All I Wanted

All I Wanted

by Keelie

Chapter Five.

"Very well." A ghost of a smile eked its way onto Dumbledore's face.

Hermione Granger, you are the biggest freaking idiot in the world.

I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST AGREED!

As quickly as it had crept onto his face, Dumbledore's smile vanished. He now looked thoughtful, as though he was considering something important. "Miss Granger? Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes?" they replied at the same time. Hermione frowned at Malfoy's belligerent tone. He stared straight ahead. Is he even going to acknowledge I exist? she wondered fleetingly. Although perhaps it would be better if he didn't. Then I wouldn't have to make nicey-nice to Lucius Malfoy's brat.

"Aurora is at Hogwarts," Dumbledore responded. "Charisse Saradon and Minerva are looking after her. . . . but I think it would be best if you met her now."

"What?" For the first time since she'd seen him today, Malfoy looked flustered-- panicked even. "You mean, introduce ourselves? But she's a child!"

Hermione tried very hard not to roll her eyes. "She's two-and-half years old, Malfoy. When I was nearly that age, I was speaking in complete sentences!"

"Well, you weren't the average child, were you, Granger?" he retorted nastily. "She probably can't even walk--"

"Have you no grasp of a child's development?" demanded Hermione. "Oh right-- I forgot. You were left with a highly overpaid nanny while your parents cavorted about with the rest of the Death Eaters." The moment those words left her mouth, she regretted them. He deserved them. But not in front of Dumbledore.

"Take that back, Granger!" Malfoy hissed furiously, as if he too was disregarding the fact that their ex-headmaster was present. "She was not, you stupid, filthy cow--"

Hermione suppressed a shriek of outrage. How dare he? She felt as though she was transported back to Hogwarts, where she felt as though she had no control over where their frequent spats and quarrels went. "Who? Your mother?" she snapped. "Or should I say your father's trophy wife, who probably looked the other way as your father had the affair that produced you?"

"Go to hell, Granger!" His eyes had actually turned into chips of ice, chilled steel. . . . that light blue the hottest flames turned when they danced in the wind. . . .

Hermione had just opened her mouth to screech back at him, that disgusting Slytherin with icicle eyes when--

"Silence!" roared Dumbledore. Hermione was shocked out of speech. She had never, ever, ever heard Dumbledore yell at a student before. . . . actually, she'd never heard him yell, period, about anything. . . .

Even Malfoy looked chagrined. . . . well, as much as the Son of the Satan of the wizarding world could look. Hermione wished she had a camera. Then she wished that she'd never insulted Malfoy in the first place, simply because of the sadness in Dumbledore's eyes.

"I must ask," he informed them quietly. "That you set all personal prejudices aside. When I came to you with this, I had all faith that you would be able to do that. Sadly, I do now I have my doubts."

Hermione was mentally kicking herself. Oh stupid, stupid, stupid. . . . "Of course," she answered just as softly. "I-- understand--" She could see Malfoy's head bent ever-so-slightly. Is that his version of a high-society apology? Cos it's awful!

A bit of light returned to Dumbledore's eyes. "I know. And I think you will both do admirably."

"Yes," Hermione murmured, her words melding with Malfoy's, who was echoing her.

"Very well. Miss Granger, are you connected to the Floo Network?"

"I--yes, we are."

"We'll Floo to my old office. The name is 'Phoenix's Perch.' Aurora has a nursery off Charisse's quarters. We'll go directly there-- and do try to be discreet. School is in session."

"Right, then." Hermione hoped her voice didn't sound as odd as she felt. She pointed to the small, oak fireplace in one corner of the room. There was a bronze pot with "Floo Powder" etched into it sitting on the fireplace.

Dumbledore went first, stepping next to the fireplace and lighting it with a muttered incantation and a flick of the wand he had removed from his navy blue robe pocket. "Phoenix's Perch!" he called and stepped into the flames as he threw up a pinch of Floo Powder. He disappeared.

