We learned the sea

Gravity[/SIZE]

Chapter 8

Hermione hadn’t been gone for ten minutes when a flock of owls began bombarding Draco’s windows. Every single letter requested, if not demanded, an interview with him about Erin Andrews. Judging by the sheer volume of letters, Draco thought every reporter at the Prophet had written him, in addition to several people from wizarding magazines.

The last thing Draco wanted to do was sit in front of a stranger and answer questions about what he had done, and, more specifically, why he had done it. No doubt whatever answers he gave would be analyzed from as many angles as they could think up, and certainly his motives would be questioned.

However, the thought of a reporter showing up at his office the following day was horrific, so he quickly showered, dressed, and randomly selected one of the letters. Virginia Merriweather, of the Daily Prophet, had unwittingly secured an exclusive interview.

The article based on his interview was broken into parts, with the first piece published the following day, including a large, full-color, moving picture that alternated from him in Death Eater regalia to him in jeans and a T-shirt in Diagon Alley, smiling at something off camera. He lost his appetite for breakfast upon seeing it and had no desire to read the attached story.

He’d barely finished washing the breakfast dishes when someone knocked on the door. As he dried his hands, Draco placed a bet with himself as to who it was. He doubted Hermione would come alone, but maybe with someone, and he wouldn’t put it past the entire Weasley clan to show up again. Surely Harry or Hermione would have talked them out of such an idea, knowing how much he would hate all the attention. As he turned the knob and opened his door, Draco at last settled on his visitors being Harry and Ron. He was silently pleased with his own accuracy.

“Morning,” he quipped with false cheerfulness. “What brings you two out on this fine morning? Come to help me weed?”

Harry and Ron, familiar with Draco's sarcasm, ignored his comments and lumbered through the door with a quick greeting. They sat on his sofa, while Draco chose to stand, leaning against the entryway, and staring out the window. He knew why they were there, and they had to know that he knew. The air was thick with anticipation.

Finally Harry spoke. “We, er, saw the paper this morning.”

“Is it true?” Ron added quickly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “What, you don’t trust the Prophet to always print the truth?” Then he sighed and sank into an armchair. “Yes, it’s true. Merlin, I hate the attention.”

“Did you read what they’re saying about you?” Harry asked.

“No, and I’d rather not,” he grumbled, giving his friend a pointed look. “I can guess well enough. Some good things, some bad things, a dab of speculation here and there, toss in my father’s name for good measure. That about right?”

“Nearly,” said Ron. “Mum got all emotional reading the girl’s story. She wanted to come right over and hug you, but Harry told her it would be best to wait.”

“Thanks, mate,” Draco said, nodding gratefully to Harry.

“I don’t think that’ll hold them off for long, I’m afraid. Ginny got a bit teary as well, but then she’s extremely emotional anyway these days.”

“Right. Not too long now, is it?” Draco inquired.

“Month and a half,” said Harry, grinning ear to ear.

“Let’s focus, shall we?” said Ron. “We don’t want to grill you or anything, but we are curious. Who is this woman, Sarah, and why haven’t you mentioned her?”

Draco was surprised. “Isn’t there something in the article about her?”

“A bit,” Harry supplied. “They mentioned that she’s a Healer at St. Mungo’s, the one working with the girl, but they’re running a full story on her tomorrow. Today it was mostly about you.”

Draco scowled. “Lovely,” he muttered. “She’d better get just as much attention than me tomorrow, if not more. She’s the one who has been working with Erin and her family for months.”

Harry continued. “Well, I don’t think she’ll be suffering from a lack of attention. The interview with you … well, there was a bit of speculation that the two of you were involved.”

Draco scoffed. “I met her three days ago. We’re certainly not involved.”

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. Then Ron said, “A few people said they saw you two Saturday night, at dinner.”

Bugger. “And who have you been discussing this with?” he asked.

“I tried to talk to Hermione this morning, but she wouldn’t answer her door. Or her Floo. So, it’s just been me and the Weasleys,” said Harry.

Brilliant. No doubt the article mentioned the shape and cut of Sarah’s dress and twisted everything the witnesses had seen into something it wasn’t. “I met her Friday afternoon. It has been a long and full weekend. We had dinner Saturday night, but it meant nothing. She wanted to thank me for helping the Andrews.”

“Well, you should know that’s not what they’re saying,” Ron remarked.

“I don’t care what they’re saying,” said Draco angrily. “They’ll say anything to sell a story, or even one more issue. I am not seeing Sarah, and I have no intention of seeing her.”

“We believe you,” Harry assured him. “I did wonder, considering what you told me after Pansy’s party …”

“What?” said Ron, frowning. “What did you tell Harry? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco shut his eyes and groaned.

“Ron doesn’t know?” Harry asked, confused.

“No, Ron doesn’t know!” insisted Ron. “Tell Ron!”

Draco made no response, just shrugged, his eyes still closed.

“He loves Hermione.”

“I knew it!” shouted Ron, almost jumping out of his seat. “I mean, not that you love Hermione, but I knew there had to be a reason you never dated! Not because you aren’t attracted to women, not because they weren’t interested in you.” He clapped his hands together, clearly unsure of what to do with them. “You great tosser, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not exactly my favorite conversation topic,” Draco replied quietly. “It’s highly complicated and I don’t want you talking to her about it.”

“Oh, sure thing,” said Ron, grinning. “I won’t tell her. When are you going to ask her out? She’s broken up with Fred, you know. Now’s your chance, mate!”

“Ron, give him a minute to breathe!” said Harry.

Draco sent him an appreciative look. “I’m perfectly capable of dealing with … this on my own, Ron, thank you. All I need from you is to keep your mouth shut around her.”

Harry stood abruptly. “We should go. You’ve got a lot going on, and I doubt that’s going to change any time soon. The interview is supposed to be in the paper for the next three days. Tomorrow they’ll run a story on Sarah and the girl’s parents.” He hesitated. “They’re really harping on about the parents being Muggles.”

