Punch Drunk Love

Part Three.

//Out on the road between nowhere and hell
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in you//

"Val, this is so hard for me to tell you - but Draco is your father."

Hermione waited for the anger to come, for the tears and the yelling and the exhibition of the famous Malfoy temper that she'd endured many times over the years, but there was nothing.

Hermione looked at her son to find his face expressing something akin to disbelief as he watched Draco. Draco was looking out of the darkened window, unable to face what he believed would be disappointment on the boy's face.

Val was silent for another moment. "You're... kidding, right?" he began slowly, though he was rather sure that his mother would never joke about such a thing.

"No, sweetie. I'm sorry. I should have told you - both of you - a long time ago."

He furrowed his brow, processing the information. "Mum, you told me my father was a Muggle you met abroad."

Hermione blushed and Draco raised his eyebrow in disbelief. He never would have imagined she would lie so blatantly about it.

She defended herself; "I wanted to protect you, Val. I thought that if you believed your father was just some Muggle, you wouldn't question why he'd never come to see you."

"What kind of fucking logic is that?" Val spat out, his eyes aflame. Hermione knew what was coming. She threw a look at Draco, who avoided her eyes, but she knew he was fully aware of how bad the Malfoy temper could be.

Val continued, "Okay, so we know that was a load of bollocks, but how did I come about? Were you having a secret affair or something? A Gryffindor/Slytherin scandal?"

Neither his mother nor his father would look him in the eye. Val paused to reflect what their silence meant. "It wasn't even that, was it?" he screamed, enraged, "It was fucking one-night stand!"

"It wasn't like that, it was... we were drunk, and young and-" Hermione pleaded desperately.

"A mistake? I'm fucking mistake? Well, that's really great to know."

He jumped out of his armchair and strode towards the door, "I love you too Mum!"

Seconds later the front door slammed shut. "Val!" Hermione screamed, leaping off the couch and following in Val's angry footsteps.

Draco followed her into the hallway but caught her arm. "Don't. Let me go after him."

Hermione stared at him in worry and confusion.

"Please," Draco begged. "I need to do this."

"Oh God, Draco," Hermione gasped, and brought her hand to her mouth, "I love him so much, he's my baby, I-Oh God..."

Draco quickly closed the space between them and pulled her body against his, relishing in the comfort her touch provided. "I'll find him, I promise. It'll be okay."

"Oh God," Hermione cried into Draco's shirt, "I've hurt you both so much... this is all my fault."

"Sshhh..." he consoled her, holding her tighter, "It's going to be okay. You make some tea or something and calm down, and I'll find him and talk to him."

Hermione nodded numbly, and began untangling herself from Draco's comforting grip. Draco released her and watched her turn around and make her way to the kitchen. On impulse he caught her arm and spun her around so she was once again facing him. His head lowered and his lips met hers with a too long neglected passion; their lips burning against each other in desperation and comfort and lust and something Draco couldn't quite place. Her lips were soft under his, pliant as he pressed his mouth against hers. He moaned audibly and she drew away from him, "Go and find him-I'll be here when you get back."

+++

//You know I did something right.
Something that keeps me alive.//

Draco continued down the hallway to the front door, ready to charge out into the night after Val. Much to his surprise, however, when he opened the door, Val was there sitting on the front step. Draco stood, fixed on the spot awkwardly. Val peered up at him, his grey eyes full of a mixture of hurt, resentfulness, and confusion.

"She sent *you*?" he pondered sharply.

"No, I asked to speak to you," Draco shifted nervously. "I thought... well, I don't know what I thought."

Val didn't say anything, but Draco took his silence as an invitation to stay. He sat down next to him.

"Listen, Val. Valentine. I know how you're feeling, I-"

Val cut Draco off, "You don't know shit," he countered angrily. "You don't know what it's like to find out that you're just some grand mistake - the result of a drunken romp between two wizards who don't even *like* each other."

"Val," Draco said firmly, "You were *not* a mistake. Your mother getting pregnant was an accident, a very happy accident. A mistake is something you regret, something that is always bad." Draco paused and attempted to survey the blank stare that sat on Val's features. He added quietly. "I never regretted that night - never. Being with your Mum was probably the only time I've ever truly been happy."

"You say that now but then you fucked off out of her life," Val replied angrily, "Whether I'd happened or not, if you were happy like you say you were, then you should have stayed."

"Well, shit," Draco smiled wistfully, "If I had a head on my like yours at eighteen maybe I would have stuck around-are you sure you're my son?"

"It's what people have been telling me all night," Val shrugged, "Must be Mum's influence... she's hardly going to let me be flaky."

"I hardly think it's just Hermione's influence that got you Head Boy at Hogwarts, and into Auror training to boot," Draco praised Val, and despite Val's lowered head and frowning countenance Draco knew he was smiling.

"I try," Val grinned, and Draco could see some of the anger filtering out of his expression as he raised his head and ran his hand though his hair. With his hair momentarily out of his eyes, Draco could see even more how the boy looked like him.

