Hermione awoke in the crazy sunlight piercing her eyes. She glanced on the other side of the bed only to find no one, like literally no one had slept in on the sheets. She composed herself and headed to the living room in their suite. There, she found Draco, reading.
"What is it?" She asked. Draco was startled from her sudden question. "You're awake." He said flatly and stood up. "Let's have breakfast." He paced closer to Hermione and offered his hand.
"You haven't answered my question," Hermione retorted. "It's just—I'm reading this folklore about the Malfoy ring and I don't know if it's true." Draco said appalled. "The ring is here, alive on it's own, we cannot dismiss a folklore, this is a magical world after all." Hermione remarked and that made Draco smile. "You're truly brilliant." He added.
"How's your scars?" He asked glancing at Hermione's arms.
"How's your sleep?" Hermione asked back in sarcasm. Draco laughed a bit. "I couldn't, not after what suddenly transpired last night, I couldn't close my eyes either, fearing it might attack you again. I just sat there, on the chair beside you. You're in this mess because of me." Draco said thoughtfully, flashing his thunder cloud eyes on Hermione.
Hermione choked on her juice, "It's healed. Thank you by the way. Now, we've got another problem to solve. It's piling up, Malfoy. We cannot even undone the curse we're currently on, and then there's this," Hermione stretched her arms, gesturing on her fresh scars that will soon fade, thanks to Draco's healing spells.
"That's why we're here, to see Papa and ask him about it. And in the mean time, don't you dare lie to me on how you are feeling. The sectumsempra was not nothing, it was a threat." Draco said, sipping his tea.
***
"Draco, Draco, Draco." A man who's as old as Dumbledore stood in front a great window, overlooking all of Paris. His hair is as long as Lucius', he has a wooden, varnished cane, wearing an all black velvet tuxedo and those stormy gray eyes that reminded Hermione so much of Draco beamed into them.
"This is—" Draco was cut off.
"Miss Granger. Hermione Jean Granger, Lucius has told me so much about you. Muggle born, top of her class, brightest witch of her age, a sworn enemy to Draco," The intimidating voice of Abraxas Malfoy interjected in the air that sent Hermione down the memory lane.
Lucius in Diagon Alley.
"Yes, Papa. And we need your help." Draco finished and held Hermione's hand, gripped it hard. Hermione quickly attended his discomfort by scooting closer to Draco and held his arm with her free hand.
"You sound like you got a woman pregnant, Draco." Abraxas smirked. "Have a seat." He gestured to his grandiose sofas to take a seat and that's what all three of them did.
"Quinn, make us some tea, make it hot, for Draco and his wife, Miss Granger." A house elf appeared to the side of Abraxas conjuring three cups of tea and a teapot.
"Quinn is happy to serve young master Draco again in such a long time." The house elf remarked.
"Thank you, Quinn." Draco answered and smiled at the house elf who's been there all throughout his childhood summers. Quinn smiled and disappeared with just the snap of her fingers.
"How'd you know?" Draco asked. "The world knows Draco, the birds chirp, and the wands whisper." Abraxas answered. "So your mother, made you wear the ring, I see." He added.
YOU ARE READING
Aftermath
Fanfiction"What brings you here, Malfoy?" Hermione questioned the man in front of her, perplexed. "Is that how you greet an old friend, Granger?" Draco smirked as if they were . . . actually friends. "I do not have time for your nonsense tricks, Malfoy. Feel...