“I imagined they would,” Draco muttered. “The witch who interviewed me could barely say a full sentence without mentioning that fact, so I am not terribly surprised. This was my first public act of benevolence directed toward a Muggleborn.”

“Want us to say anything to Hermione for you?” asked Ron, following Harry’s lead and standing.

“No, absolutely nothing.” Draco stood, giving his friends a severe look. “She knows better than to believe everything she reads in the paper.” At least, he hoped she did. “I know you want to help, but you should leave it to me.”

“You sure?” Ron asked.

“Positive.”

Over the next three days the rest of the interview was published. As he’d anticipated, every answer he’d given was taken apart, put under a microscope, and analyzed ad nauseum, and everything he had done in the war, both good and bad, was dredged up and scrutinized again. At least, that’s what Harry told him when he visited Draco later in the week. Draco still refused to read a word of it.

ooo

Long days were spent at the office as Draco was involved in merger negotiations between two of Malfoy Industry’s business partners, and he was lucky to get home while it was still daylight. Sarah kept him informed of Erin’s progress by way of regular letters. She and the other Healers now involved in the experimental case wanted to give the medication time to begin working before slowly drawing Erin out of the coma. As such, she wasn’t going to be woken until two weeks after the first dose of the experimental medication was administered.

The media was following the story very closely. There were always reporters mulling about the hospital, looking for a new angle or change in Erin’s condition. Sarah and the hospital’s administrators were willing, almost eager, to speak with them on a daily basis. As the days passed, Draco continued to receive inquiries from reporters, hoping to get a statement from him.

Draco didn’t understand why the media was so interested in him, in particular. The story had been run; what further use was he to them?

Sarah’s last letter, sent two days before Erin was to be woken, was just as cool as her previous letters had been. She wasn’t unfriendly, but professionally distant. He couldn’t blame her, after what the papers had said about him. Without doubt, she was no longer uncertain about what it meant to be a Death Eater. He did not regret choosing not to tell her that evening at dinner, but he wished she could have found out in another way.

In the letter, Sarah told him what time they planned to draw her out of the coma and that the Andrews still wanted him to be there. She mentioned that there would be reporters. She had tried to have them confined to a specific area, but the administrators were adamant that they be allowed outside the girl’s room. She hoped he would come, regardless.

Draco sighed at the thought of trying to avoid the relentless gossip mongers, but not even they could keep him away. He had made a promise, and he would keep it, no matter what. After Sarah’s letter, Draco cleared his afternoon schedule for the day Erin was to wake up. He arrived at the hospital after lunch to discover the lobby full of flowers, flying banners with ‘best wishes’ on them, and other gifts. Curious, Draco inquired of the witch behind the counter.

“They’re all for the Andrews,” she replied. “The Healers don’t want anything in the girl’s room though, so we thought to bring everything down here. Lighten up the lobby a bit. Isn’t it cheerful?”

Draco nodded his assent and then headed for the lift.

When the doors opened on Erin’s floor, a horde of reporters turned their heads as one. He really shouldn’t have been so surprised, as there had been daily articles about some aspect of the girl’s situation in the paper, but he hadn’t expected there to be so many of them. They crowded the hall, quills and cameras at the ready.

A second passed in silence as they stared at each other, then all of the reporters started speaking at once. They rushed forward, crowding around him and peppering him with questions he had no intention of answering as he walked to Erin’s room.

“Oh, Draco! You’re here!” said Sarah, poking her head into the hallway at the disturbance.

He quickened his pace and slipped into the room, the media personnel still begging for a word. When the door clicked shut between them, he smiled at the blissful quiet.

“Good,” said Sarah, giving him a warm smile. “We can get started.”

Draco glanced around the room and saw, in addition to Sarah and the Andrews, four other Healers. The symbols on their robes indicated that they were in research. They were standing in a row on one side of the room and he got the impression they were anxious to begin the procedure.

Draco stayed where he was, just inside the door. The Andrews sat on one side of Erin’s bed, holding hands and talking quietly.

“Ready?” Sarah asked, addressing everyone in the room.

After a chorus of assents, Sarah poured a measure of the medication and went to Erin. She opened the girl’s mouth, carefully poured in the potion, and with a muttered spell, forced the girl to swallow. “Now to pull her out,” she said, placing the tip of her wand on Erin’s temple. She muttered a spell and orange wisps of magic danced around the contact point.

Draco found himself holding his breath, just as he realized everyone else in the room must be doing. He had been told that bringing someone out of a coma carried a small risk. After what felt like an eternity, Erin’s eyes fluttered open. Her parents were elated and took turns hugging their daughter, who was still very groggy and disoriented.

“You can have a few minutes with her, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews,” said Sarah, “and then we need to run a few tests to be sure the medication has taken effect.” She looked to the other four Healers, who hadn’t moved or spoken since Draco had entered.

Mrs. Andrews nodded fervently. “Of course.”

“Thank you for coming,” Sarah whispered to Draco.

“I said I would,” he replied.

“I know,” she said with a smile. “But I half-expected you to back out.”

“Healer Burke?” called one of the other Healers.

Sarah nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, we need to begin the exam.”

They both hugged Erin one more time and then moved their chairs to the edge of the room as the other Healers stepped up to the bed to begin their tests.

Sarah told Draco to wait with Erin’s parents, and then drew the curtain around the bed. All he could hear was Sarah’s soft voice, speaking to Erin as she went about her task. After a few minutes, Sarah emerged from behind the curtain.

Her smile was huge. “She’s going to be fine.”

The Andrews gasped and hugged each other, then thanked Sarah profusely.

“You’re very welcome. My colleagues are going to draw a few labs now. Since this is such a historic case, we want to learn as much as we can.” Sarah pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill. “We just need your permission,” she said.

Mr. Andrews signed the form.

“They’ll be finished in a few minutes, and then you can see her.” Sarah pulled Draco aside. “We don’t need to be here for this. Would you like to get a cup of tea while we wait?”