Hermione went next, feeling that nervous little twinge she always got before the rushed sensation of traveling via Floo. She grabbed a little powder, tossed it up into the air, uttered the location, and stepped into the flame.

Bam! Her whole body went icy-cold, then hot, and her head spun. The journey only took seconds, but she still had a lingering feeling of dizziness as she coughed through the soot and stepped out into Dumbledore's old office-- which, by the look of the shelves and shelves of books and black-haired witch sitting at the humongous desk, was now Minerva McGonagall's.

Dumbledore was standing at the desk, grasping one of Prof-- Headmistress McGonagall's hands and talking softly. "I see," were the only understandable words. McGonagall favored Hermione with a nod and gave another one to Malfoy, who, by the sound of coughing and an impressive string of curses, had also arrived.

"We'll go straight to Charisse's quarters," Dumbledore announced quickly. "Classes are in session, so no one will be in the halls. Follow me."

He led them down a flight of steps, out the office, and into the main halls of Hogwarts. Hermione brushed away a vague pang of nostalgia and continued to follow him, marveling at the fact that-- since all the students appeared to be in classes-- the halls were totally empty. Within five minutes, Dumbledore stopped at a painting of a lovely garden, with a young maiden sitting on a white lattice bench. "Transfig rocks," he spoke to the painting.

"Most certainly!" she giggled, and swung open to reveal a sitting room with thick white carpeting, pastel-colored poufs, watercolors on the walls, and big glass vases of birds of paradise. A petite woman with long chestnut-colored hair, wearing fashionable dusky blue robes over matching flared pants and a white silk shirt, jumped up from a peach couch to greet them.

"Albus! Thank goodness you've come-- she's in the nursery--"'

"Thank you, Charisse--" Dumbledore cut himself off. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, this is Charisse Saradon, the Transfiguration professor. Charisse, these are Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy-- Aurora's new parents."

Charisse Saradon, who had light, icy lime-green eyes-- a shade Hermione had never before seen-- wrung both their hands. "Oh God, Albus--"

"Charisse, if you could direct them to Aurora's room? I suppose you have some business to discuss with me, as I have with you."

The young Transfiguration professor nodded. "The door on your left, just there--"

And on they went.

Aurora's nursery was large, painted pale yellow with polished wooden floors. The only furniture was a maple dresser, a maple rocking chair, and a turquoise-and-white-striped window seat under the large picture window.

And the antique, crib-like maple bed Aurora, Child of Power, was slumbering peacefully in.

She was impossibly tiny for a two-and-half-year old, wearing crimson silk pajamas. Her skin was a delicate porcelain white, and her straight silvery-blonde fanned out around her head. She was absolutely precious.

"Are you sure she's not related to you, Malfoy?" Hermione was so mesmerized by the child-- her daughter's-- delicacy, that she was hardly aware of what she was saying.

"Contrary to what you believe, Granger, I don't just run around randomly producing children!" retorted Malfoy, obviously not as taken with Aurora as Hermione was.

"Funny, I thought you were just like your father!" Hermione snapped. It was a low blow, since because of their earlier squabble any courteous person would have avoided mentioning Malfoy's father, but the cheap shot felt oddly good. Funny. I guess I'm just not a courteous person.

"Fuck you, Granger!" His eyes were that ice again.

"I'm not the one who needs it!" she snapped back. "I thought you were the one who went into cardiac arrest if they couldn't screw an innocent girl once every hour--"

A wail interrupted her.

Aurora had woken up crying, her hands clenched into fists. Her eyes, Hermione could now see, were a clear, amazing aqua color. A tear was trickling down her cheek.

"Granger, do something!" hissed Malfoy as Aurora's sobbing got louder. She shot him her best Avada Kedavra glare. "What, you're the woman!"

Swallowing back her "you're a sexist bastard" lecture, Hermione hurried over to the bed, simply because Aurora's wails were breaking her heart.

"Shh, little one, you're okay," Hermione soothed as she automatically reached out for the child and cradled her close to her body.

