Short: The Christmas Wish
I was given the opportunity to be a pinch-hitter for the 2012 D/Hr Advent. Here is the story that I wrote for the fest.
Title: The Christmas Wish
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione
Genre: Drama
When: Post Deathly Hallows, EWE
Word Count: 4,960
Prompt: naughty or nice
For: D/Hr Advent 2012 @ dhr_advent
Warnings: n/a
Summary:
Dear Father Christmas,
I don’t want any toys this year. I just want a daddy like all of my classmates.
He doesn't have to be my real daddy. He just has to love mummy and me.
Sincerely,
Gwendolyn Granger
The Christmas Wish
Dear Father Christmas,
I don’t want any toys this year. I just want a daddy like all of my classmates.
He doesn’t have to be my real daddy. He just has to love mummy and me.
Sincerely,
Gwendolyn Granger
----
Hermione Granger closed her eyes and sighed as she set her daughter’s letter down on the counter. She’d known this day was coming, but she’d always thought she’d have more warning. This had come out of nowhere, though.
What was she supposed to do now? Her daughter wanted the one thing she couldn’t give her.
“Maybe it’s time to go back,” her mum said, coming into the room.
“You know I can’t go back to England, mum.”
“You don’t have to stay,” her mum replied. “Go for Christmas. I know Harry and Ron have invited you again. Spend time with the Weasley family and maybe meet with Gwen’s dad.”
Hermione felt anger surge through her body at the mention of him.
“Now before you get yourself all worked up, just hear me out,” her mum said. “She is nine-years-old, Hermione, and in two years she will be away at school most of the year. Do you really want to be alone in your parents’ house?”
“I could teach her magic at home.”
“And deprive her of the magic of Hogwarts?”
“She’s not going to Hogwarts,” Hermione said, firmly. “She’ll go to school here in Australia. At -”
“The Wizarding school that you worked at for two years before quitting because you didn’t approve of their teaching methods?” her mother cut her off.
“I can’t send her to Hogwarts,” Hermione said, sighing. “What if he has more kids and they go to Hogwarts?”
“Then it would be a perfect way for her to meet her siblings,” her mum stated.
“Mum, I -”
“Hermione, dear, your father and I know why you left London,” her mum said, softly. “You needed a change of scenery and to mend your heart. It was what you needed, but now it’s time to think about your daughter and what she needs.”
“But what if he hurts her?” Hermione asked, tears pooling in her eyes.
“Then he is an idiot,” her mum stated.
Hermione managed a weak smile and her mum pulled her into a hug.
“If it doesn’t work out, you can come home and say I told you so,” her mum said, smoothing her hair.
----
During the Christmas season, Draco Malfoy avoided the crowded streets of both Muggle and Wizarding London. The hustle and bustle of people buying gifts for family and friends only served as a painful reminder of what he didn’t have.
When he had married Astoria Greengrass eight years ago, he’d envisioned them having a child right away (naturally a son) but nothing had gone as he’d planned. Their union had been arranged by their fathers as a way to keep two pureblood families pure. It didn’t matter to their fathers that they hardly knew each other nor that they loved other people.
Her wizard of choice, he later found out, was a halfbloodhalf-blood. The night she’d informed him that she was leaving him, she’d also revealed that the only reason she’d agreed to marry him in the first place was so she would get her inheritance on her twenty-first birthday. She’d taken nearly half of the gold from their shared Gringotts vault and fled the country with her boyfriend.
He’d been left wifeless, childless and pitied by the Wizarding population when word got out about Astoria’s actions. His parents had been furious over the broken contract and her parents had found themselves shunned by the whole of pureblood society.
He had sought solitude in the form of the Muggle flat that he’d purchased shortly before his and Astoria’s engagement had been gone public. While being in the two-bedroom flat took his mind off his ex-wife, it brought back painful memories of the witch he’d bought the place for.
Hermione.
She’d been a happy accident. What had started as a way to let off steam as they prepared for N.E.W.T.s had carried into the summer. When they were together, they forgot about their differences and why they would never work out.
Then their jobs at the ministry gave them excuses to see each other without questions being raised. The Minister even praised them for their ability to work together despite their differences. Nobody, not even their closest friends, had suspected a thing.
Ever the pessimist, Draco had known something would go wrong eventually. It had happened the night they’d celebrated the second anniversary of their first hookup with dinner and sex at a fancy Muggle hotel.
“I love you, Draco.”
She’d said the words as they were recovering from their first round and he hadn’t known what to say. Love wasn’t part of the world he grew up in; it was the emotion that messed with people’s heads and made them do stupid things.
Unable to say the words, even without truly meaning them, he’d kissed her. She’d responded enthusiastically and it hadn’t been said again; not that they’d had much time together after that. His marriage to Astoria had already been arranged by that point.
Following their anniversary, he’d purchased the flat for her to live in and him to visit whenever he wanted to. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but it’d been that damn brain-scrambling emotion that had made him ask her to be his mistress during a row over his impending nuptials. She’d been offended by the suggestion and had slapped him across the face.
That was the last time he’d seen her. He’d opted to let her cool down for a couple days before going to see her, but when he got to her flat, her roommate, Ginny Weasley, had informed him that she’d moved. The fiery ginger had gone off on him for nearly half an hour before talking herself hoarse, finally allowing him to make his escape.
He’d married Astoria in a grand July wedding that rivaled that of the most recent Muggle royal wedding. He’d worn a forced smile the entire time and it wasn’t until he’d been in the privacy of his private bedroom at the home he shared with Astoria’s that his true feelings had came out.
He loved Hermione and he’d lost her.
He’d forced himself to accept that fact until after he and Astoria had divorced after only four years of marriage. He’d turned to Pansy Parkinson, who’d just married Ron Weasley, in hopes that she’d be able to help him find Hermione, but she’d refused to get involved.