“Sure,” he said, thinking about the throng of reporters outside the room. The beverage would probably do his nerves good. Draco followed Sarah’s lead through the door. Instantly, the hallway was filled with the noise of people speaking at once, trying to be heard over everyone else who was attempting the same feat. Draco scowled, but Sarah quieted them with a motion of her hand.

“That’s better,” she said with a smile, once the crowd was silent. “Erin was successfully taken out of the coma. The Healers are currently performing tests that will let us know how the medication is working. No one is permitted in the room until such time as the Andrews wish to allow it, and the wards will remain in effect around this room. We will not be taking formal questions at this time. That is all.”

The reporters moved away without complaint, some leaving the scene altogether. Once she was finished, Sarah turned to him. “I’m sure the Andrews will want to introduce you to Erin after the tests are complete.”

As they walked toward the lift, none of the reporters spoke to them, though Draco could tell it was with great restraint that they held back.

Sarah led him through the hospital, chatting about Erin’s potion, the media interest, and how sweet the Andrews were. Draco wasn’t paying much attention because, even though they were relatively alone, he couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched or followed.

Glancing down an open hallway, Draco caught a glimpse of the last thing he wanted to see at that moment: an intricately sculpted, platinum-blonde coiffure that could only belong to Rita Skeeter.

He hissed and darted across the opening, pulling Sarah with him.

“Draco, what—” she started.

“Shh!” he commanded, putting a finger to his lips. Sure enough, he heard the sound of Rita’s heels clicking across the tile floor. “Bugger.” He darted to the first door he saw. It was locked.

The second wasn’t, and he threw it open, reaching for Sarah’s hand.

She pulled away. “What are you doing?”

“Get—come on!” he cried, lunging for her arm and pulling her into the room. He quickly shut the door, locked it, made it imperturbable, and put up more wards than guarded Azkaban. Then he slunk into the darkest corner.

Sarah stood in the middle of the room, watching him with an amused and slightly irritated expression. “Draco,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Shh! She might hear you!”

“Who?” Sarah asked. “And I don’t think she’d hear an explosion in here, you put up so many wards.”

“Skeeter. The most loathsome reporter you never want to meet. I have no doubt she could find us if she put her mind to it.”

“You’re running and hiding from a reporter?” Sarah asked incredulously.

“She’s no ordinary one!” he insisted. “She’s awful, she twists things, lies, cheats—”

“Haven’t you noticed what’s been going on?” Sarah asked, crossing her arms and moving closer to him.

“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shifted uneasily.

Sarah sighed and leaned against a spare bed. “This entire situation with Erin, what you’ve done! People have responded with incredible support! Complete strangers speak to me on the streets, they stop by the hospital to send good wishes to Erin’s parents. The lobby is bursting with gifts and flowers. People have been following this story, and they genuinely care! About her, about me, about you! You haven’t spoken one word on her behalf in the past two weeks, and now you’re hiding in a spare room, cowering like a child. What are you so afraid of?”

Draco was stunned by Sarah’s outburst for a moment before he turned defensive. “Afraid? I’m not afraid. I just don’t want some nosy reporter trying to make me into something I’m not!”

“Like what?” Sarah argued. “A nice guy who did a good thing? Would that be so terrible?”

“Well, no,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“This isn’t just about you, you know,” she continued, her voice more gentle. “Sure, you helped, but have you considered what this means, not just for Erin, but for others? For the hospital? This kind of publicity …” Her face lit up. “We might be able to finally get funding for future cases like Erin’s. You have a wonderful opportunity to help further that, just by saying a few words, because of who you are, how far you’ve come.”

“Who I am?” he repeated. “And who is that, exactly?”

“A-an ex-Death Eater, according to what I’ve read. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s true, and that’s precisely my point,” he answered sharply. “Whatever I do, it all comes back to that. They’ll never let me or anyone else forget! I hate having it dredged up over and over. My past should be just that: the past. Sure, I can help your hospital, but the attention should be focused on the work being done here, not me.”

“And yet, you’re here.” She moved to him, stepping just inside the space he liked to keep to himself, and put her hand on his arm. “I’m glad it’s you. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past weeks, and … I want to say … I don’t care about all of that.”

Her eyes were intense and vulnerable, and he read the unspoken message in them. He started in surprise. “Oh.”

“It’s obvious that you aren’t that person anymore. What you’ve done for Erin shows me the kind of man you are now. I don’t care about your past, Draco. All I’m interested in is your future.”

Draco was at a complete loss for what to say and thought for a moment she might try to kiss him. She didn’t, but she didn’t move away, either.

“You don’t have to say anything right now, if you’d prefer,” she murmured. “Take whatever time you need.”

How the conversation had jumped to this topic, he couldn’t recall. “Time won’t change anything, Sarah. You say that you don’t care, but you don’t really know what it is you’re dismissing so lightly.”

“I’m not dismissing anything lightly, Draco. I’ve done an awful lot of thinking, and I’ve talked to people who explained things to me in … in detail. While it didn’t exactly thrill me to learn what was involved in working for Voldemort, I also know that you turned away from that life, and now look at you! You’re successful and respected—”

Draco laughed at that. “No, not even close. Potter is respected, Weasley, Granger …” He stopped, realizing he was having a semantic argument with Sarah when it didn’t matter one whit. If he could turn Hermione down, this woman didn’t have a chance. At least Hermione knew, in large part, what it would mean to be involved with him.

Draco sensed that Sarah was about to start up again, so he spoke first. “Look, Sarah, I appreciate what you’ve said about me. Perhaps, if things were different … it might be possible.” Her face fell and he hated that she would be sad over him. He continued. “The thing is, there’s someone else. You’re a really wonderful woman, and I admire you a lot, but I’m afraid I’m not available.”

Sarah blinked, taken by surprise at his admission and stepped back. “Oh! I … the newspaper said you weren’t seeing anyone. I’m so sorry.”

He took a breath, grateful for the return of his personal space. “It’s … complicated,” he replied.

Sarah smiled sadly. “I hope you’re not hiding from her the way you’re hiding from this reporter.”

Draco’s jaw dropped and he stared at Sarah. “What do you mean by that?” he managed to ask.

She shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself as though cold. “I would think that it was obvious.”

“I’m not hiding,” he asserted stubbornly. He had very good reasons for why he wasn’t with Hermione. Though … was it possible they were really just excuses? Was he hiding from her, from a relationship?

“I think we should go and check on the Andrews,” said Sarah at last. Draco hadn’t noticed that she’d moved toward the door.

“All right,” he said, his head feeling thick and full.

They made their way back to Erin’s room, ignoring the reporters along the way. Once inside, one of the Healers asked to speak with Sarah. Erin’s parents were in good spirits, smiling and talking closely with each other and with their daughter until the five Healers went into a side room, leaving Draco with the Andrews.

Mrs. Andrews stood and hesitantly approached Draco. “Thank you,” she said, “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Did the Healers have any news?”

“Not yet,” said Mr. Andrews, “but they seemed optimistic. There were no adverse reactions to their tests; Erin didn’t exhibit any signs of the active disease. They won’t know for sure for a few hours.”

“That’s wonderful,” Draco remarked, smiling broadly.

“Mr. Malfoy,” said Mr. Andrews, indicating the bed. “I would like for you to meet our daughter, Erin.”

The girl smiled at him shyly. “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Mum and dad said you’re paying for all of this.”

Draco returned the smile and approached the bed, stopping near the foot. “It was my pleasure, Erin. I bet you’re happy to see your parents.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said. “I’m happy that I won’t accidentally hurt anyone anymore.”

Draco nodded solemnly. “Have a good summer, Erin.”

“Thank you,” she said.

The other Healers returned, along with a mediwitch with a tray of food. “All right, now it’s time for Erin to eat and get some rest,” Sarah said. “She’s got a significant recovery ahead of her, and we don’t want her to get worn out.” Then she addressed the Andrews. “The tests look good so far, but it will take twenty-four hours before we can say for certain.”

The Andrews were pleased and the Healers left for the lab with their samples and data.

“We can’t thank you enough, Mr. Malfoy,” said Mr. Andrews, standing and extending his hand. “You’ve given me back my daughter, my family. There is no way to adequately thank you in this or any lifetime.”

“You are truly welcome,” Draco said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be going. I have a few things to do before I head back to the office.” He wanted to do something other than stand around feeling awkward, and he needed to give some thought to what Sarah had said about hiding from people.

ooo

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Draco said, forcing himself not to rub his eyes in disbelief at the sight before him. He stood just inside the front door, looking out at the last person he expected to see.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Oh. Um, okay.” A feeling of panic welled in him as he let her into his home.

She walked a few steps into the house then stopped, and turned around to him.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked automatically.

“That sounds lovely,” she said.

While he prepared the tea, she sat at the table, examining what she could see of the house as though she hadn’t been there a hundred times or more.

When it was ready, he sat across from her, placing the sugar bowl between them and letting her retrieve two cubes before reaching for his one. She stirred her tea slowly, appearing deep in thought.

The silence was beginning to get to him, so he asked, “What are you doing here, Hermione?”

“It’s nice to see you too, after all this time,” she retorted, sipping casually at her tea, unconcerned about his state of agitation.

“Yes, well, I didn’t expect to see you … today,” he said, feeling his usual ambivalence at her presence. This time, however, his feelings leaned toward happy to see her.

“The thing is, it’s been weeks since I’ve seen you. I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?” he asked.

She shrugged, not looking at him. “Nothing in particular … or something. It doesn’t matter.”

“So … you’re here because—”

“I missed you, all right?” she said, frustrated. “Is that so terrible? I hadn’t realized that I would be agreeing to an extended absence. I’m not going to … press you, or make things hard, but I didn’t see the harm in dropping by.”

He sighed, warmed more by her words than by his tea. “You’re lucky I was here,” he said, taking a sip from his cup. “I’m rarely here during the day of late, and I’ve only got about half an hour before I have to leave again.”

Hermione nodded. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?”

Draco shrugged. “Work, and more work.”

She smiled. “Sounds exciting.”

“Tremendously,” he said, swirling his tea.

“Draco … I’ve been thinking,” she said, picking absently at the edge of the table.

He suspected the real reason behind her visit was about to be brought to his attention. If she hadn’t already said she missed him, he would have been terrified that she was about to say she’d changed her mind, that she regretted kissing him and wasting her time on him.

“Oh?” he said. “What about?”

“Well, you,” she responded immediately, finally looking at him.

Merlin, he missed her too. “What about me?”

“We have to talk about this,” she said frankly. “If this isn’t a good time, that’s fine, but I will come back later, and it will be soon. It’s up to you.”

“Talk about what, exactly?” he asked.

“The last time I was here, you said you needed time, and that’s fine. However, I think I have a right to know just what I’m waiting for and when you think you might get around to dealing with it. I have waited a long time for you, and if I’m going to keep waiting, I need a reason.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re pushing me,” he said angrily.

“Maybe it’s time someone did,” she replied, unfazed. “That last time we talked, you said you didn’t know when, if ever, we could be together. I would like to work that out today; to choose between ‘when’ and ‘if ever.’”

Draco scowled. “What exactly do you suggest? Don’t you think I’ve thought this through?”

“I’m sure you have,” she said. “But often, when you’re embroiled in a difficult situation, it’s hard to see all sides.” Hermione reached over and put her hand on his arm. “Talk to me, Draco. Let’s see what we can figure out together.” She cocked her head slightly. “We’ve always said we make a good team.”

“True …” He trailed off. For several long moments he was quiet, considering telling her everything. Merlin, they would be there all night if he did that! Even then, there was no guarantee that it would help anything. But all she wanted was for him to try, to tell her what was keeping him away. “I’m not sure how to start.”

Hermione retracted her hand away and wrapped both around her cup. “Say the first thing that comes to your mind.”

Draco shoved his chair away from the table and started pacing, frowning as his thoughts ran in circles through his head. Eventually, he paused, not looking at her when he spoke. “It’s … layers,” he said haltingly, still trying to find the right words. “I’ve been slowly working through them for years. Working my way …” He shifted his eyes just enough to lock with hers. “To you.”

She nodded encouragingly. “That sounds nice. How many layers left?”

“Just one,” he said, running a hand through his hair and exhaling slowly.

“Any chance we could work through it together?” she asked.

He shook his head fervently. “No. It’s nothing to do with you; I don’t want to bring you in to that.”

“Draco, I need for you to be able to talk to me.” She took a deep breath. “If there’s ever going to be anything between us, we need to be able to open up to each other, be honest. No matter what. You’ve got to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” he insisted. “I simply don’t see what telling you this will accomplish.”

“It will show me that you’re serious about wanting to be with me,” she explained. “That you’re willing to try.”

He frowned again, frustrated. It was so simple to say, but extremely difficult at the same time. “It’s my father,” he said abruptly, before he lost his nerve.

Hermione finally looked as though she grasped the significance of this final layer. “What about him?” she asked.

Draco shook his head. “That’s all you or anyone needs to know. He is my father; I am his son. His blood flows through my veins. He is a part of me and always will be.”

“Of course that’s true,” she said. “What are you not telling me?”

His frustration was growing. Wasn’t it obvious? It was clear as crystal in his own mind. “His actions, beliefs, prejudices, are reflected by me. I used to spout off everything I heard him say, used to want to be him. Just like him, anyway.”

“You aren’t that boy anymore, Draco,” said Hermione sternly.

Draco clenched his jaw, his eyes blazing. “You want to know what really haunts me? What keeps me awake at night, gives me nightmares? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation or breaking eye contact. If she was frightened at all, as he had feared she didn’t show it.

“Fine.” Draco resumed pacing, unsure how to articulate years of self-doubt and fear. “My father … he wasn’t always that way. My mother told me he used to be a decent person, in his circles, though he was always prejudiced and narrow minded. But he was hard-working, ambitious, and did much for the company he would someday inherit from his father. He loved my mother once, very deeply, and they had several good years together.”

Draco took a deep breath and glanced at Hermione. She was watching him with rapt attention. He continued. “Then the Dark Lord began to grow stronger. My father didn’t join up straight out of school, as most suspect. He married my mother first thing and pledged political support to him, but after a few years that he was recruited into the Death Eaters.

“But my father grew distant, started drinking more, spending more and more time with the other Death Eaters. I think my mother had me in an attempt to force him to return his attention to his family.”

Draco let out a long breath. “There’s no way to know if it would have worked. It had seemed to, but then the Dark Lord was temporarily defeated. Still, his poison had sunk into my parents. After his return, it only got worse. Though they never argued in front of me, never let me see that their relationship was in shambles, I could feel it whenever we were together.”

He paused. Hermione was still unfazed. “You remember the night I found out my mother died?”

Her eyes suffused with sympathy. “Of course I do.”

“It … it was Lucius who did it.”

Now Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh!” she breathed. “Draco, I’m so sorry! Are you certain it was him?”

“Mostly. Who else would it have been?” he said bitterly. “And you’ve nothing to be sorry for. All I want to hear is that you understand now.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry, Draco. What your father did … was horrible, but I don’t see what that has to do with us.”

He looked at her incredulously. “Truly?” When she nodded, he shook his head. “My father loved my mother once. More than anything.” Draco gave only half a thought to the realization he had, in his own way, told Hermione he felt the same way about her. “What he did to her, to his family … I don’t want to be like him!”

Again, her eyes widened as she processed what he meant. “Draco!”

“Don’t bother trying to convince me that it’s not possible. I’ve already left my family once. I cannot bear the thought of hurting you, yet I have it within me to do the very thing I loathe.”

“I don’t believe that’s true,” she said stubbornly. “You left your parents’ side because it was the wrong side. That was a decision you had to make. You aren’t going to run and join up in the next Dark army that comes along.”

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t have to be a band of Dark wizards,” he insisted. “I could let something else come before you in my life: work, travel, other people. To the point that I have effectively abandoned you. My father was capable of such short-sightedness, such singular focus; I am too.”

Hermione gave him a doubtful look. “There isn’t any point in discussing what may or may not ever happen, Draco. I trust you not to turn into your father; the very fact that you don’t want to tells me so much.”

“My father wasn’t always a monster!” Draco shouted, pounding his fist against the wall. “He didn’t set out to abandon his wife and son, but that’s what he did. Completely and absolutely gave himself over to that madman, to the point that he could kill her at the Dark Lord’s order.”

“Why did Voldemort want your mother dead?” Hermione asked.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never been able to find out,” Draco replied, feeling weary at the emotional toll of talking about the darkest blot on his soul.

Hermione nodded sympathetically. “You should go see him, then. Find out what happened to your mum, ask him why he did what he did. See if you can get him to explain his motives. I think you’ll see that you aren’t exactly like him. Sort this out, confront him, yell at him—whatever you have to do to put this behind you.”

He stared at her, incredulous. “Go … see him?”

She stood and walked over to him, close enough that he could smell her shampoo. It was definitely inside his personal space, but he found the distance still too far. It was true, what he had read, about the force of attraction being inversely proportional to the distance between the two objects. At that moment, he wanted nothing but to pull her close, as close as he could get, never to let her go, but he kept his arms firmly at his sides.

“Yes.” Her tone held no room for question. “Go see him. Do what you must, Draco. Don’t give him any hold over you; don’t let him keep you from the life you want. If you don’t, you’ll never be free from his shadow!”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“I do,” she said confidently, smiling slightly. “After everything else you’ve done, I know you can.”

He looked away, down, at his feet. Without a doubt, he didn’t deserve someone like her in his life, yet there she was, trying to establish herself there. That knowledge comforted him, more than he thought possible.

“I need to think about this. It’s not so easily done, and I have no idea what I would say.”

“Think about it,” she said gently. “You’ll figure it out. I should get going now; don’t want you to be late.”

Draco nodded and followed her to the door, opening it for her and then pausing in the frame. “Thank you,” he said, “for coming over. For trying to do something. I’ve missed you too.”

