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Through the Son	By : Marionne25 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 15949 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 8
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Chapter Eight
Hot and Cold

“Why are we irritated today?” Harry slowly asked about Hermione’s off mood as she entered his office by lunch time.

She had come from her usual therapy session at the hospital.
She was way better now.

A week it has gone since her encounter with Draco and since she has received the book he has obviously sent her.

“Did you see Malfoy?” Harry asked as he removed his things from the long couch in his office and let Hermione lay there, helping her lift and stretch out her injured leg.

“No.” Hermione snapped at him, tossing her purse and a paper bag over the carpeted floor.
Since she has received the book, she had been bringing it along with her to her therapies.
Not to read it but to wait until she sees Draco to shove it right back at his face.

They weren’t sure, but she and Harry now had a hunch that he was the one who sent her the get well flowers.
Despite that they could no longer find the first card, Hermione swore to Harry that the handwriting was uncanny to the one she received with the book.

“So what’s wrong?” Harry asked opening a bag of chips and opening it and offering her one.
“I told you that this isn’t healthy and you shouldn’t eat this.” Hermione said taking the bag anyway and eating from it. “You should stop eating this.”

Harry smiled at her and offered her a bottle of cold tea he bought and saved for her from the cafeteria.
“You know how I hate this one.” Hermione said, taking the bottle from him.
“The Healers said that it’s going to boost your energy back (remove back). It’s only two more weeks for that.” Harry said with another smile sitting at the end of the couch.

He gently pulled her leg over his lap and began creating small and soothing circles and lines along it.
Hermione exhaled deeply, reeling in the comfortable and relaxing sensation he was giving her.
“I just don’t understand why he’s suddenly not having his therapies.” Hermione said as she hungrily ate the bag of chips. “I mean, as far as I know of he has a month or half a month to go for it.”
“How do you know?” Harry slowly asked, eyebrow raised.

“I asked.” Hermione replied and a slight glow appeared at the side of her cheeks.
She looked away from Harry pretending to look for the bottle over the couch where she just tossed it aside.
“Right.” Harry said, continuing to gently massage her leg as slow as possible as to not create further injuries.
“I haven’t been fishing about him.” Hermione defensively said seeing the look over Harry’s face. “I just thought I should check if we would collide with schedules and-“
“Hermione, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Harry said with a smile. “And I also heard news that he might not be in town.”

Hermione opened her mouth to ask him when a knock came upon the door.
Harry’s assistant arrive with two paper bags of food.

He nodded them to be placed over his desk and thanked the assistant who left without another word but with a mere smile seeing the two of them.
“You do know people are still talking about us, don’t you?” Hermione asked, inhaling now the smell of warm and fresh sandwiches and pasta from the bag that Harry ordered for their lunch.

“Yeah.” Harry replied with a splendid smile over his face as he finished up with her leg and stood up to wash his hands so he could prepare their lunch.

Hermione could hear him washing his hands at the back bathroom as he hummed something unfamiliar to her.

“You’re enjoying this.” Hermione pointed out sitting a little straighter over the couch.”
“Enjoying which?” Harry asked turning back to her and wiping his hands with a towel.
“This.” Hermione said pointing at herself and around the room. “That people are still talking behind our backs and talking about the two of us.”
“The two of us?” Harry slowly asked her with a brightness in his eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes.
“It’s not as if you don’t know that people are still talking, wanting and thinking either we’d get back together or are secretly back together.”
“Is there anything wrong with that?” Harry asked her.
“But it’s not true.” Hermione slowly said as if explaining to some eleven year old. “You know we’re only friends now and it’s not true.”
“Let them be.” Harry said. “Let them spread rumours.”
“Exactly, Harry.” Hermione pointed out as he came back to the room and he began preparing their meal. “They are rumours. Shouldn’t they be corrected?”
"Corrected?” Harry asked her taking out the two sandwiches from the bag and the two packed pastas. "Why don't you correct them?"
“Why don’t I?” Hermione asked back. “No, why don’t you?”

“Why don’t you?"

They stared at one another.
It was not going anywhere.

In truth, Hermione couldn’t bring herself to say something up to the crowd that might hurt Harry even in the slightest way possible.
And Harry, obviously in great gracious relish of the rumours about them still being an item, would not a chance in the world say anything about it or even try to correct it.

“How about we don’t talk about them and just eat?” Harry said placing a tray in front of her so she may start eating. “Besides, it’s not like we’re not doing anything that couples don’t do.”

“We don’t sleep together.” Hermione pointed out reaching over for her tuna sandwich.
“You don’t want to sleep with me.” Harry corrected her with a peevish smile. “I never said I didn’t want to sleep with you.”

Hermione looked up at him.
It was always a joke that ended this way.

“Harry.” Hermione said with a sigh. “We’ve already talk about this.”
“I know.” Harry said turning away from her and pretending to take out his meal from the table. “You started it.”