Pansy’s stance on Hermione had remained the same ever since. Draco didn’t see her very much, save for her parents’ annual Christmas party, but occasionally, he would catch her looking at him with pity in her eyes. Seeing that look on her face was even worse than seeing it on the faces of strangers.
Despite his lack of Christmas merriment, he’d sent back his RSVP the day the invitation came for the Parkinsons’ party. It was the one social engagement he went to every year; he attended more out of respect for the Parkinsons’ than anything else.
On the night of the event, he put on his best dress robes and apparated to the Parkinsons’ lakeside manor. A hired serviceman greeted him and took his traveling cloak. He walked down the grand staircase and into the ballroom.
After greeting the hosts, he made his way around the ballroom, exchanging pleasantries with old family friends and acquaintances while snacking on hors d'oeuvres and sipping Elf wine.
He was talking to his parents when he felt his gut tighten. It was as if an invisible string pulled his eyes in the direction of the staircase, where he saw a witch dressed in green dress robes descending the stairs. Despite the distance, he knew exactly who she was.
Hermione had returned.
----
The Parkinsons’ party was the last place she wanted to be, but Harry and Ginny had insisted she attend come with them. Her claim that she had nothing to wear had been quieted with loans from Pansy and Ginny. Even her own daughter had told her to go.
Considering her a flight risk, Harry had even made her side-along apparate with him to the Parkinsons’ manor. He’d then forced her to go down the stairs into the ballroom in front of himself and Ginny.
After being introduced to Pansy’s family, Hermione kept her head low, not wanting to be recognized, as she followed Harry and Ginny to one of the tables bordering the dance floor. The Parkinsons’ annual Christmas ball was exactly the type of party that he and his wife would attend and they were the last people she wanted to see.
Taking a seat, she slouched down as far as she could in the chair. She heard Ginny snicker from above her, but ignored her friend. She knew it was childish, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place and they couldn’t make her socialize.
Her plan had worked for all of fifteen minutes before Ron appeared at the table and pulled her out to the dance floor. He weaved them between dancing couples until they reached the center.
“I hate you, you know,” she muttered as he placed his hand on her lower back.
“No, you don’t,” he replied, chuckling.
As they danced, she allowed her eyes to move around the floor, recognizing a few people, but most of the witches and wizards in attendance were her parents’ age.
Then she saw him.
Three couples separated them, but she could clearly see that he was dancing with Pansy. Surely, it had to be a coincidence; Ron and Pansy didn’t know anything about her past with him.
She looked up at Ron and saw him smiling down at her.
“She left him, you know,” he said, softly. “Draco’s wife, I mean.”
Hermione ignored him, hoping he’d take the hint and stop talking.
“She left him for her lover,” Ron continued. “Four years ago.”
Served him right, she thought as she stole another glance at Draco. She felt her blood run cold when she saw him looking back at her. Her body stiffened and it was several seconds before she could move again. She jerked away from Ron and fled the dance floor.
She didn’t stop until she’d reached an empty corridor. Her heart raced as she leaned against a cold window. She shouldn’t have come tonight. She never should she have come back to England. She should have told Harry and Ron that if they wanted to see her and Gwen, they’d have to visit them in Australia.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching until it was too late. The dark corridor she’d hidden herself in was suddenly full of light as four people joined her-Harry, Ron, Ginny and Pansy.
“Are you alright?” Ginny asked, walking over to her and sliding a comforting arm around her waist.
Hermione nodded, slowly.
Ginny was the only one who knew all of the details of her affair and the only one who knew he was Gwen’s father. She wasn’t sure who Ron and Harry thought her father was, but they hadn’t asked and she hadn’t offered the information.
“You need to tell him, Hermione,” Harry’s voice broke the silence. “He needs to know.”
Heart pounding loudly, Hermione looked at Ginny; surely her best friend hadn’t told him all of her secrets.
“I didn’t say anything,” Ginny said and Hermione could see the truth in her eyes.
“But how?” Hermione asked.
“That would be my doing,” Pansy said, softly.
Hermione listened in shock as Pansy revealed that she’d recognized Malfoy-like features in a photo of Gwen that Harry and Ginny had had on their refrigerator. When she’d mentioned the likeness to the others, Harry and Ron had laughed, but Ginny had remained silent.
“I told them that you had your reasons for not telling them who Gwen’s father was and that they weren’t allowed to bring it up again.” Ginny finished the story.
“But we did the math and figured out that you would’ve had to have gotten pregnant just before you moved to Australia,” Harry said.
Hermione felt Ginny squeeze her hand and knew that her friend was remembering the day she’d come home to their flat crying hysterically.
A couple hours later, Hermione found herself in the guestroom at Harry and Ginny’s house with Gwen softly snoring next to her. She would do anything for her daughter, even if that meant she had to talk to Draco.
She wasn’t sure when she’d finally fallen asleep, but when she woke up the next morning the clock next to the bed read 11:30. At first she thought it was the weak winter sunrays peeking through the curtains that had awoken her, but then she heard loud voices.
Climbing out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and quietly left the room. She tiptoed down the hallway to the half wall that overlooked the entryway, where the loud voices were coming from. Not wanting to be seen, she crouched down and listened.
“I want to see Hermione,” she heard Draco say.
“Not like this,” Harry responded. “And not today.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” Draco retorted.
“It is when we have Hermione’s best interest in mind,” Ron said, firmly.
“Pansy,” Draco said, desperately. “Help me.”
“I am not getting involved in this,” she replied.
“Please,” he begged. “Can’t one of you go ask Hermione if she’ll talk to me?”
“Why do you want to talk to my mummy?”
Hermione’s heart stopped at the sound of her daughter’s voice.
Slowly, she raised herself up and peered down into the entryway. The four adults gathered there were all staring at her little girl.
“Let’s go back in the kitchen, Gwen,” Pansy said, walking over and taking her by the hand. “You can help me feed Margaret her cereal.”
As Pansy led Gwen from the room, Hermione sunk back down and groaned silently. When she’d decided to talk to Draco last night, she’d thought she’d have a couple days to figure out what she was going to say, but clearly the time had come.
