version of the Malfoy ring out of his pocket. “Would you agree to let me be your husband?”

Talk of marriage had never been a part of their conversation, though Hermione found herself thinking it would be nice to be married. Her relationship with Draco had improved so much, she didn’t want to ask any more of him.

“Yes!” Tristan said, bouncing in his mother’s lap.

Hermione gave a watery chuckle. “Y--yes. I would love to be your wife.”

Draco gathered his son and soon-to-be wife in his arms, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple. She couldn’t believe that from the disaster that was her previous relationship with Draco had grown this genuine, honest, and passionate basis for the rest of their lives. It occurred to her that leaving Draco had given him the time he needed to figure out what was important, and though it had been very difficult to chart her own path, it seemed that path had brought her back to the man she had loved for so many years.
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Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm