The storm raged on, and Draco Malfoy felt uneasy.
As his eyes were permanently glued to one of the vast windows in his flat, watching the trashing trees and the pattering rain, Draco knew he could not sleep yet. Something was amiss. Something was bound to happen.
And so, he waited.
Perched on his plush couch beside the blazing fireplace, he tried to keep himself busy by reading a novel or updating himself with the latest news of the Wizarding World. Such was his distraction from these simple tasks; his eyes kept on drifting towards the windows. Deeply sighing, he finally gave up any activity and merely stared out the window.
Draco briefly looked at his watch, noting that it was close to midnight. 'I should really get ready for bed,' he begrudgingly thought with a sigh, easing himself up from the couch. He was to visit his ailing mother in the Malfoy Manor tomorrow. It would do him some good if he had some sleep tonight, knowing tomorrow would only give him a troublesome heart.
As he was readying himself to leave the room, a sudden pop rang in his private study area.
"Master Draco has visitors," the house-elf said, bowing so low his nose almost touching the carpeted floor.
"Visitors?" he echoed, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. He tried to recall if Theo meant to see him today, and then proceeded to think his best friend wouldn't even bother coming through the door. "Have you asked for their names, Tippy?"
The house-elf looked at him in horror, eyes suddenly widening like saucers. "Forgive Tippy, Master Draco!" he shrilly exclaimed. "Tippy forgot and failed you, master! Tippy will accept any punishment." He tearfully wrung his ears in shame, reminiscent of his once beloved elf Dobby, prompting Draco to sigh.
"It's all right, Tippy. It's a simple mistake," he reassured. Although once upon a time he was a frightful boy who loved to punish the house-elves, Draco had now grown out of that habit. Especially, after seeing the horrors of the Second Wizarding War, he tried to keep violence at a minimum. Some things never changed, however, since the Malfoy house-elves were still terribly melodramatic.
"What of the visitors, then?" he urged.
"A woman and a child, Master Draco," Tippy said, nervously crumpling the tips of his ears. "The woman claims urgency, master. Tippy has no choice but to call Master Draco."
The blond was admittedly curious. "Very well, bring them in."
Tippy disappeared with a pop at once and Draco waited on his armchair. He could hear Tippy's scuttling footsteps, and another pair that was quite familiar to him. As Tippy walked inside the study area and ushered the visitors inside, Draco was brought to his feet in disbelief, clearly not expecting them. Tippy then bowed down and left.
"G-Granger?"
Opposite him stood the bushy-haired Hermione Granger. The storm was unforgiving to her, drenching the poor woman from head to toe despite her heavy coat. In her arms was a child that looked exactly like her - the bushy hair, the nose, the lips - save from her red hair and blue eyes.
"Hello, Malfoy."
He stared, still too dumbstruck, and he did not know what to do. The last time he saw her was on the day of his trial with the Wizengamot. After that, Draco lived almost like a recluse, shutting himself from the Wizarding World with only some contact with his business partners, Theo, his mother and her healer.
Draco's throat ran dry, remembering the times when he was partnered with Granger during missions for the Order of the Phoenix. Despite the bad blood, McGonagall believed they were quite a pair. Draco was well-equipped with knowledge on the Dark Arts, and, combined with Hermione's magical prowess, they were a force to be reckoned with. He could not remember how many times she saved his life... the times when he saved her life.
It was... it was just too long and Draco did not know what to do.
"Err...may we sit?" she tentatively asked.
Her voice had snapped him off from his reverie as he awkwardly pointed at the couch opposite him. Granger dried both herself and the young girl, before journeying towards the offered couch. The redhead kept her big, sparkling blue eyes glued on him as her mother carried her to their seat.
Granger settled down and placed the child beside her. The little girl surveyed the room with rapt attention, and Draco could not keep his eyes off her. She looked eerily like the brunette sitting beside her. It was no doubt that she was Hermione's. The hair and eyes were trademarks of a Weasley, of course.
'Of course,' he thought, involuntarily sneering as he thought of Ron Weasley. Hermione got pregnant with the Weasel's child at the height of Voldemort's terror. They were amidst a war, desperate actions were bound to happen, but the two were clearly in love. Draco heard that they got married almost a month after Voldemort's defeat. Not that he cared, really. He never saw a glimpse of their child, however. Grimmauld Place was no place for an infant so he assumed she was sent somewhere away from the epicenter of chaos.
Hermione then cleared her throat, snapping him off yet again. His high cheekbones colored a little, realizing he had been staring too much.
"Mama, look," a soft, voice of a child filled the awkwardly silent room as she pointed at a small figurine of a Quidditch player on the table. "Birch! Tornadoes, Mama, look!"