Crawling away from the half wall, she stood up where her presence wouldn’t be noticed immediately. She pulled the sash on her dressing gown tightly and took a deep breath before walking to where she’d been hiding a moment before and said, “I’ll talk to you after I’ve gotten dressed.”
She turned and walked to her room before Draco, Harry or Ron could say anything. Part of her wanted to take her time getting ready, but the other part of her just wanted to get it done and over with.
Some five minutes later, she left her room and made her way to the stairs. As she reached the bottom, she found the three wizards where exactly where she’d left them.
“You don’t have to do this today,” Harry said to her.
“I need to,” she replied. “Can we go in your study?”
He nodded mutely and made to follow her, but she shook her head.
“I want to talk to him alone.”
“We’ll wait outside the room,” Ron said. “Call if you need us.”
She led Draco into Harry’s study and closed the door.
“How old is your daughter?”
She’d hoped they’d start with the basic pleasantries, but then again, Draco had always been a business first wizard.
“She turned eight in October,” she replied.
She could see the gears working in his head and knew he was counting months to figure out when she’d gotten pregnant: February.
She saw recognition flash in his eyes and then saw him swallow hard. “Am I- Do I- Who’s her father?” he asked.
He knew he was; she could see it in his eyes. He just wanted her to confirm it.
She nodded her head as she tried to find the words to tell him that yes, he was Gwen’s father, but her mind refused to cooperate. “I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Her admission seemed to knock the wind out of him. He opened and closed his mouth several times to speak, but words seemed to fail him. Finally, he gave her a look of deepest loathing combined with resentment, hurt, confusion and disbelief before he stormed out of the study.
A few seconds later, she flinched at the sound of the front door being slammed closed.
Of all the possible reactions he could have had, she’d feared this one the most. She could get over the fact that he’d chosen a loveless, pureblood marriage over staying with her, but now he’d made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with their innocent daughter either.
----
He walked for hours without a clear destination or even knowing where he was. He was livid that she’d kept their child hidden from him for eight years. She hadn’t even given him the option of having a relationship with the girl; she’d made the decision for him.
It was their daughter that had him wandering aimlessly, however. She had Hermione’s curls and large front teeth, his gray eyes and a hint of his pointed features, but other than that she appeared to be a perfect combination of the two of them with her golden blonde curls and her light coloring sprinkled with freckles.
Pride swelled in his heart, pushing aside the anger and regret.
How had this happened? Why had this happened?
“I won’t be your mistress,” Hermione’s words from that night so long ago came to his mind. “You can either have me or her, but you cannot have both.”
He’d chosen Astoria; he hadn’t had a choice. He’d tried to tell Hermione that, but it had fallen upon deaf ears. The second he’d said Astoria, she’d closed herself to him.
Overcome with a new set of emotions, he sank onto a bench and stared out blankly in front of him.
How had she felt upon learning she was pregnant with his child? Scared? Heartbroken? Alone? He reckoned it was a mix of all three.
What would he have done had she told him? He supposed the Greengrass’ would’ve called off the wedding, which would’ve led to the shunning of the Malfoys’ in pureblood society.
He laughed bitterly. The marriage that his father and Mr. Greengrass had arranged to strengthen the Wizarding world’s view of their families had done exactly the opposite. Astoria and her husband were making half-blood babies and it turned out that he himself was the father of a half-blood.
As his restless mind returned to Hermione and their secret child, he conceded that he couldn’t blame her for staying away while he and Astoria were married. But why hadn’t she come back after he’d gotten divorced? Surely someone one would’ve mentioned it to her in passing.
He knew Ginny had known about his and Hermione’s affair, but he reckoned she was set on protecting Hermione and Gwen. Harry, Ron and Pansy were privy to the fact that Gwen was his daughter, but he wasn’t sure how much they knew. He knew Harry and Ron were too loyal not to protect Hermione, but what about Pansy? Hadn’t she been his friend first?
Then he recalled a conversation he’d had with her shortly after his divorce had become final and she’d married Ron.
“If I learned something that I thought might hurt you, would you want to know?” She’d asked.
At the time, he’d assumed she was been talking about Astoria, but now he wondered if she’d been talking about Gwen.
He buried his face in his hands and sighed. Normally, Pansy was the person he went to when he needed to talk, but after his actions at the Potters’ house, he knew he wouldn’t be welcome. He knew he shouldn’t have walked out like that, but he hadn’t been able to think straight. His body had gone into fight or flight and he’d fled.
Rising to his feet, he made his way to an empty alley and then disapparated, arriving just outside the gates of his parents’ manor. He didn’t necessarily want to tell them yet, but he didn’t want them to find out from someone else.
It wasn’t until he’d let himself into the house that he realized that it was dinnertime. Their house elf, Bitsy, took his traveling cloak as he went into the dining room where his parents sat on either end of a long table.
“Draco,” his mother greeted him with a pleasant smile. “How are you, dear?”
“I’m fine,” he replied. “My apologies for interrupting your dinner.”
“Is everything alright, Draco?” his father asked.
“Yes and no,” Draco replied. “It can wait until after you’ve finished eating, though. Do you mind if I use the pensieve?”
His father nodded and Draco left the dining room. He went into the family library and opened the cupboard where the pensieve was kept. He pulled the memory from earlier from his mind and placed it inside. Then he leaned forward and allowed himself to sink into the memory.
He ignored the forms of himself, Pansy, Harry and Ron as they argued and waited for his daughter to make her appearance. He was surprised that she’d slipped out of the kitchen much sooner than they’d realized.
She certainly had her mum’s curiosity.
He watched her for several minutes as she surveyed the scene before her trying to make sense of it all.
What was going on in her head? He wondered.
Then he heard himself ask for someone, anyone, to ask Hermione to speak to him.
Truly her mother’s daughter, Gwen had volunteered and he swore he saw her arm flinch as if she was resisting the urge to raise her hand.
Not wanting to experience the scene with Hermione again, he pulled himself from the memory and was surprised to find his parents standing behind him.
“Your mother was too worried to eat,” his father said simply.
“I think you should sit down,” Draco said. He waited for them to sit down before he launched into a brief overview of his relationship with Hermione: how it started, how it ended, and, finally, with the news that he was a father.
His own father’s face was stony at the end of the tale, but his mother’s cheeks were tearstained.
“Do you have a photograph of my granddaughter?” she asked.
Draco started to shake his head, but stopped when he remembered the memory in the pensieve.
“I have something better,” he said, stepping aside.
He stayed in the room while his mother and his father, though begrudgingly, entered his memory. While he waited for them to return, he sat down and considered his options.
He knew that he didn’t want to lose Gwen again. She was his daughter and he wanted a chance to get to know her. He also knew that his heart belonged to Hermione, even after the truth had come out. He wanted nothing more than to do what he should have done nine years ago.
By the time his parents had returned from the memory, his father noticeably softened by the sight of his granddaughter, Draco knew what he was going to do.
“Mother, father, nine years ago, you picked the woman I married,” he said. “That marriage failed and now I plan to marry the witch I should have married then. I plan to ask Hermione to marry me and create a family for my daughter.”
His mother’s eyes filled with more tears and his father nodded, wordlessly giving his blessing to the union.
Knowing that his actions earlier in the day would not have been received well, Draco sent a letter to Pansy, asking for her help in arranging a meeting between him, Hermione and Gwen.
It took two days, but he finally got a reply from Hermione, asking him to meet her and Gwen at a Muggle park near Harry and Ginny’s home that afternoon.
He arrived half an hour before their scheduled meeting and waited for her on a bench, wringing his hands nervously as he waited. In a half hour’s time, he would be formally introduced to his daughter.
As he sat waiting, he noticed small families arriving at the park and after a few minutes he saw that they were nearly all gingers. Then he caught one shooting a look in his direction and knew that the Weasley family had come to protect their own.
He was both frustrated by this and comforted by it. He knew the Weasley family loved Hermione and treated her as one of their own, but for them to love his daughter unconditionally, especially now that they all knew she was a Malfoy, touched him. It was clear to him that even though she’d been missing the love of a father, she’d had several aunts, uncles and cousins who loved her.
The hairs on the back of his neck alerted him to Hermione’s presence before he could see her. Turning around, he saw her walking towards him, her hand clamped tightly around Gwen’s. As he stood, his eyes fell to his daughter and he smiled at the sight of a large grin upon her face.
When only a few feet separated them, she broke free of her mum’s hand and ran towards him. She threw her arms around his middle and buried her face in his winter coat. Awkwardly, he hugged her back and looked at Hermione, who kept her distance.
“Gwen, why don’t you go play,” Hermione suggested.
With her arms still wrapped around him, their daughter looked up and frowned at her.
“Gwendolyn,” Hermione said, firmly. “Go.”
Their daughter nodded and walked to the playground, turning back every now and then to make sure he was still there.
“I want to spend Christmas with her,” he said. “And you as well, of course.”
“We have plans with the Weasleys’,” she replied.
“My parents want to meet her,” he said. “And she’s my daughter, too, Hermione. Surely, the Weasleys’ can understand that.”
He saw her cross her arms over her chest and knew she hadn’t forgiven him for the other day.
“I shouldn’t have left like that,” he said. “I’d come over hoping to talk to you and instead found out that I’d been a father for nearly a decade without knowing it. I felt so completely overwhelmed and mad at you for keeping her from me that I just couldn’t think straight.”
He told her about wandering aimlessly for hours and how he’d ended up at his parents’ manor. He’d planned on waiting until Christmas day to tell her he wanted to marry her, but as they sat there watching their daughter play, a few moments later, he decided he’d done enough waiting.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a black velvet box.
“Put that away,” Hermione hissed from beside him.
“I want to marry you, Hermione,” he said. “I want us to be a family.”
“It’s too late for us, Draco,” she replied. “We had our chance a long time ago.”
“Can you honestly say you don’t love me anymore?”
“Me loving you was never the issue.”
“Just because I couldn’t say the words, doesn’t mean I didn’t feel that strongly for you,” he said. “I might have been slow when it came to expressing my feelings for you, but you have to remember how I grew up. Emotions were something to be kept to yourself.”
She looked unconvinced.
Draco drew a deep breath and said, “Hermione Granger, I love you. I’ve loved you for the last eight years and probably longer than that. I love our daughter and I want us to be a family. Will you -”
“I’m still not going to marry you,” she cut him off. “We haven’t spoken in eight years, Draco. We’ve grown up and we hardly know each other and that is no way to start a marriage.”
“So let’s get to know each other.”
“How can we do that?” She asked. “Gwen and I live in Australia.”
She was testing him, he could tell, but at that moment he was desperate. He wanted to be near his daughter and he wanted Hermione. If that meant he’d be moving to Australia then so be it.
“I’ve heard Australia is nice,” he said, casually. “I reckon a December day spent on the beach is rather splendid.”
Less than twenty four hours later, Draco, Hermione and Gwen arrived at his parents’ manor for Christmas Eve dinner.
As they entered the manor, he was shocked to find the usually cold house had undergone a Christmas makeover. His mother and father stood in front of a large Christmas tree, tears in his mother’s eyes again as she laid eyes on her granddaughter.
No introductions were needed as his daughter ran across the room and wrapped her grandparents in a hug. He chuckled softly at the look on his father’s face and knew that Gwen was going to change all of their lives.
He stole a glance at Hermione and saw that she too was crying. One way or another, he would convince her to marry him.
----
Dear Father Christmas,
Thank you for bringing my real daddy to me last year! Mummy says that you already know that they got married and we all moved back to England.
This year I have two wishes.
1) I want nana and pops to move to England.
2) I want to have a baby brother or sister.
Thank you in advance,
Gwendolyn Malfoy
Title: The Christmas Wish
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione
Genre: Drama
When: Post Deathly Hallows, EWE
Word Count: 4,960
Prompt: naughty or nice
For: D/Hr Advent 2012 @ dhr_advent
Warnings: n/a
Summary:
Dear Father Christmas,
I don’t want any toys this year. I just want a daddy like all of my classmates.
He doesn't have to be my real daddy. He just has to love mummy and me.
Sincerely,
Gwendolyn Granger
The Christmas Wish
Dear Father Christmas,
I don’t want any toys this year. I just want a daddy like all of my classmates.
He doesn’t have to be my real daddy. He just has to love mummy and me.
Sincerely,
Gwendolyn Granger
----
Hermione Granger closed her eyes and sighed as she set her daughter’s letter down on the counter. She’d known this day was coming, but she’d always thought she’d have more warning. This had come out of nowhere, though.
What was she supposed to do now? Her daughter wanted the one thing she couldn’t give her.
“Maybe it’s time to go back,” her mum said, coming into the room.
“You know I can’t go back to England, mum.”
“You don’t have to stay,” her mum replied. “Go for Christmas. I know Harry and Ron have invited you again. Spend time with the Weasley family and maybe meet with Gwen’s dad.”
Hermione felt anger surge through her body at the mention of him.
“Now before you get yourself all worked up, just hear me out,” her mum said. “She is nine-years-old, Hermione, and in two years she will be away at school most of the year. Do you really want to be alone in your parents’ house?”
“I could teach her magic at home.”
“And deprive her of the magic of Hogwarts?”
“She’s not going to Hogwarts,” Hermione said, firmly. “She’ll go to school here in Australia. At -”
“The Wizarding school that you worked at for two years before quitting because you didn’t approve of their teaching methods?” her mother cut her off.
“I can’t send her to Hogwarts,” Hermione said, sighing. “What if he has more kids and they go to Hogwarts?”
“Then it would be a perfect way for her to meet her siblings,” her mum stated.
“Mum, I -”
“Hermione, dear, your father and I know why you left London,” her mum said, softly. “You needed a change of scenery and to mend your heart. It was what you needed, but now it’s time to think about your daughter and what she needs.”
“But what if he hurts her?” Hermione asked, tears pooling in her eyes.
“Then he is an idiot,” her mum stated.
Hermione managed a weak smile and her mum pulled her into a hug.
“If it doesn’t work out, you can come home and say I told you so,” her mum said, smoothing her hair.
----
During the Christmas season, Draco Malfoy avoided the crowded streets of both Muggle and Wizarding London. The hustle and bustle of people buying gifts for family and friends only served as a painful reminder of what he didn’t have.
When he had married Astoria Greengrass eight years ago, he’d envisioned them having a child right away (naturally a son) but nothing had gone as he’d planned. Their union had been arranged by their fathers as a way to keep two pureblood families pure. It didn’t matter to their fathers that they hardly knew each other nor that they loved other people.
Her wizard of choice, he later found out, was a halfbloodhalf-blood. The night she’d informed him that she was leaving him, she’d also revealed that the only reason she’d agreed to marry him in the first place was so she would get her inheritance on her twenty-first birthday. She’d taken nearly half of the gold from their shared Gringotts vault and fled the country with her boyfriend.
He’d been left wifeless, childless and pitied by the Wizarding population when word got out about Astoria’s actions. His parents had been furious over the broken contract and her parents had found themselves shunned by the whole of pureblood society.
He had sought solitude in the form of the Muggle flat that he’d purchased shortly before his and Astoria’s engagement had been gone public. While being in the two-bedroom flat took his mind off his ex-wife, it brought back painful memories of the witch he’d bought the place for.
Hermione.
She’d been a happy accident. What had started as a way to let off steam as they prepared for N.E.W.T.s had carried into the summer. When they were together, they forgot about their differences and why they would never work out.
Then their jobs at the ministry gave them excuses to see each other without questions being raised. The Minister even praised them for their ability to work together despite their differences. Nobody, not even their closest friends, had suspected a thing.
Ever the pessimist, Draco had known something would go wrong eventually. It had happened the night they’d celebrated the second anniversary of their first hookup with dinner and sex at a fancy Muggle hotel.
“I love you, Draco.”
She’d said the words as they were recovering from their first round and he hadn’t known what to say. Love wasn’t part of the world he grew up in; it was the emotion that messed with people’s heads and made them do stupid things.
Unable to say the words, even without truly meaning them, he’d kissed her. She’d responded enthusiastically and it hadn’t been said again; not that they’d had much time together after that. His marriage to Astoria had already been arranged by that point.
Following their anniversary, he’d purchased the flat for her to live in and him to visit whenever he wanted to. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but it’d been that damn brain-scrambling emotion that had made him ask her to be his mistress during a row over his impending nuptials. She’d been offended by the suggestion and had slapped him across the face.
That was the last time he’d seen her. He’d opted to let her cool down for a couple days before going to see her, but when he got to her flat, her roommate, Ginny Weasley, had informed him that she’d moved. The fiery ginger had gone off on him for nearly half an hour before talking herself hoarse, finally allowing him to make his escape.
He’d married Astoria in a grand July wedding that rivaled that of the most recent Muggle royal wedding. He’d worn a forced smile the entire time and it wasn’t until he’d been in the privacy of his private bedroom at the home he shared with Astoria’s that his true feelings had came out.
He loved Hermione and he’d lost her.
He’d forced himself to accept that fact until after he and Astoria had divorced after only four years of marriage. He’d turned to Pansy Parkinson, who’d just married Ron Weasley, in hopes that she’d be able to help him find Hermione, but she’d refused to get involved.
Pansy’s stance on Hermione had remained the same ever since. Draco didn’t see her very much, save for her parents’ annual Christmas party, but occasionally, he would catch her looking at him with pity in her eyes. Seeing that look on her face was even worse than seeing it on the faces of strangers.
Despite his lack of Christmas merriment, he’d sent back his RSVP the day the invitation came for the Parkinsons’ party. It was the one social engagement he went to every year; he attended more out of respect for the Parkinsons’ than anything else.
On the night of the event, he put on his best dress robes and apparated to the Parkinsons’ lakeside manor. A hired serviceman greeted him and took his traveling cloak. He walked down the grand staircase and into the ballroom.
After greeting the hosts, he made his way around the ballroom, exchanging pleasantries with old family friends and acquaintances while snacking on hors d'oeuvres and sipping Elf wine.
He was talking to his parents when he felt his gut tighten. It was as if an invisible string pulled his eyes in the direction of the staircase, where he saw a witch dressed in green dress robes descending the stairs. Despite the distance, he knew exactly who she was.
Hermione had returned.
----
The Parkinsons’ party was the last place she wanted to be, but Harry and Ginny had insisted she attend come with them. Her claim that she had nothing to wear had been quieted with loans from Pansy and Ginny. Even her own daughter had told her to go.
Considering her a flight risk, Harry had even made her side-along apparate with him to the Parkinsons’ manor. He’d then forced her to go down the stairs into the ballroom in front of himself and Ginny.
After being introduced to Pansy’s family, Hermione kept her head low, not wanting to be recognized, as she followed Harry and Ginny to one of the tables bordering the dance floor. The Parkinsons’ annual Christmas ball was exactly the type of party that he and his wife would attend and they were the last people she wanted to see.
Taking a seat, she slouched down as far as she could in the chair. She heard Ginny snicker from above her, but ignored her friend. She knew it was childish, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place and they couldn’t make her socialize.
Her plan had worked for all of fifteen minutes before Ron appeared at the table and pulled her out to the dance floor. He weaved them between dancing couples until they reached the center.
“I hate you, you know,” she muttered as he placed his hand on her lower back.
“No, you don’t,” he replied, chuckling.
As they danced, she allowed her eyes to move around the floor, recognizing a few people, but most of the witches and wizards in attendance were her parents’ age.
Then she saw him.
Three couples separated them, but she could clearly see that he was dancing with Pansy. Surely, it had to be a coincidence; Ron and Pansy didn’t know anything about her past with him.
She looked up at Ron and saw him smiling down at her.
“She left him, you know,” he said, softly. “Draco’s wife, I mean.”
Hermione ignored him, hoping he’d take the hint and stop talking.
“She left him for her lover,” Ron continued. “Four years ago.”
Served him right, she thought as she stole another glance at Draco. She felt her blood run cold when she saw him looking back at her. Her body stiffened and it was several seconds before she could move again. She jerked away from Ron and fled the dance floor.
She didn’t stop until she’d reached an empty corridor. Her heart raced as she leaned against a cold window. She shouldn’t have come tonight. She never should she have come back to England. She should have told Harry and Ron that if they wanted to see her and Gwen, they’d have to visit them in Australia.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching until it was too late. The dark corridor she’d hidden herself in was suddenly full of light as four people joined her-Harry, Ron, Ginny and Pansy.
“Are you alright?” Ginny asked, walking over to her and sliding a comforting arm around her waist.
Hermione nodded, slowly.
Ginny was the only one who knew all of the details of her affair and the only one who knew he was Gwen’s father. She wasn’t sure who Ron and Harry thought her father was, but they hadn’t asked and she hadn’t offered the information.
“You need to tell him, Hermione,” Harry’s voice broke the silence. “He needs to know.”
Heart pounding loudly, Hermione looked at Ginny; surely her best friend hadn’t told him all of her secrets.
“I didn’t say anything,” Ginny said and Hermione could see the truth in her eyes.
“But how?” Hermione asked.
“That would be my doing,” Pansy said, softly.
Hermione listened in shock as Pansy revealed that she’d recognized Malfoy-like features in a photo of Gwen that Harry and Ginny had had on their refrigerator. When she’d mentioned the likeness to the others, Harry and Ron had laughed, but Ginny had remained silent.
“I told them that you had your reasons for not telling them who Gwen’s father was and that they weren’t allowed to bring it up again.” Ginny finished the story.
“But we did the math and figured out that you would’ve had to have gotten pregnant just before you moved to Australia,” Harry said.
Hermione felt Ginny squeeze her hand and knew that her friend was remembering the day she’d come home to their flat crying hysterically.
A couple hours later, Hermione found herself in the guestroom at Harry and Ginny’s house with Gwen softly snoring next to her. She would do anything for her daughter, even if that meant she had to talk to Draco.
She wasn’t sure when she’d finally fallen asleep, but when she woke up the next morning the clock next to the bed read 11:30. At first she thought it was the weak winter sunrays peeking through the curtains that had awoken her, but then she heard loud voices.
Climbing out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and quietly left the room. She tiptoed down the hallway to the half wall that overlooked the entryway, where the loud voices were coming from. Not wanting to be seen, she crouched down and listened.
“I want to see Hermione,” she heard Draco say.
“Not like this,” Harry responded. “And not today.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” Draco retorted.
“It is when we have Hermione’s best interest in mind,” Ron said, firmly.
“Pansy,” Draco said, desperately. “Help me.”
“I am not getting involved in this,” she replied.
“Please,” he begged. “Can’t one of you go ask Hermione if she’ll talk to me?”
“Why do you want to talk to my mummy?”
Hermione’s heart stopped at the sound of her daughter’s voice.
Slowly, she raised herself up and peered down into the entryway. The four adults gathered there were all staring at her little girl.
“Let’s go back in the kitchen, Gwen,” Pansy said, walking over and taking her by the hand. “You can help me feed Margaret her cereal.”
As Pansy led Gwen from the room, Hermione sunk back down and groaned silently. When she’d decided to talk to Draco last night, she’d thought she’d have a couple days to figure out what she was going to say, but clearly the time had come.
Crawling away from the half wall, she stood up where her presence wouldn’t be noticed immediately. She pulled the sash on her dressing gown tightly and took a deep breath before walking to where she’d been hiding a moment before and said, “I’ll talk to you after I’ve gotten dressed.”
She turned and walked to her room before Draco, Harry or Ron could say anything. Part of her wanted to take her time getting ready, but the other part of her just wanted to get it done and over with.
Some five minutes later, she left her room and made her way to the stairs. As she reached the bottom, she found the three wizards where exactly where she’d left them.
“You don’t have to do this today,” Harry said to her.
“I need to,” she replied. “Can we go in your study?”
He nodded mutely and made to follow her, but she shook her head.
“I want to talk to him alone.”
“We’ll wait outside the room,” Ron said. “Call if you need us.”
She led Draco into Harry’s study and closed the door.
“How old is your daughter?”
She’d hoped they’d start with the basic pleasantries, but then again, Draco had always been a business first wizard.
“She turned eight in October,” she replied.
She could see the gears working in his head and knew he was counting months to figure out when she’d gotten pregnant: February.
She saw recognition flash in his eyes and then saw him swallow hard. “Am I- Do I- Who’s her father?” he asked.
He knew he was; she could see it in his eyes. He just wanted her to confirm it.
She nodded her head as she tried to find the words to tell him that yes, he was Gwen’s father, but her mind refused to cooperate. “I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Her admission seemed to knock the wind out of him. He opened and closed his mouth several times to speak, but words seemed to fail him. Finally, he gave her a look of deepest loathing combined with resentment, hurt, confusion and disbelief before he stormed out of the study.
A few seconds later, she flinched at the sound of the front door being slammed closed.
Of all the possible reactions he could have had, she’d feared this one the most. She could get over the fact that he’d chosen a loveless, pureblood marriage over staying with her, but now he’d made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with their innocent daughter either.
----
He walked for hours without a clear destination or even knowing where he was. He was livid that she’d kept their child hidden from him for eight years. She hadn’t even given him the option of having a relationship with the girl; she’d made the decision for him.
It was their daughter that had him wandering aimlessly, however. She had Hermione’s curls and large front teeth, his gray eyes and a hint of his pointed features, but other than that she appeared to be a perfect combination of the two of them with her golden blonde curls and her light coloring sprinkled with freckles.
Pride swelled in his heart, pushing aside the anger and regret.
How had this happened? Why had this happened?
“I won’t be your mistress,” Hermione’s words from that night so long ago came to his mind. “You can either have me or her, but you cannot have both.”
He’d chosen Astoria; he hadn’t had a choice. He’d tried to tell Hermione that, but it had fallen upon deaf ears. The second he’d said Astoria, she’d closed herself to him.
Overcome with a new set of emotions, he sank onto a bench and stared out blankly in front of him.
How had she felt upon learning she was pregnant with his child? Scared? Heartbroken? Alone? He reckoned it was a mix of all three.
What would he have done had she told him? He supposed the Greengrass’ would’ve called off the wedding, which would’ve led to the shunning of the Malfoys’ in pureblood society.
He laughed bitterly. The marriage that his father and Mr. Greengrass had arranged to strengthen the Wizarding world’s view of their families had done exactly the opposite. Astoria and her husband were making half-blood babies and it turned out that he himself was the father of a half-blood.
As his restless mind returned to Hermione and their secret child, he conceded that he couldn’t blame her for staying away while he and Astoria were married. But why hadn’t she come back after he’d gotten divorced? Surely someone one would’ve mentioned it to her in passing.
He knew Ginny had known about his and Hermione’s affair, but he reckoned she was set on protecting Hermione and Gwen. Harry, Ron and Pansy were privy to the fact that Gwen was his daughter, but he wasn’t sure how much they knew. He knew Harry and Ron were too loyal not to protect Hermione, but what about Pansy? Hadn’t she been his friend first?
Then he recalled a conversation he’d had with her shortly after his divorce had become final and she’d married Ron.
“If I learned something that I thought might hurt you, would you want to know?” She’d asked.
At the time, he’d assumed she was been talking about Astoria, but now he wondered if she’d been talking about Gwen.
He buried his face in his hands and sighed. Normally, Pansy was the person he went to when he needed to talk, but after his actions at the Potters’ house, he knew he wouldn’t be welcome. He knew he shouldn’t have walked out like that, but he hadn’t been able to think straight. His body had gone into fight or flight and he’d fled.
Rising to his feet, he made his way to an empty alley and then disapparated, arriving just outside the gates of his parents’ manor. He didn’t necessarily want to tell them yet, but he didn’t want them to find out from someone else.
It wasn’t until he’d let himself into the house that he realized that it was dinnertime. Their house elf, Bitsy, took his traveling cloak as he went into the dining room where his parents sat on either end of a long table.
“Draco,” his mother greeted him with a pleasant smile. “How are you, dear?”
“I’m fine,” he replied. “My apologies for interrupting your dinner.”
“Is everything alright, Draco?” his father asked.
“Yes and no,” Draco replied. “It can wait until after you’ve finished eating, though. Do you mind if I use the pensieve?”
His father nodded and Draco left the dining room. He went into the family library and opened the cupboard where the pensieve was kept. He pulled the memory from earlier from his mind and placed it inside. Then he leaned forward and allowed himself to sink into the memory.
He ignored the forms of himself, Pansy, Harry and Ron as they argued and waited for his daughter to make her appearance. He was surprised that she’d slipped out of the kitchen much sooner than they’d realized.
She certainly had her mum’s curiosity.
He watched her for several minutes as she surveyed the scene before her trying to make sense of it all.
What was going on in her head? He wondered.
Then he heard himself ask for someone, anyone, to ask Hermione to speak to him.
Truly her mother’s daughter, Gwen had volunteered and he swore he saw her arm flinch as if she was resisting the urge to raise her hand.