Hermione stared at him.
She knew that tone too well.

“Harry, please-“
“It’s fine.” Harry said smiling and sitting up in front of her. “Anyway-“
“Yes, anyway – Malfoy. What about him?” Hermione asked, completely forgetting their first discussion and quickly moving on to Draco Malfoy topic.

“I’m not sure. But I just heard it this morning that he filed for some sort of permission to go out of London for like two weeks.”

Even if Draco didn’t go to Azkaban and had done his services to the Ministry of Magic and to Hogwarts, he wasn’t still fully pardoned easily.
Every time he travelled out of London, he had to file up a couple of documents asking for permission to go out of town or abroad.

It was something akin to being put in a house arrest at London.
It was a difficult process to adjust to at first since he had always gotten away with going anywhere and now, he was closely monitored for where he wanted to go.

He also had a list of Apparition points given to the Ministry and anywhere he used magic to Apparate and Disapparate that wasn’t on the list, he would be sent a note by the Ministry to be summoned and questions about the said activity.

It wasn’t easy.

But Draco succumbed to all these conditions without question in order to survive and live harmoniously with a society that wanted him to be seen only at Azkaban for which he evaded gracefully thanks to her mother who lied to the Dark Lord about Harry’s death.

It was the small act of a mother that saved him and his mother from being taken to Azkaban.
Lucius was already sentenced long before that and so Azkaban was a place that he deserved without any question.

“Two weeks?” Hermione repeated with a scandalized look over her face. “Two weeks?!”
“Er – yes.” Harry slowly said observing her eyes that was widening and narrowing back and forth. “Is there something wrong if you don’t see the man that has been annoying you half your life?”
“Two weeks.” Hermione breathed out taking a large bite from her sandwich.

She rolled and eyes and chewed and swallowed and Harry wasn’t sure if to be amused or worried about her.

“Mione?”
“Two freaking weeks.” Hermione said swallowing. “That will mean that I won’t be seeing him in the hospital for that long?”
“Yes.” Harry said. “Actually just another week. This week was the first-“
“He’s missed his therapy sessions.”
“I’m sure he’ll get by.” Harry pointed out. “I’m sure wherever he’s going he can most probably pay some hospital or so to tend to him as to not miss any-“
“I didn’t know that.” Hermione said looking sharply back up at him
“Are you supposed to know about it?” Harry asked her. “Wait. So what if you don’t see him in for two weeks?”

Hermione opened her mouth but then no excuse came out.

She wasn’t sure really what annoyed her.

“Well.” Hermione began trying to find an answer in herself. “Well, you know – so I can-“
“So you can..?” Harry slowly asked looking for something to suggest to her.
“So I can..” Hermione said fidgeting for more words. “So I can probably..”
“So you can probably what, Hermione?” he asked finishing half of his first sandwich.

He looked down at her.
It was ever so rare that she was lost for answer or words.
Hermione shook her head and indignantly cleared her throat.
“I wanted to return the book.” Hermione said pointing over the paper bag she threw aside. “I want to give it back to him and tell him off about it.”

“And ask her about the flowers?”
“And that.” Hermione said pouting and crossing her arms over her chest.
She has never looked that frustrated in a very long time.
“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Harry asked.
“Of course.” she snapped at him. “What else do you think?”
“Nothing.” Harry said handing her the fork for her pasta. “It just sounds to me like you really want to see him.”
“I do want to see him.” Hermione shot back at him. “So I can shove this book right up his arse.”
“You’ll do that?” Harry asked with a sheepish smile.

Hermione shot him another look.

“If you’ve forgotten Harry James Potter, I’ve gloriously punched him in our third year.”
Harry was struggling not to laugh hysterically at that moment.
Who would forget what she’s done to that boy that has always been a bane to their existence?
“I’m not scared of him, you know.”
“I know.” Harry said looking up at her. “I know that.”
“I’ll confront him.” Hermione determinedly said. “And in truth, I’ll punch him again if the event calls for it.”

In truth was that, Draco’s trip had only lasted about four days.
He went to Germany for a business trip.
An old German had finally taken interest in a small house his mother owned back there and that being sold within those days, he returned to London with another large amount to add up to his fortune.
The trip was really supposed to last for two weeks seeing he wasn’t sure if he had to make a few days to get to know the old man better and convince him thoroughly with the deal.

But he had insisted things to be quick and short as he also had to go to Switzerland for a farm he was looking forward into buying.
And so upon Draco’s arrival, the following day he met with the old man and show him photographs, blueprints and the history of the house.

The old man met him in his own large villa at Germany.
He fed Draco with a good amount of traditional German meals.
Draco had been slightly formal at first but things didn’t turn out with his usual business façade.
His business talks didn’t even seem to work as they should have done so with the man.