Draco tried to suppress a smirk. Granger was notoriously uninterested in Quidditch. During their missions, they forged an acquaintance somehow to save each others lives when the need arose, and he perfectly remembered that she was clueless of the sport. Clearly, the girl did not inherit her mother's Quidditch disinterest.
"Hush now, Rose," Hermione said with a warning glance, grasping the child's overly excited hands. "What did I tell you before coming here?"
The child, Rose, looked ashamed and slumped back on her seat. "Sorry, Mama, I promised to be good," she whispered.
Her mother warmly smiled. "Good girl."
Draco cleared his throat, drawing Hermione's attention. "Would you like something to drink?" he amiably asked.
Hermione looked conflicted for a while, before curtly nodding in reply. "Tea will be all right," she said. She shot a look at her daughter and then frowned. "I don't mean to impose but may I request for some hot cocoa too? It was terribly cold outside. I don't want Rose to catch a cold."
Upon the mention of 'hot cocoa', Rose perked up. "With marshmallows on the top?" she hopefully asked.
Hermione sheepishly smiled at Draco. "With marshmallows on the top, yes?" she added.
Draco curtly nodded his head. "Tippy!" he called. The house-elf appeared at once.
"Master Draco called for Tippy?"
"Yes," he replied. "Bring some tea for Miss Granger and myself. And some hot cocoa for the girl."
"Don't forget the marshmallows, Mister!" Rose exclaimed.
"Rosie."
"Sorry, Mama," the girl quickly added with a toothy grin. "May I please have some marshmallows? Thank you."
Draco snorted. Trust Granger to raise a child with impeccable manners. The said witch gave him a small glare, which he returned with a smirk.
As his house-elf disappeared to prepare for the drinks, Draco draped an arm around his armchair and expectantly looked at his visitors. "Well?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow.
His curiosity peaked when Granger suddenly became uneasy.
"Look, Malfoy, I know we haven't seen each other for...what? Three years - ?"
"Four," Draco absentmindedly corrected. Hermione looked mildly surprised and the blond colored. "Anyway."
"Yes, anyway," Hermione slowly continued, still looking at him strangely. "I know we're not exactly friends, but we've been through a lot and I trust you. You've saved my life more than I could ever count."
He watched as she absentmindedly drew her daughter closer to her. She suddenly looked older... wearier. Perhaps being a single mother had tired her so. Also, being one of the top Aurors in the ministry, Hermione was always called to action. He wondered what had caused her sudden grief and patiently waited for her to continue.
At the same time, Tippy chose to come back with their drinks. Rose exclaimed her glee, jumping down from the couch to grab her hot beverage. "Thank you, Tippy!" she said, gently patting his balding head with a grin. If house-elves could blush, Draco knew that Tippy would be red right now.
"You're most welcome, young miss," he gushed out, preening from the compliment. He then bowed at Draco and disappeared once more.
"Sweetheart, be careful," Hermione reminded as Rose slowly went back to her seat, carefully clutching her drink.
As soon as she was satisfied that her daughter was settled, Hermione returned to Draco, a look of determination on her face. "Malfoy, I need a favor."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Go on," he urged.
"I..." She faltered and nervously looked at her blissfully oblivious daughter. "I... Oh blast it." She determinedly looked at Draco. "I need you to look after my daughter."
His eyebrows shot up high on his forehead, clearly in disbelief and waiting for a punchline. But, when none came and Hermione still expectantly looked at him, his eyebrows slowly drew together. "Excuse me?"
Hermione sighed. "Just... just for a while, please," she claimed, beseeching. "I... I beg you." As if pained with what she was about to do, she added, "You owe me."
He sneered. Of course he knew that. If it weren't for her, he and his mother would have been in Azkaban right now. Worst case scenario, they might have been driven insane by now. As his constant partner in their Order missions, it was Hermione who was most adamant that no, he was not Voldemort's follower anymore, that yes he defected and that yes, he worked under the Order of the Phoenix until Voldemort's demise.
"Please, Malfoy. You're the only one I can think of."
"And where are you going?" he demanded, crossing his arms.
She sighed and heavily leaned against the couch. "We're going to catch Ron's killer," she said, almost in a whisper, as she steadily refused to meet his eyes. "A reliable source told us he is hiding somewhere in China and..." She shifted her pained, dull eyes on him completely. "I have to catch him."
He regarded her statement silently. He could remember how the Wizarding World shook when it was announced that one-third of the Golden Trio died at the hands of a rogue Death Eater. He remembered the picture of a grieving Hermione, now a widow, clutching desperately to Harry Potter. It was a bleak day and although Draco never truly liked Weasley, even when he was partnered with him during missions, he was sombered with the thought that he died.
"Have you identified the killer?"
Hermione shot a look at Rose, who was unaware that they were talking about her dead father.
"Yes," she then replied. "Rodolphus Lestrange."
Unwittingly, he scowled. His demented aunt's husband was equally insane. He was not even surprised he had the gall to kill one-third of the symbol of hope in the Wizarding World.
"Why not give her to Potter?" he then asked, still thinking the idea of him taking care of a child was preposterous.
"He's coming with me," she reasoned. "Ron was his best friend too."
Draco could already feel a growing headache. "Then give her to her father's family, Granger," he countered matter-of-factly.
Hermione colored and looked away from him. "Well... we're not exactly on speaking terms," she confessed.
He frowned, not understanding what she meant. He remembered the boisterous Weasley bunch, and they would undoubtedly take care of Rose and give her all the love she deserved while her mother was away to fight bad guys.
But then, he remembered a certain article, and he cleared his throat. "Oh, err, right," he awkwardly replied.
It was a scandalous affair. Molly Weasley pointed her finger at Hermione, declaring to the whole Wizarding World through the infamous Rita Skeeter that it was her fault Ron was dead. He also remembered a similar news from the youngest Weasley. Draco was not entirely privy with the whole affair. Ronald Weasley's death was simply because of a Death Eater. Draco wondered if there were other reasons that led to his death.
"I've exhausted all the other alternatives, Malfoy," Hermione then said, rubbing a hand against her face. "Seeing that my parents are still in Australia and..." She trailed off, eyes gazing off into the distance. Draco frowned at the news that her parents were still obliviated somewhere in Australia. But then again, it was a powerful spell and reversing it might result to destroying the mind.
"Things are happening too fast and you... you're the only choice that I have," she finally whispered, and he stared at her in surprise. It was bewildering to think that she even considered him in the first place! She could have left her to some of their schoolmates or at least to people who would be more suitable to take care of a child. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand why she chose him.
"I don't know how to care of a child," he protested, glancing at Rose who was now playing with the marshmallows in her drink.
"Don't worry, I've thought this through," she said, retrieving a parchment from one of her pockets. "I've made instructions on how to take care of Rose. She can be... well." She fondly looked at her daughter as Draco scowled.
He peered at the parchment, eyes bulging out. "Merlin, Granger, are you writing a essay?"
Her eyes dangerously flashed and for a moment, Draco thought they were once again third years and she was about to punch his stupid, stupid mouth. "I'm leaving my daughter behind, Malfoy!" she snapped. Draco actually felt a little guilty.
Beside her, Rose looked up at her mother with a frown. "You okay, Mama?" she asked, completely abandoning her marshmallows and hot cocoa to crawl onto her lap. With her sticky fingers, she tried to smooth out the wrinkles on her forehead. "Are you mad, Mama? Are you sad?" She then craned her neck to look at Draco with utmost distrust.
'Great, she now thinks of you as an enemy, Draco Malfoy,' he mused with a roll of his eyes.
"I'm okay, Rosie. Mama's okay," Hermione said, oblivious of the stickiness of her daughter's fingers, and warmly smiled at her.
The sudden warmth was an odd sight for Draco. He was so used to stubborn, know-it-all Granger sticking her nose everywhere. But then again, he had never done anything to be the receiving end of such looks. 'Well, there were moments...' a traitorous voice whispered in his ear, and he hastily quashed it away. It would be of no use for such ridiculous feelings now.
He watched as Hermione fondly tucked Rose's stubborn curls behind her ears, softly laughing as said curls refused to stay behind her ears. It wasn't a surprise motherhood came naturally to her. Hermione had years of practice before by mothering both Potter and Weasley during their Hogwarts years.
"I'll seriously fuck up, Granger," he then warned.
"Language!" she reprimanded, comically covering both of Rose's ears.
Draco sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. "How long will you be gone?"
"At least a week."
He frowned. "And at most?"
"A month, I think."
Draco scowled. Silently, he rose from his seat and started to pace. "This is a huge favor, Granger," he warned. "A huge responsibility."
A mindless snort escaped from her lips. "Yeah, well, aren't you used to such responsibilities?" she offhandedly offered, alluding to the time when he was tasked by Voldemort to bring Death Eaters inside Hogwarts and to also kill the greatest wizard that had ever graced on the Wizarding World, save from Merlin himself. "You'll manage."
He grew thunderous and glared venomously at Hermione. "How dare you -"
He faltered as his eyes landed on Rose's frightened look. He tried to calm himself down, breathing through his nose, and waited for the anger to subside.
"I-I'm sorry," Hermione stammered, cheeks coloring with shame. "I was out of line, Malfoy."
Draco continued to glare at her, before sighing and plopping down on his chair. He was silent for a while and Granger patiently waited.
"I will be terrible at this, Granger."
"I know," she said, but Draco knew she did not mean it as an insult.
"I'm serious."
Hermione sighed. "Shockingly, Malfoy, I really do trust you."
"You're not going to leave until I relented, are you?"
"You know me too well, Malfoy."