Not wanting to experience the scene with Hermione again, he pulled himself from the memory and was surprised to find his parents standing behind him.
“Your mother was too worried to eat,” his father said simply.
“I think you should sit down,” Draco said. He waited for them to sit down before he launched into a brief overview of his relationship with Hermione: how it started, how it ended, and, finally, with the news that he was a father.
His own father’s face was stony at the end of the tale, but his mother’s cheeks were tearstained.
“Do you have a photograph of my granddaughter?” she asked.
Draco started to shake his head, but stopped when he remembered the memory in the pensieve.
“I have something better,” he said, stepping aside.
He stayed in the room while his mother and his father, though begrudgingly, entered his memory. While he waited for them to return, he sat down and considered his options.
He knew that he didn’t want to lose Gwen again. She was his daughter and he wanted a chance to get to know her. He also knew that his heart belonged to Hermione, even after the truth had come out. He wanted nothing more than to do what he should have done nine years ago.
By the time his parents had returned from the memory, his father noticeably softened by the sight of his granddaughter, Draco knew what he was going to do.
“Mother, father, nine years ago, you picked the woman I married,” he said. “That marriage failed and now I plan to marry the witch I should have married then. I plan to ask Hermione to marry me and create a family for my daughter.”
His mother’s eyes filled with more tears and his father nodded, wordlessly giving his blessing to the union.
Knowing that his actions earlier in the day would not have been received well, Draco sent a letter to Pansy, asking for her help in arranging a meeting between him, Hermione and Gwen.
It took two days, but he finally got a reply from Hermione, asking him to meet her and Gwen at a Muggle park near Harry and Ginny’s home that afternoon.
He arrived half an hour before their scheduled meeting and waited for her on a bench, wringing his hands nervously as he waited. In a half hour’s time, he would be formally introduced to his daughter.
As he sat waiting, he noticed small families arriving at the park and after a few minutes he saw that they were nearly all gingers. Then he caught one shooting a look in his direction and knew that the Weasley family had come to protect their own.
He was both frustrated by this and comforted by it. He knew the Weasley family loved Hermione and treated her as one of their own, but for them to love his daughter unconditionally, especially now that they all knew she was a Malfoy, touched him. It was clear to him that even though she’d been missing the love of a father, she’d had several aunts, uncles and cousins who loved her.
The hairs on the back of his neck alerted him to Hermione’s presence before he could see her. Turning around, he saw her walking towards him, her hand clamped tightly around Gwen’s. As he stood, his eyes fell to his daughter and he smiled at the sight of a large grin upon her face.
When only a few feet separated them, she broke free of her mum’s hand and ran towards him. She threw her arms around his middle and buried her face in his winter coat. Awkwardly, he hugged her back and looked at Hermione, who kept her distance.
“Gwen, why don’t you go play,” Hermione suggested.
With her arms still wrapped around him, their daughter looked up and frowned at her.
“Gwendolyn,” Hermione said, firmly. “Go.”
Their daughter nodded and walked to the playground, turning back every now and then to make sure he was still there.
“I want to spend Christmas with her,” he said. “And you as well, of course.”
“We have plans with the Weasleys’,” she replied.
“My parents want to meet her,” he said. “And she’s my daughter, too, Hermione. Surely, the Weasleys’ can understand that.”
He saw her cross her arms over her chest and knew she hadn’t forgiven him for the other day.
“I shouldn’t have left like that,” he said. “I’d come over hoping to talk to you and instead found out that I’d been a father for nearly a decade without knowing it. I felt so completely overwhelmed and mad at you for keeping her from me that I just couldn’t think straight.”
He told her about wandering aimlessly for hours and how he’d ended up at his parents’ manor. He’d planned on waiting until Christmas day to tell her he wanted to marry her, but as they sat there watching their daughter play, a few moments later, he decided he’d done enough waiting.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a black velvet box.
“Put that away,” Hermione hissed from beside him.
“I want to marry you, Hermione,” he said. “I want us to be a family.”
“It’s too late for us, Draco,” she replied. “We had our chance a long time ago.”
“Can you honestly say you don’t love me anymore?”
“Me loving you was never the issue.”
“Just because I couldn’t say the words, doesn’t mean I didn’t feel that strongly for you,” he said. “I might have been slow when it came to expressing my feelings for you, but you have to remember how I grew up. Emotions were something to be kept to yourself.”
She looked unconvinced.
Draco drew a deep breath and said, “Hermione Granger, I love you. I’ve loved you for the last eight years and probably longer than that. I love our daughter and I want us to be a family. Will you -”
“I’m still not going to marry you,” she cut him off. “We haven’t spoken in eight years, Draco. We’ve grown up and we hardly know each other and that is no way to start a marriage.”
“So let’s get to know each other.”
“How can we do that?” She asked. “Gwen and I live in Australia.”
She was testing him, he could tell, but at that moment he was desperate. He wanted to be near his daughter and he wanted Hermione. If that meant he’d be moving to Australia then so be it.
“I’ve heard Australia is nice,” he said, casually. “I reckon a December day spent on the beach is rather splendid.”
Less than twenty four hours later, Draco, Hermione and Gwen arrived at his parents’ manor for Christmas Eve dinner.
As they entered the manor, he was shocked to find the usually cold house had undergone a Christmas makeover. His mother and father stood in front of a large Christmas tree, tears in his mother’s eyes again as she laid eyes on her granddaughter.
No introductions were needed as his daughter ran across the room and wrapped her grandparents in a hug. He chuckled softly at the look on his father’s face and knew that Gwen was going to change all of their lives.
He stole a glance at Hermione and saw that she too was crying. One way or another, he would convince her to marry him.
----
Dear Father Christmas,
Thank you for bringing my real daddy to me last year! Mummy says that you already know that they got married and we all moved back to England.
This year I have two wishes.
1) I want nana and pops to move to England.
2) I want to have a baby brother or sister.
Thank you in advance,
Gwendolyn Malfoy