32. Crystal Clear

Eight and Eighth—Chapter 32—Crystal Clear

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Hermione looked up, a little startled by Draco's sudden appearance next to the cradle. She'd been staring. He reached a hand in and smoothed a finger over the baby-fine (obviously) hairs on the crown of his daughter's head. They were a very pale brown for now, but that was certainly subject to change. "You're sure you'll be all right with her while I'm taking my Potions NEWT?"

Hermione gave him a look. "I'll be fine. Now go."

He looked hesitant. "Are you sure?"

Hermione almost growled. "Yes."

He frowned, his head tipping to the side. "Okay," he said, backing away and looking wistfully between the cradle and her. "I don't think it will take me more than an hour and a half. I'll be back soo—."

"Just go, already."

He held his hands up. "Going."

"Bye."

The door to Draco's new professor's quarters clicked shut. Hermione breathed out—more than just a sigh, almost a groan. Every nerve in her felt taut. This was all too much. So much stress. She felt almost trapped. Trapped between a boy she was fairly certain she was in love with despite the odds, multiple promises to watch after him, a beautiful innocent baby who wasn't her own, promises to take care of her as well, and a prophecy—the thing that started it all, though Ermengarde would have been around regardless, she supposed.

Her own NEWTs were coming, and she felt less stress about them than about anything else that was going on.

Ermie-Rosie (Hermione was still working out what to call her) opened her eyes, her mouth trembled, and a small, baleful cry resonated around the room. Hermione was very careful in picking her up, and she sat down in a chair at Draco's desk to feed her.

She felt a little more calm as the baby formula glugged and gurgled into the awaiting mouth. "Shh…. Shh…. Your mummy is gone, but I'm here, and your daddy will be back soon. Shh…."

O

Draco's hand was shaking by the time he marked the final end stop at the end of his final essay. He was done. His NEWTs were over, more than a month early, and he was officially done with school. The only thing still keeping him here was the manacle and a certain girl.

Why had he ever been afraid of NEWTs? A few days worth of heavy thinking, brewing, and wand-waving, and that was it. Granted, he hadn't gotten his score back yet, so maybe the relief was a little premature.

Done. What a lovely word that was. Done. A very immature piece of his former self still hoped he had done as well as Hermione ultimately would once she took the NEWTs herself. He wasn't fool enough to think he'd actually done better. That was just laughable.

"I'll take that," McGonagall said, rising from her seat behind her desk and taking the parchment from him. She took a cursory glance at it, just enough to make sure he'd remembered to sign his name to it, and rolled it up. "You'll receive your marks in July with everyone else. Now, I suggest you go relieve Miss Granger from her babysitting duties, as she has class in," she checked her watch, "thirteen minutes."

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said, less from the ingrained politeness toward adults he'd been taught to use as a child than from an actual sense of gratitude, one based entirely on the fact that she'd just done him a gigantic favor. Granger was rubbing off on him in the worst way.

He stood up, his limbs feeling slightly jumpy still from all his frazzled exam nerves.

"And Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall added just as he was reaching for the door.

"Yes, Professor?"

McGonagall's lips pursed for just a moment, as if she'd been sucking a lemon or bitten into an ant. "If you should happen to be in the vicinity of my office with your child and need a moment with your hands… free, do consider dropping by." There was a subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"With my hands free?" Draco repeated.

"If you need a moment with her out of your arms. To stretch," she added, not blinking.

"Er… of course, Professor," Draco said carefully, trying to stifle his smirk.

McGonagall liked babies. McGonagall liked his baby. There had to be a way to exploit that one. He ducked his head as he left the room, heading back to his new quarters.

It had taken him just under a week to complete his exams, which was frankly amazing considering that the practical exams had required the presence of the NEWT examiners. He was lucky they'd agreed to come at such short notice. He was fairly sure that at least one of them, a man with pudge to rival Slughorn's and a nose to rival Snape's, had only come to jeer at him and shake his cane threateningly. How very encouraging.

He picked up his pace a little. Making Granger late for class… probably not a very wise move.

O

If balloons ever wore belts around them, then that would have been exactly how Hermione's chest felt. Constriction was the technical term. Balloon belt was the analogy.

It had been just a little under three months now since she had allowed her foot to miss its step. It was like falling up, with only the other stairs to catch her—except there had been something else. There had been a hand, which, to be deathly honest, she hadn't been sure she could trust. Would it pull her in or pull away, leaving her for a pratfall? Did she even want it to pull her in?

Those months had been surprisingly peaceful, with the exception of outside influences. Between them—and that was what mattered, really—everything had been fine, maybe even better than fine.

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger: better than fine.

Who could have guessed? Certainly not her.

At some point in all the drama of the last few weeks—okay, so she knew exactly which point it had been—she'd admitted to herself that this was more than just an experiment in happiness. This was love, weird and daunting as it was to think about.

She loved Draco Malfoy. …And he loved her, which was possibly even more weird and daunting. It wasn't so long ago that she would have reserved his feelings of love to Quidditch, money, and sneering.

He'd given her the password into his quarters, begged her (with flowers no less) to help watch his baby while he took his exams and crammed in last minute studying, and in the evenings, he'd sat slumped next to her, fondly holding her hand as he stared blearily into space, twitching occasionally at the slightest noise from the cradle. And she found it endearing, which was another weird and daunting thing.

"Hermione?" She turned in her seat at the back of the—suddenly empty—Charms classroom. "You okay?"

It was Ron. Good old Ron, with his ever-faithful dash of dirt on the side of his nose and a chocolate frog half-nibbled in his right hand. She shrugged.

"So…" he said slowly. "Malfoy has a kid, huh?" He wasn't just being slow on the uptake, she knew. He just hadn't had the nerve to broach the topic with her, not that she could blame him.

"That's right."

"Weird." And daunting. "Pansy's… right?"

"Right."

Ron sat chewing for a moment, and then he sat his chocolate frog down delicately. "Did I ever get around to saying that I'm sorry?"

"Maybe?" She couldn't really remember. The trip-snog-break-up incident felt so long ago now.

"Well, in case I didn't, just wanted to let you know that I, you know, am." He cleared his throat. "And I'm also sorry for being a git about you and what's-his-ferret. It's your life, and you can do what you want with it. That doesn't mean I'm going to approve or anything—but I am the one who messed us up, so I shouldn't be complaining."

She gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

He smiled back, broke off a frog leg, and gave it to her. "Friends?"

"Always," she confirmed. "How about you; are you and August getting on well?"

Ron almost laughed. "Dunno, really. I like her and all, but…" he lowered his voice, "the height difference might be a problem. I'm getting back aches from bending over to kiss her." He blushed slightly. "And we argue a lot," he added.

Hermione grinned. "That sounds familiar."

Ron looked skeptical. "What, me and you or you and Malfoy?"

She had to laugh. "Both. I don't know what to say about the back problem, but the arguing thing… that just depends on whether you think that'll prove to be a problem. I mean, you do tend to argue with all of your loved ones, Ron."

He grinned goofily. "Can't argue with you there." He winked for good measure before frowning. "But the funny thing is, you haven't been."

"Huh?"

"You and Malfoy. You haven't been arguing. Not really. At least, not in front of me," he added.

"Yeah, well…." She squirmed a little. "I mean, it's been hectic lately, what with… everything. It's been too serious to squabble over the little things." She frowned. "Honestly, it's been too serious lately to relax enough to have a row at all."

Ron opened his mouth as if to say something, then pushed the rest of his chocolate frog into it instead, munching thoughtfully. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think maybe you're in over your head? I know you… ugh, have feelings for him and," he made a face, "stuff, but are you sure this is what you want? You don't have to do this. You really don't. He'll have his mum to help him once summer's over, and he'll have access to his vaults again. He doesn't have to take that teaching job. You don't have to be with him if it's too much to handle." His hand slipped over hers. "You really don't have to always be the mature and responsible one. You deserve to live your life, too."

He was looking at her very intensely, those flecks of blue in his eyes that she used to be transfixed with giving her pause. "Ron, I—" she had to clear her throat, "I—."

"Just think about it," he said softly. "Just remember that you always have a choice." He squeezed her hand. "Do what's best for you."

She found herself nodding.

O

It had been a very long time since Hermione had climbed the ladder that led to Trelawney's classroom, but when she entered, the poufs and saccharine odor were exactly as she remembered them, if not fouler. She had to fight off her urge to go crack a window.

Trelawney was humming something quiet and mockingly eerie, the end of a quill in her mouth as she sat poised over a batch of star charts that needed checking. When she looked up, the feather stuck to her lower lip for a moment before dropping away.

"Miss… Granger?" she asked.

Hermione nodded, striding forward to sit down on the pouf across from her least favorite professor. "Why did Professor Amorell think that Draco and I were getting married?"

Trelawney gave her a funny look. "You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"Not today, anyway," Hermione responded, leaning back with her arms crossed.

Trelawney gave her a tight smile. "I could tell you… or I could show you." She stood, began fixing a pot of tea, and returned with one cup, something powdery and pink in a jar, and a crystal ball, complete with stand. "Essence of puffskein, to clear your aura. It certainly needs it," she added under her breath. She pinched some of the puffskein powder into the cup, topped it off with tea, and gave it a stir. She offered it to Hermione, who accepted it, though with a raised eyebrow. "And," Trelawney added, just as Hermione was about to bring it to her lips, "just a dash of brandy, for mellowing."

"Right," Hermione said, taking a sniff of her drink before taking a reluctant sip. It wasn't that bad, actually.

Trelawney's hands wavered and shifted above the crystal ball. "Now… just let your eyes come unfocused… look deeply, but not too deeply…."

That brandy must have been stronger than Hermione had thought. The room was spinning, and the fumes were starting to get to her head. Then, just as everything was beginning to climax into a crescendo of whooshing blood sloshing around in her brain, her body relaxed, and she slumped forward.

There was a picture in the crystal ball. It wasn't a wedding, at least, she didn't think it was, though she was wearing a nice summer dress. Draco was beside her, talking to a man she didn't recognize, joking the way a businessman joked with a client. But what caught Hermione's attention was the little girl on her hip. Ash-blonde hair, wispy, and a pink dress covered with little white roses. The girl's little thumb kept popping into her mouth, and crystal-Hermione kept pulling it out again, as if she'd done this so many times before, it had become second-nature to her. The child tugged at her sleeve, and she was set down.

The crystal didn't give off any sound, yet Hermione found herself straining her ears anyway. Her alter-self had taken to leaning against Draco's shoulder, and now she had joined in on the conversation, too.

Ermengarde's head peeked between Hermione's ankles, and then, just as she'd bent over to pick her up again, there it was. A tiny sparkle on her left hand.

"And that's that, dear." Trelawney had yanked the crystal ball away to put on a shelf.

About two years. They'd be engaged in about two years. So that answered that question. She had wondered, however briefly, if the prophecy had been half-baked. They'd fallen in love, yes. But no one had said anything about staying together.

So now she knew.

O

He wasn't sure why he was knocking. He still knew the password, and he'd only just stopped living there a little over a week ago. He shifted Erm (or E.R.M., as he had realized four days prior, almost smacking himself in the face) in his arms, not sure he was looking forward to the days when she still couldn't walk but was much, much heavier.

Half a minute of waiting and his patience had already worn thin.

"Aunt Morgana's Best Digestive Biscuits," he muttered, watching the Merlin statue shift out of his way.

No one was in the common room when he entered, and so he carefully made his way down the spiral stairs, knocking on the right-hand door. There were footsteps, and Patil appeared in front of him. She looked dubiously at Ermengarde, then back up at him with a bored expression. "Hermione's just left to visit you. I'm surprised your paths didn't cross, honestly. Babies…" she added, with a distasteful look on her face, "what is wrong with everyone?" She shook her head, going back into the dormitory and closing the door in his face.

"What was that about?" he muttered. He was just ascending the stairs when he heard the door open from above, and then, there she was, staring down at him from the top of the spiral.

"There you are," they said in unison, but apparently she hadn't been speaking to him, because the moment they met on the stairs, she took Erm away, snuggling against her with a big, sappy grin on her face.

"Oh, I missed you," she said, again speaking to his baby and not to him. He cleared his throat, and she looked over at him, smiling. "And I missed you, too," she said, leaning forward slightly. She'd probably only meant to peck him on the lips, but there was something about her good mood that made him feel like breathing her in, and so he did, giving her a kiss.

He withdrew after a moment, frowning. "Have you been drinking?" There was a funny tang in his mouth, like brandy and something else. What, he couldn't fathom.

She laughed. "Only a bit," she said mischievously.

He was still frowning. "You… okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Relax, Draco. I'm just happy, that's all."

"Oh."

She patted him with her free hand. "Come on. It's a lovely day outside. Let's get some air. Roses need sunlight too, you know," she said, nodding toward Ermengarde.

He followed her out onto the grounds, where the sun was indeed shining. Quite a few of the students had had the same idea, out practicing Quidditch and tossing around fanged Frisbees that they'd somehow managed to get past Filch—but were now having trouble hiding from the Deputy Head Girl. He found himself feeling a little smug, watching her deduct House Points and awarding detentions.

He wrapped an arm around her waist as they strolled.

"Hermione?" he asked, once the three of them were seated by the lake's shore under a tree, watching the squid scuttling to and fro to the amazement of a group of first years nearby, who, to Draco's chagrin, didn't seem the least bit intimidated by his proximity.

"Yes?" she asked, lifting her head from his shoulder.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She looked over at him, her head tilting to the side and a pleasant expression on her face. Ermengarde was asleep in her lap. "I make you happy, don't I?" she asked.

"Very much so," he replied, a little uncomfortably.

"It just sort of occurred to me," she said slowly. "I'm happy too, so why should I fight it? Why shouldn't I take a chance on happiness, like your white violet suggested?" She carefully withdrew her wand without waking the baby. "Here, Draco, a figwort for future happiness."

He caught the flower as she tossed it to him.

"Besides," she continued. "Back when I ended things with Ron, I was worried because I couldn't imagine a future with him. And I think," she paused, "I think our future is already here. And I'm okay with that."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, she was still sitting there, looking contentedly back at him. He'd almost thought she'd disappear.

So long as she hadn't disappeared….

He slipped into his own personal heaven: kissing Hermione Granger, a small, snoozing cherub lying between them.

The End

O

A.N. Unless I get a brain-transplant (highly unlikely,) there will be an epilogue and there will not be a sequel.