Hermione smiled. “I’ll be back soon, all right?”

“I hope I’m here when you do.”

Then Hermione winked. “I’m in good with your secretary. I’ll find you.”

ooo

“Where is he?” muttered an annoyed and pacing Ron.

“Ron, if you don’t relax, I’m going to leave.” Pansy’s voice was strained. “He saidhe would come, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but I sent the letter over an hour ago!”

“Do you want me to force a Calming Draught down your throat? This isn’t about you, anyway! Besides, he keeps his word, you know that.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You’re right. What was I thinking? His name is practically synonymous with trust and honor,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Weasley, I’m going to pretend you were talking about Longbottom in order to keep today pleasant.”

Ron and Pansy whipped around to see Draco standing in the doorway of the waiting room, looking quite smug.

“Malfoy! Where have you been?” Ron demanded.

Draco sauntered in, setting his cloak and the package in a chair. “Why, Weasley—miss me?” He sat down gracefully and folded his hands in his lap.

“When did you get here?” Ron demanded.

“Just in time to hear you whine about me not being here,” Draco replied.

Ron folded his arms over his chest. “I wrote to you an hour ago.”

“Honestly, Weasley, what’s the big deal?” He frowned. “Have I missed something? Is she all right?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s fine, at least, considering. She went into labor about an hour and half ago. Harry, Hermione and Mum are back there now. Mum is a mess, trying to keep Ginny calm, and Hermione is trying to keep Mum in check. I was in charge of letting everyone know.”

Draco crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back in the seat. “And you’ve done that. I’m here now. However, I was in the middle of a meeting discussing a merger that’s been on the table for nearly three months now. The fate of two hundred employees is up in the air, and we are trying to find a way for them to keep their jobs. Nevertheless, I ended it early and made my way here, and I was happy to do it. I think only an hour late is quite good considering what the rest of my day was supposed to entail.”

Ron was gaping.

“Hello, Pansy,” Draco said, glancing up at her.

“Thank you for showing up and saving me from his fussing,” said Pansy, sitting down and grabbing the nearest magazine. When she held it up to start perusing, Draco saw that it was an old issue of Witch Weekly. A picture of he and Sarah with Erin waved at him from the cover.

“My pleasure,” he remarked, and then turned back to Ron. “I’ve toldyou before that I actually do work, Weasley. It is not my problem that you continually choose to ignore me.”

At that moment, the door to the room burst open admitting a great raucous of noise, caused by Fred, George, Percy and his wife, Arthur, Charlie, Bill and Fleur Weasley.

Draco looked at Ron with a raised brow. “It would appear I’m not the only one who didn’t come immediately when summoned?”

Ron ignored him, greeting his family. The pertinent news was spread, details provided, and the redheaded clan left for Ginny’s room.

When just the three of them were left, Ron sighed. “Sorry, mate. I was really getting anxious. Harry put me in charge of alerting everyone, and as you saw, everyone was late. Except Mum, of course, she’s been here since the beginning. I’m really glad you’re here.”

Draco nodded. “Me too.”

“How have you been?” asked Pansy, setting aside the magazine. “I haven’t seen you in ages, it seems like. Since the night you show up drunk on my doorstep at 3 in the morning, if memory serves …When was that, anyway? Two months ago?”

He met her gaze and sighed. “A little bit over, yeah. I’ve been busy with work. This merger has required every spare second of my time. It’s a good thing the business about Erin has calmed down, otherwise I’d barely sleep.”

“Sometimes I think you work too much, Draco,” Pansy said.

“Funny,” he said, smirking. “Ron doesn’t think I ever work. Maybe I work just the right amount, then.”

“You work too much if you haven’t been able to see your friends once in almost two months,” Pansy scolded. “Have you managed to see Hermione?”

He leveled his gaze on her. “Couple of times, yes. What of it?”

Pansy shrugged noncommittally. “Oh, nothing, I’m sure. Just remember, when you start dating, you won’t be able to be so busy.”

Ron spun around, his eyes wide. Slowly, his gaze drifted from Draco to Pansy and back. “Are you going to start dating soon?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, amused by his friend’s behavior. “Not that I know of,” he replied.

“Oh, okay. I’m sure I would have heard if you were.”

“Right …”

Pansy was watching him, a shrewd expression on her face. When Draco met her gaze, she nodded. “Ron knows?”

“Yes,” said Draco with a groan.

“Pansy knows?” Ron exclaimed. “Was I the only person who didn’t know?”

Both Draco and Pansy looked at him and Pansy shook her head.

“No,” replied Draco. “You, Pansy and Harry are the only people who do know.”

“Oh. Right. Hermione doesn’t know.”

Draco stood abruptly. “I’m going for a walk.” The Weasleys returned to the waiting room just as Draco was leaving it. His timing couldn’t have been better, he thought, as he strode through the hospital, looking for a quiet place to think.

In the three weeks since Hermione had knocked on his door, offering her help, Draco had seen her twice. They had met for lunch the week after and then briefly for coffee the week before. Each time she had encouraged him to visit his father, and each time he had refused to commit. The thought of facing Lucius after so much time was daunting. He had thought about what he wanted to say to the man, but hadn’t yet worked up the courage.

He returned to the waiting room periodically for updates, but never stayed around long. The room was full of noise, of people talking all at once and trying to talk over the person sitting beside them. He couldn’t take it, and made up excuses to leave as soon as he decided it wouldn’t be too rude to leave again.

Hermione had been in the room on two occasions. On the first, she’d been talking to Fred and George. That had been the shortest interval that Draco stayed in the room. Even though he knew she had broken up with Fred, seeing them talking together made him want to cause bodily harm to the red-head, who he knew was trying to get back together with her. The second time he saw her, he had provided dinner for everyone. He had eaten with the large group, but he couldn’t relax. All they did was sit, and wait, and talk. Draco considered asking Hermione if she wanted to try and sneak into a Restricted Area with him, but she was in the middle of a conversation with Pansy. He tried alone and failed.