Because what made the man convince that his place at Germany was a place to buy was Draco’s story.

He had admitted to the old man that his father was in prison and well, the rest and bits of his family’s history.
The old man seemed to be taken in by his outstanding perseverance to be unlike his father and to stand on his own and change the ways he has grown up with.

The old man turns out to be a scalawag who had ran away from his own father and had made it on his own simply because he didn’t want to marry a girl that his father has arranged for him in order to gain the largest wine distillery at Northern Germany.

A wine was then brought in to them and he showed him that his success came about when he matched and overthrew the once largest and best-selling wine in all of Northern Germany.

“Strive my dear boy.” the old man said in a very bad English and German accent. “When you strive hard – very hard to want you want, you will get it. You see, once you’ve decided, you will be surprised at how the universe will follow through with all your plans.”

Draco had let another week past without having to go to his therapy sessions.

In Germany, he had undergone a different type of suggested therapy that’s why hs trip lasted for two more days.

Getting back to London, he felt more in shape than the past weeks that he had been having his therapies.

He noted to his assistant to get him a schedule for the coming week.
He had been trying so hard to be quite busy since he got back.
For some reason, he was bothered with himself.
He did send her the book and had asked the author to send a signed note for Hermione.
He wasn’t sure why he did it but he did it anyway.

He felt quite stupid about it for there was absolutely no reason for him to do it but he still did so.
There was guilt in there the moment he decided to do it last minute; the kind of guilt he had been trying to live out from since he changed his course in life.

He was trying to make up for all the years he bullied her despite knowing that a book, even with its author’s autograph, will never make up for all the years he pained her emotionally.
And so, his hiatus from her was done on purpose.

He couldn’t bring himself to show his face to her knowing that she’d definitely ask about it.
She would surely ask him, argue with him, mock him and if any worse, would eventually hex him for it.

He didn’t want any of those things.

He didn’t want to see her angry at him.
He didn’t want any further complications between the two of them while the circumstance had been hot right out of the pot.

And so, it had been almost a month since he saw her and since he decided to go back to his therapy.

And just incase fate was still cruel to him, he’s likely to see her within the week.

But that plan had gone haywire the moment the strong snow storm came one night.

He was stuck like a lot of other witches and wizards in a café at the Diagon Alley

Stranded by the rush hour after his business meeting, he sat at the end and most corner part of the café with his documents, a couple of newspapers when he saw her coming the moment the café door’s bell rang.

She was wearing her Ministry of Magic uniform, disheveled, soaking and looking extremely harassed by the weather outside.

The café was full.
He sank back even lower at the darkened area to ensure that they did not encounter one another.

Behind his paper, he carefully and curiously watch her line up in the long line of people buying something warm to drink the night away.

She was shoving and scuffling off the snow from her uniform and poor-looking cloak under the snowstorm.

He wanted to offer her the small seat next to him but thought better of it.
He didn’t want a scene and Hermione was surely going to make a scene.
He watched as she struggled to get her purse out of her bag.

Loud clanks.
The galleons had rolled all over the floor and Hermione bent forward to pick up the fallen galleons as people after another passed her without even helping her and if any, making her movements and situation by the floor even worse.

He almost smiled at the sight of her.
It was taking every bit of his energy and discipline of the mind to not get up and help her and offer her the seat next to him.

And then it suddenly happened.

He had lowered his paper halfway down his face as he watched her and Hermione suddenly looked up as if she sensed someone looking up at her.

Her eye narrowed and eyebrows quivered.
Draco quickly put the paper right back over his face to hide himself.

Too late.

Hermione had obviously seen him and was already making her way right across the room towards him.

But she might have been too determined and focused that she didn’t see a waited passing by holding a tray of cold glass soda and a platter of warm lasagna.

She collided straight up with the young wizard and the soda and pasta collided straight up to her.

Hermione screamed in shock of the ice-cold liquid pouring all over her chest while the lasagna drenched her whole front.

The waiter gasped in horror and fear.
Some people noticed and looked their way but nobody helped.

The wizard apologized nonstop to her and quickly placed his tray aside to help Hermione who skidded back over the floor.
Hermione was cursing under her breath and shaking her snow and pasta filtered hair and trying to dab away the soda over her uniform.

It had been a very unlucky day for her.
She entered the café drenched in sweat and snow and now she was going to exit it with an additional smell of pasta and soda to go.
She was struggling and straining herself to get up to the floor and out of the muck of mess she’s drop herself onto.
She looked helpless and she looked like she wanted to cry.

“Bloody fucking hell.” Draco muttered, quickly grabbing his scarf from the table.
Before he could realize what he was really doing, he stood up and rolled up his sleeves and grabbed his scarf from the table and rushed towards Hermione’s aid who was obviously in dire and desperate need of some prince charming.
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Through the Son