"Mommy!" whimpered Aurora. "You're not Mommy!"

"I know, sweetheart, but--"

"I want my mommy!" wept Aurora, twisting in Hermione's arms. "Take me to Mommy!"

"Shh, Aurora," Hermione tried to calm her as she twisted about. "Shh. . . ."

Eventually, Aurora's sobs quieted to the occasional hiccough [A/N: I love that word!] and she was snuggled in Hermione's arms. "It's okay, sweetheart," Hermione whispered over and over. "It's all right." The presence of Malfoy was completely lost on her until he spoke up.

"Is she asleep?"

"What does it look like?" Hermione snapped, then checked to make sure Aurora hadn't woken up. "Yes, she is."

"Bite my head off, why don't you, Granger?"

"I'm not a murderer, thank you very much!"

"Like I am?"

"More likely than me!"

"Take that back, you--"

Once again, Aurora's tears interrupted their argument.

"Now look what you've done!" Hermione admonished him as she began to rock the girl again. "God, Malfoy--"

"Two to tango, Granger," he replied angrily. "Not that I would dance with you."

Aurora's weeping grew louder. Hermione kept on rocking her, soothing her under her breath. "Hush, Aurora, sweetheart, it'll be all right. . . ."

"Do something," Malfoy urged.

"Oh that was constructive!"

"Well, she's quieting down."

"No thanks to you."

"It was all thanks to me."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, smoothing back a strand of Aurora's pale blonde hair. From the other room, she could hear strains of Dumbledore and Professor Saradon's conversation. Their words were taught and rushed.

"She's so beautiful," Hermione murmured. "Like a little angel."

"Angels don't exist," Malfoy announced scornfully.

Hermione willed herself not to respond scathingly. "I take it you don't believe in miracles?" What? That wasn't a scathing comment, for crying out loud!

"Why should I?"

Hermione suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

In, out. In, out, she reminded herself. Oh God, I think Malfoy actually said something truthful.

This was a monumental occasion. For the first time ever, since they was eleven bloody years old, Malfoy had actually said something that he seemed think about thoroughly and be completely honest about.

The silence hung in the air.

". . . . named after the princess from a Muggle movie, she said. . . ." a snatch of Dumbledore and Saradon's discussion drifted into the room once again.

"Names," breathed Hermione. "Middle names."

Malfoy looked puzzled, a lock of silver hair flopping across his forehead. He toyed with his sunglasses. "Do explain yourself, Granger," he drawled. He, at least, seemed to be over their little exchange.

"Aurora doesn't have a middle name!" It's obvious, you moron.

What?!? It's not like I said that out loud, or anything. There's nothing wrong with thinking it!

"Kassidy."

"Excuse me?"

"Her middle name," he explained, as though it should be apparent.

"No it's not! Dumbledore didn't say anything of the sort!"

"Well, that's what it should be."

"Why?" demanded Hermione. It shouldn't. I promised myself I would name my first child after Mum. "It should be Karaline!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "It is a Malfoy tradition for the firstborn child to have the name that was their parents middle name. My father's middle name was Draco. If my parents had a daughter, her name would have been Laureene."

"But Aurora's name is. . . . Aurora." And her middle name is going to be Karaline!

"Unfortunately. But as my middle name is Kassius, her middle name will just have to be Kassidy."

"What? If her middle name is anything like that, it should be Marisa! That's my middle name. Or Karaline!"

"Kassidy--"

"Karaline--"

"Narcissa--"

"Elisabeth--"

"Laureene--"

"Allegra--"

"Aurora Narcissa Kassidy Malfoy," he pronounced.

"Malfoy?" Hermione was ready to spit nails. "She's not going to have your bloody name! Aurora Karaline Granger--"

Once again, Aurora woke up crying.

I am so-o-o-o-o dead, Hermione thought wearily. I'm half an hour in, and I'm already sucking at motherhood.

Yep, I have really screwed myself over.

And on top of all this, it's Malfoy.

Oh life is so bloody great.