"Yes, well, I was forced to watch your back for years, so of course I'm bound to get to know you better."
A soft smile appeared on Hermione's face. "Thank you," she earnestly said, warmth in her eyes.
Draco looked away, a lump growing in his throat. She had looked at him like that at times, especially during his bleakest days back when war was the norm, and he thought that weird, fuzzy, uncomfortable emotion she evoked from him would be gone after four years. Annoyingly, it had reawaken with a vengeance and he desperately pushed it at the deepest recesses of his heart.
"I haven't agreed yet," he grumbled.
"But you will, yes?" she asked, hopeful.
Draco sighed and warily looked at Hermione. "If something happens to your daughter, you know I'm not to be blamed completely, right?" he said with a scowl. "It wasn't my brilliant idea after all."
"I'll take most of the blame," she promised with that annoying, toothy smile of hers.
Draco released a monumental sigh and leaned against his chair. Glancing at the child, whose eyes were already dropping close, he finally gave Hermione a slight, stiff nod.
The smile on her face turned a little forlorn as she looked at her daughter. "Rose, sweetheart," she softly called, shaking her daughter awake. "I've got exciting news for you!"
The young girl's eyes glinted in curiosity as Hermione pulled out a small box from her pockets. With a tap of her wand, the box grew into a normal-sized luggage.
"You're going to have a sleepover," her mother declared, gesturing at the bag.
"Sleepover?" Rose asked, eyes widening in disbelief. "Really, Mama?"
"Yes, really," she said, pulling Rose onto her lap and pointing at the silent blond. "You're going to stay with him for a while since I got to go somewhere, okay. This nice man is Mal - Draco and he'll take care of you while I'm gone."
Rose's blue eyes connected with Draco's grey ones. Then, a small pout appeared on Rose's face.
"He's not nice."
Draco snorted in amusement while Hermione was torn between laughing and reprimanding her daughter. The latter won, however, as she gave Rose a stern stare.
"That wasn't very nice either," she said. Draco rolled his eyes as Hermione shot him and delighted smile. "What must you say?"
Rose released a petulant sigh, pout still in place. "I'm sorry, Draco," she said.
Hermione gave him an expectant look. He cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, "It's all right."
"Must you really go, Mama?" Rose asked, tears now welling in her eyes. "I wanna come with you."
"Sweetheart, we've talked about this," Hermione appeased. "Your Uncle Harry and I have to work for a while, okay? I'll buy you gifts and books and toys so you have to be a good girl."
Hermione stood up and placed Rose back on the ground.
"I have to go," she said, this time directing her words to Draco. "The international Portkey will activate in a few minutes."
"Good luck, Granger," he said with a curt nod.
Hermione then knelt down to level her eyes with her daughter. "Mama loves you, Rosie," she said, eyes dewy with emotion.
"I love you more," Rose tearfully said, flinging her arms around Hermione's neck.
Her mother chuckled and placed a kiss on her red, bushy hair. "I love you most," she whispered.
Draco looked away, feeling like an intruder at this intimate moment between mother and child. His parents were not openly affectionate to him when he was younger. To see this new, foreign interaction made him uncomfortable.
"I must go," Hermione said, reluctantly prying the girl's arms and standing up. "Behave, Rose. Don't give Draco a hard time."
Her watery eyes sought his and she smiled. "Thank you, Malfoy," she said.
Rose ran towards the door as Hermione strode out from his study. But then, he heard a distinct pop and knew she had already Disapparated.
Draco watched as Rose stood at the door for a few minutes, her back facing him. And then, slowly, she turned around and wordlessly looked at him.
For a few minutes, they just stared at each other. She looked too much like Hermione, but her blue eyes was the exact same shade of her father's; it made him a little sick. The reality of the situation then came crashing down to him and he panicked. How was he to take care of a child when he was already busy with the Malfoy business and tending to his ailing mother? This was also Granger's child, and he was scared of fucking up if he still wanted to see the light of the day.
"Tippy!"
The house-elf appeared immediately and bowed. "Master Draco, what can Tippy do?"
"Show the little miss to the spare guest room beside my own," he ordered, gesturing at the still, silent child. "You must attend to her needs."
"Yes, Master Draco."
With a snap of Tippy's fingers, her trunk vanished. "Come, Young Miss," Tippy meekly called, ushering her out. "I will show you to your room."
Draco watched with amusement as Rose reached out for Tippy's hand and held it. Judging from the squeak from his house-elf, he knew Tippy was surprised too.
Before they could completely disappear from his room, Rose craned her neck and stared at Draco with a weird look on her face.
Once they were gone, Draco plopped down on his chair and sighed. He made a mental note to call Theo and discuss his newfound responsibility with him. Probably drink himself to oblivion, too, still in denial that he now was an official babysitter to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley's child.