Finally, at two-thirty in the morning, Harry and Ginny had their baby. Only Draco was awake, enjoying the peace and quiet, sitting outside the packed waiting room, reading. He looked up when he sensed someone approaching. It was Molly, and she had tears in her eyes.

Draco was immediately alarmed, but Molly smiled. “Happy tears,” she assured him quietly. “They’d like to see you, Draco.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“Yes. They don’t want to see everyone all at once. They asked for you first. Room 323”

“Okay.” He stood and found the right room, surprised at being especially requested by the new parents.

Ginny was resting in bed, and she looked exhausted but also brilliantly happy. Harry was standing beside the bed, holding her hand and talking quietly to his wife. They looked up and smiled when he arrived.

Draco crossed to Harry and went to shake his hand, but Harry pulled him into an embrace.

“Congratulations,” said Draco, smiling.

Harry beamed.

Draco leaned over to hug Ginny and kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a million Galleons,” she sighed, dreamily. The room was quiet and almost dark; there was a muted light in one corner and another near the baby’s bed. Ginny motioned toward where her child slept. “It’s a boy,” she said, pride showing in her voice.

Draco went to see the baby. He was wrapped tightly in a blue blanket and was sleeping soundly. He had a head full of thin hair, dark, like Harry’s, and just as wild. He moved a little and something inside Draco softened.

“Do you want to hold him?” Ginny asked.

Draco spun around, incredulous. “Hold him?”

Harry nodded and picked his son off the baby bed. “Yeah, go on.”

“I don’t know; I’ve never held a baby before.” Draco stared at the baby, then gave Harry a cautious look. He wasn’t sure he even should hold him; the child was too pure, too innocent …

“You’ll do fine,” Harry encouraged, gently placing his son in Draco’s arms.

Hesitantly, Draco accepted the baby, feeling strangely awkward. He tried to mimic what he had seen other people do, but then Ginny laughed.

“Come here,” she said.

He went to the bedside and Ginny instructed him on the correct way to hold a baby. Though he still felt as though if he made any wrong moves he would hurt the sleeping infant, he felt better about holding him. The position Ginny had put him in felt very natural. Within moments, Draco was enchanted, certain that the tiny life form in his arms was perfect.

“What’s his name?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the baby.

“James Ronald Potter.”

Draco smiled and spoke softly, “Hello, James Potter.”

“Say, umm, Draco. Ginny and I want to ask you something.”

He tore his gaze away from James’ face and saw Harry and Ginny holding hands and grinning widely at him. “What?” he asked warily.

“We want you to be his godfather,” said Ginny.

Draco’s eyes widened, astonishment written in bold print across his face. “You want … me. To be his godfather.” When they both nodded, he frowned. “Why me? What about Ron?”

Harry shrugged. “Ron got the middle name and he gets the next one. We just both want you to do this.”

“But … why? I’ve no experience with babies, and you can’t possibly think I’d be any good at this.”

“What’s there to do?” Harry asked. “Be there for holidays, birthdays, special events, that kind of thing. All it means is that you’re required to be part of our lives—for good.”

James gurgled and made a tiny fussy noise. Draco looked at him, and watched as his tiny face scrunched in protest at something. His little arms flailed uselessly, and Draco captured one of his hands, gazing in awe at the way his fingers were already wrinkled at the knuckles.

The sounds that came from James’ mouth and the sight of him, pure, vulnerable, and beautiful, changed Draco’s heart forever. As he stared at the tiny living thing in his arms that was trying to understand its new place in the world, Draco realized that the thing he’d been dreading had just happened and he’d barely noticed it. The third world-changing event in his life wasn’t a witch, as he had feared, but a tiny, helpless baby.

“That’s very … Slytherin of you, Potter.” Draco watched his friend shift nervously. “Attaching me to this baby to keep me around. What gave you the impression that such a thing was necessary?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a feeling I get sometimes, when I see you interacting with people. You’re going somewhere, Malfoy. Your life is bigger than a small cottage by the sea. I’m glad you’re there now, but I don’t think it’ll last.”

Draco was quiet for a few minutes as he considered his friends’ words. His first thought was of Hermione. If they were together, nothing could pull him away … Then he realized his life could take both of them away, somewhere else, if he ever wanted it. But they could still be in Harry’s life, even from a slight distance.

If he wasn’t with Hermione … he could easily see himself leaving someday. The thought of watching her fall in love with someone else, get married, have a family, caused an intense, throbbing pain in his heart. He wouldn’t let that happen, he refused; he would work through his issues, force himself through.

“I’m not going anywhere, Potter,” Draco affirmed.

“Well, then? What do you say?” said Ginny, nervously. “Of course, if you don’t want to, we’d understand.”

He looked at them. “Are you sure you want me?”

“Yes,” they both assured him.

Draco shook his head. “You do realize I’ll spoil him rotten.”

Ginny grinned and clapped her hands. “Is that a yes?”

Draco couldn’t help but grin too, amazed that he could feel so full over so small a thing. He had thought his life would be complete and whole with Hermione in it, but how he suspected that he wanted even more. He nodded. “You’ve been warned.”

“Oh, thank you, Draco!” she exclaimed.

“What are you thanking mefor? You’re the one who just went through twelve hours of labor to deliver my godson. I should thank you,Mrs. Potter.”

“Just look at you holding him. You’re a natural, Draco.”

Harry turned to him then, a serious look on his face. “Let’s agree on something here, Malfoy. He won’t be spoiled; we won’t let you.”

Draco smirked. “I look forward to watching you try to stop me.”

Just then there was a soft knock and all three turned toward the door. An exhausted looking Hermione entered with a tray full of food. “Sorry it took me so long. They told me I’d have to wait until normal breakfast hours to get a meal, but I wouldn’t hear of it.” She set the tray down beside Ginny’s bed. “The woman didn’t know who she was dealing with. I told her Harry Potter’s son had just been born and that his wife was hungry. She saw reason, and here I am.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” said Ginny, practically lunging for the piece of bread on the tray.

“There’s plenty for you too, Harry,” Hermione said.