"You're a good kid," Draco added, and resisted the ridiculously paternal urge to ruffle Val's hair.

"How would *you* know?" Val retorted, "You've known me fifteen minutes."

"And you think that stops how I feel about you? About your Mum?" Draco asked, his voice bordering on desperation. "You're my son. There is nothing in this world that could measure up to that-I've not even been a part of your life *yet*, but I know you're the best damn thing I've ever been a part of."

Val rolled his eyes, covering up his urge to burst into tears and embrace him. "How... sentimental, *Dad*."

Draco suppressed a grin. Only a Malfoy could pull that out of the hat. Considering this, Draco wondered at how emotionally unhinged he himself had been all evening. It was really quite uncharacteristic for him.

"So..." Val sighed precariously, "I'm a Malfoy, huh?"

"Looks like," Draco responded nonchalantly, regressing back to his eighteen year old self (or was Val suddenly acting thirty-eight?).

"We've got oodles of cash, right?" Val asked in a half-serious manner.

"Yes, we do."

"Excellent," Val grinned, "I've always wanted a Firebolt 3000."

"You mean you don't have a Firebolt 3000? Potter didn't get you one? Absolutely bloody typical..." Draco trailed off.

Val frowned. "You know what miffs me the most about this all?"

Draco sent him a look of interest.

"I spent seven bloody years at Hogwarts, and all that time I could have been bragging about who my dad is. I could have been a legend, for Christ's sake!"

That settled it; Val was back to his eighteen year old self.

But then, "You're not going to hurt my Mum, are you?" Okay, maybe not the previously presumed eighteen year old.

Draco looked at the boy carefully; there was no hidden malice, only concern in the boy's wide, open eyes.

"I..." Draco struggled with his being honest, not used to having anyone to open up to, but if he wanted things to work with his son he was going to have to. "I just want to be with her, and you."

Val looked at his own clasped hands, and avoided Draco's gaze. "It's not because of... you don't want to be with her just 'cause of me, do you? Because I don't want you to hurt her and it be my fault, it's not fair and she doesn't need it and--"

Draco interrupted his son; "I'm not going to hurt either of you, or at least I'm sure as hell not intending to," he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I was here tonight with your mother because I wanted to see her; I didn't even know you existed and I wanted to be with her. My relationship with Hermione isn't because I feel guilty or indebted to you or her, it's because I saw her tonight and couldn't handle *not* seeing her again. My relationship with her is mutually exclusive from my relationship with you.

"And whether I'm with your Mum or not, I always want to be a part of your life now, if you'll let me."

Draco smiled to himself. Telling Val how he felt was also the first time he had admitted any of these things to himself. He cared about Hermione Granger. No.... he loved Hermione Granger. And he had a son with her. He and Hermione were parents. It was as though his entire life had come together, all in one night.

At this point, it was nearing two A.M. Val stifled a yawn and Draco turned to him, tempted to yawn himself. "What do you say we head in and find your Mum? She'll be worrying herself sick about you."

Val simply nodded and followed Draco inside. As they entered the living room Hermione sat curled on the couch, idly stirring her tea. On seeing them she discarded her mug of the coffee table and jumped from the couch and ran to embrace her son.

"Val, you bloody git!" she threw her arms around him and began to smother him with kisses. "Don't you ever," she kissed his right cheek, "ever," then his forehead, "do that to me again, you hear?"

"Mum, Mum!" Val tried to pull away from her suffocating hug. "I was only just outside.... Ask Draco!"

Hermione eyed Draco, who nodded in assent, smiling. "That's no matter, Val. It's the principle. You could have given me a heart attack!"

Draco leaned a slant toward Val and asked him slyly, "Did she smother you this much when you were growing up?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes to slits and scowled at him. Val turned to Draco, smirking, "Oh yes, always."

"Pffft!" Hermione scoffed, grinning, "You were too busy playing Quidditch with Harry to bother with cuddling your poor, neglected Mum!"

At the mention of Harry's name, Draco's posture tensed. "Oh yes, wonderful Potter! Can't forget Potter now, can we?"

At his father's sarcastic and mildly childish behaviour, Val cocked an eyebrow in a very Malfoyesque fashion, but favoured appeasing his temper rather than adding to it; "Harry's getting a bit past it, maybe you could teach me some moves," Val smiled, and then added tentatively, "*Dad*?"

Draco's heart swelled upon hearing this declarative word; it felt concrete, tangible. It felt like all the pain, angst and heartbreak of the evening had meant something, contributed toward something greater, and was not in vain. It felt like his whole life-not just this one evening-had been worth something.

Draco's eyes found Hermione across the room, and he smiled slightly at her. Val watched the display with something akin to disgust gracing his features. "Stop it!" he yelled in annoyance, "Stop making ridiculous gooey eyes at each other. It's disgusting; you're *old*!"