“No, Ginny can have it,” he said, his lips once again slipping into a grin. Draco decided Harry’s face was in danger of getting stuck in that ridiculous expression.

James chose that moment to let out a cry, and both his parents and Hermione looked at him. It was the first time Hermione noticed Draco, as he had been standing in the darker corner of the room, and her expression lightened.

Draco started pacing the room, hoping it would help.

“See?” said Ginny, when James stopped fussing after a few circuits. “You’re a natural.”

Draco smiled at her and continued pacing. “I’m a Malfoy. We’re naturally good at everything.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Except humility.”

Hermione crossed the room and Draco stopped moving. “May I hold him?” she asked. “I haven’t had a chance yet, since I was off procuring sustenance for his mum.”

“James,” said Draco, speaking softly to the baby while keeping his eyes locked with Hermione’s. “This is Hermione. She’s a very good friend of your dad and mum. She’s really smart. One day, when you have problems with schoolwork, or women, or life, go to her. Not your dad. He’s a bit thick.”

Hermione’s expression turned amused.

Draco continued. “Definitely don’t ask your Uncle Ron. He’s worse off than your dad.”

“Draco!” Hermione laughed.

He looked at her with an innocent expression. “What? He needs to know this stuff. It’s important. The future of his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s is on the line.”

“And you are the one to tell him.”

He nodded smugly but remained silent.

“It’s my turn,” she insisted, reaching for the baby.

He hesitated, and then carefully handed James to Hermione. “Mind his head,” he told her. “And keep him wrapped nice and tight. If he fusses, walk him.”

“Thanks, Draco,” she quipped. “I think I can handle it.”

While she walked the room, Draco glanced at Harry and Ginny. They were talking quietly, and Harry was glancing between Hermione and himself. Then he met Draco’s gaze, shrugged and turned away. Then Ginny looked at him and smiled widely. Suspicion settled in Draco’s gut like a boulder and he realized that Ginny probably knew about what had happened between him and Hermione.

He didn’t like thinking that someone else was privy to their personal exchange, but he realized Hermione must have needed to talk about it.

Draco frowned and his gaze shifted to Hermione and James. His harsh expression melted. Seeing her that way, tenderly holding the infant and talking to him quietly, did something indescribable to him. A baby had changed his world, and that same baby, in the arms of the woman he loved, made him realize that he wanted that life, that he would do anything to have it. Draco would do whatever was required in order to make that happen, even see his father. He looked at James’ parents and saw them still whispering quietly.

“I should warn you, Potter, that I intend to use all of my skills and influence to ensure that your firstborn is sorted into my house.”

Hermione’s head whipped up, a puzzled and playful look on her face. “Do you honestly think this child, whose parents and grandparents were in Gryffindor, could ever be a Slytherin?”

Harry laughed.

Draco arched an eyebrow at her. “If his godfather has anything to say about it, I’d say he’s got a very good chance.”

Her eyes widened. “His what?”

He smirked. “You heard me.”

Hermione glanced to Harry and Ginny for affirmation, and then back at James. “Uncle Ron is going to be very unhappy,” she cooed, a smile gracing her lips. Then she looked back at Harry and Ginny, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Oh, Harry! We simply must teach James to call him Uncle Won-Won!”

Harry and Ginny burst out laughing, and Hermione joined them. They laughed so hard they started crying. Draco scowled. Honestly, it wasn’t that funny.

Hermione stopped laughing eventually and said, “Congratulations, Draco. I think the proud parents made an excellent choice.”

“I still think they’ve gone round the bend,” Draco remarked, averting his face so that no one saw him blush. “Ron should be the responsible godparent, and I would be the one you aren’t sure you should leave alone with him.”

“Well, now you’re just being trite,” said Ginny. “I have every confidence in you, Draco.”

That comment officially put him beyond the edge of personal comfort. It was getting too soft and friendly in the room, and he needed fresh air. “Fantastic. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find the loo.”

When he returned from a nice long walk around the third floor to clear his head, Ginny was asleep and Hermione was gone. Harry was sitting next to Ginny, nearly asleep himself. Draco walked to where James was sleeping and sat down next to the small bed. Harry came to join him, yawning.

“Mind if I stay a bit?” Draco asked.

“No, not at all. Enjoy the quiet while you can. Once her family comes in …”

Draco shuddered. “Needless to say, I’ll not be here for that.”

“Wish I could go with you.”

He chuckled, and then turned his attention to James. “Harry, he’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.” He watched James, his godson, breathe in and out, mouth slightly parted. He looked at the tiny fingers and facial features and for some reason, he thought about Harry. He’d only been a baby when the Dark Lord had tried to kill him, not too much bigger than James. The thought angered Draco in a way he’d never been before. To kill a babywas sick. How could a grown man be so afraid of something so helpless?

“Want one?” said Harry, jokingly.

Draco’s expression was dark, and he knew it. “I just realized what a frightening concept that would be.”

“Oh? How so?” Harry asked.

Draco watched as James breathed. In … out … in … out. “I don’t want to think of what I might do. Just the thought of someone hurting your child, or of something bad happening to him, makes my blood boil, and he’s not even mine. I know what I’m capable of, and it scares me.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a few violent thoughts myself already. But you’ll have someone around to balance you, like I have Ginny. I just look at her and my blood starts to cool.”

Draco scowled and turned away from Harry, but he couldn’t hold the expression after his eyes fell on James. He spoke quietly. “I don’t have someone to cool my blood, Harry. I’m … there has been a block, something keeping me from accepting what’s right in front of me. But I’m not going to let it control my life. I … I think I’m finally ready to explore it.” James made another fussy noise.

“Yeah?” Harry said.

Draco nodded.

“Good. It’s about time, really.” Harry picked his son off the bed when he started crying. “I think he’s hungry.”

“I’ll go,” said Draco. “I’ll try to stop by again before she goes home.”

“All right. Thanks for being here, for agreeing to do this,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head as he reached the door. “You’re barmy for asking me, but … I’m honored despite your lunacy. Later, Harry.”

ooo
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