His eyes didn't leave Hermione's, but Draco snorted in response to his son's rant; could the boy be anymore like himself as a teenager? Eighteen year old Draco had thought that it was positively disgusting to have sex after you hit thirty; what could be possibly more of a turn off than sex with an *old* person? But looking at Hermione across the room from him, Draco was certain he felt anything but old.

"This is bloody awful," Val continued, "I'm going to bed, to *sleep*. Don't make any noise. Eurgh!"

Val stalked off, shaking his head and muttering as he went. Draco grinned at Hermione, who could barely suppress a similar grin.

"Lovely job you did with him, really," Draco drawled, "He's so.... ranty."

"Hmmm," Hermione mused, "Where I come from we call it 'Malfoy.'"

"Bitch," he muttered playfully.

"Cow," she countered.

"Cow?" he questioned. "Can you call a bloke a cow?"

"I can call you a cow if I want."

"You're really odd, you know that?" Draco declared, one eyebrow rose as he sauntered towards her. He placed a kiss on her forehead and pulled her into his embrace.

"Mmmmhhhmm," she murmured into his shirt. "Right now, though," she continued, raising her chin a bit to speak, "I'm just tired."

"Understandably so," Draco nodded, "you did get tanked tonight, after all."

Hermione gasped at his cheek, "I was not tanked!"

"Sure," he chided. "We all know that Hermione Granger can't hold her drink, love."

"I hate you," she muttered through clenched teeth.

"And I you," he answered, though he knew that neither of them was being serious. They stood silently as they were for a moment, she wrapped in his arms with her head resting on his chest, and he with his chin perched atop her head.

"You can stay if you want, you know," she added quietly.

"Yes... the couch does look particularly comfy," he answered. She pulled away from him and rested her hands on her hips.

"No," she declared. "No guest of mine is sleeping on the couch. You can have my bed, I'll take the couch."

Draco crossed his arms about his chest, "No, Granger. A gentleman never allows a lady to sleep on the couch. Off to your room, I'll be fine."

Hermione stood her ground, tensing her body and stamping her feet to emphasize her point. "No. You go off to my room."

"Get over yourselves! Just go to sleep!" Val shouted from the other room, obviously frustrated.

At the back of his mind, Draco thought the more logical idea would be for them both to take the bed, and not just for practicalities sake, and yet realised that perhaps tonight would not be the best time for that, especially with their son in the next room making assuming comments. Of course, it wasn't just Val's presence that halted Draco from lifting Hermione into his arms and depositing her underneath him on her bed, but he wanted to do things right, take things slow, and not screw it up like he did last time.

"Fine," Draco said, motioning towards the couch, "We'll both take the couch. That way you're being a good host and I'm being a good guest."

Hermione nodded, "That's fine. But wouldn't that make you a poor gentleman?"

He grinned devilishly, "I can be as ungentlemanly as you'd like."

Hermione looked amused, startled, and nervous all in one go. "But no funny business, don't worry," he answered her look.

"Thank God!" Came Val's sharp retort from his bedroom, and a final slam of his bedroom door.

Draco sat down on the couch and threw his legs along the length of it. Hermione scowled at him until he toed his shoes off, which landed with a decisive thunk behind over the armrest. She smiled nervously, unsure where boundaries and rules now lay. What would curling up in Draco's arms be like? Surely the comfort provided in a loving touch would be more intimate than drunken sex, and if so, how could they go from one to the other with nineteen years of solitude in-between.

"Hermione?" Draco prompted as he settled himself further on the couch, propping up various cushions to act as pillows.

"I-I'm fine. This is just... a lot."

"You think I don't know that?" Draco asked softly, "I'm not blaming you, but this night has been a hell of a lot more for me to take in than you. I think that it's just the after effect of the drinking that's kept me sane. We still need to talk this-everything-through. There's so much I don't know about you or Val, or that he, or even you, don't know about me. There's only one thing I do know; that I want to be *here* with you, in your lives."

Hermione bit her lip in an attempt to stop the tears flooding her eyes from falling; their family--small and fractured as it was--had a chance of being something-something Hermione desperately wanted to be a part of. Despite the effort and the heartache and the endless explanations, Hermione knew, like Draco, that the end result would be something good, something beautiful.

Slowly, Hermione made her way to the couch after flicking off the light switch, and settled down in front of Draco's supine form. Lifting herself completely onto the small couch she wriggled back, and leaned into Draco's comforting touch as he spooned his body around her, his arm resting over her body and holding her to him.

"We both want you here Draco, you shouldn't be hesitant about being with us... you belong here," Hermione whispered in the darkness of the dimmed room.

Draco didn't answer verbally, merely dropped a kiss on her head, and tightened his grip around her waist. He smiled, and knew his grip on her was nothing more than comfort to them both; he wouldn't have to wake up alone, and there would be no more empty mornings without goodbyes. Nor, Draco decided, would there be any more goodbyes at all.

-- finis