Draco's Big Day

professor mary

Story Summary:
Over the course of a day, Draco comes to realize his level of commitment to his relationship with Hermione. (Draco/Hermione, also featuring a snarky Narcissa and Pansy, and an obnoxious jewelry shop owner; this is fluffy crack!)

Chapter 01

Posted:
01/28/2006
Hits:
2,093


Draco looked up at the owl that was still perched on Hermione's coat stand. It was regarding him haughtily.

"You can just leave it, you know," he said. "I'll make sure to give her the letter, you infernal creature."

The owl merely continued to stare at him suspiciously.

"She's downstairs, all right? You can't find her where she is right now. Just leave her letter right here, in her box, and she'll get it."

After a couple of moments, in which Draco was not-so-quietly contemplating owl-cide, the owl finally dropped its parcel and flew out of the office window.

Draco sat there, eyeing the letter. He'd recognized the owl immediately. For generations, Saint Mungo's had been the only place in this part of England to use the dark red Screech owls. And he knew that Hermione had dropped by to see the Healer this morning on her way to work.

To say that he wanted to open it was an understatement. He was almost biting his nails because he wanted to open it so badly. Of course, he wasn't going to open it. Well, he was fairly certain that he was not going to open it.

As he tapped his fingers impatiently on Hermione's dark mahogany desk (a gift from Draco on her last promotion), he started to reason with himself.

If it were a true emergency, someone would have Apparated or Fire-called to talk to Hermione in person. So it must not be that important, he thought. And if it were something really private, he reasoned, the owl would never have left it on her desk, despite Draco's threats and cajoling. Thus, the news must be something rather minor... like a cold or something. And if that was the case, Draco argued as he reached for the letter, then he could drop in over at the Apothecary and get Pansy to whip up something special for Hermione.

With an explanation in place, now he felt absolutely obligated to open the letter. He broke the seal with his wand, knowing that unless someone used a complicated tracking charm, it wouldn't be noticed. And then he read the letter.

He read it three times in rapid succession before its contents sank in. Then he jumped up, hastily thrusting the parchment into his robe pocket, and stepped into Hermione's fireplace.

Within seconds, Draco was stepping out at the Apothecary.

"Pansy!" he shrieked.

"Pansy, where are you? This is an emergency!"

"Draco? Is that you making all that noise?" Pansy said, as she stepped out from the lab in the back of her shop.

"What on earth has your wand in a knot?"

Draco opened his mouth. He cleared his throat twice. Then, when words utterly failed him, he just handed Pansy the letter.

"You're opening her mail now? Don't you give the girl any privacy..." she began to admonish but then quickly stopped talking as her eyes moved across the scroll.

"Oh," she said quietly, folding up the document and handing it back to Draco.

"What I am going to do?" he asked desperately.

"Well, first things first, I think you should hire a detective."

"A detective?"

"Yes, Don't you want to know how this happened? And then you're going to need to bribe this Healer. Not only do you need to delay this getting out but I bet whoever it is knows the full story. You can get his name."

"Bribe the Healer? Whose name?

"Stop repeating me. And then it wouldn't hurt for you to get yourself another girlfriend. What about that French girl's sister, whatshername, Gabrielle... she's part-Veela. Having her around would accomplish two goals: one, it would be a sharp blow to Granger and two, it divert attention away from the rest of this mess."

"What?"

"Are you suddenly unable to comprehend the English language, Draco? I know this is shocking, but come on! Pull yourself together. You've faced bigger problems than this!"

"Pansy, I have no idea what you're going on about! Hermione is pregnant! I don't need a detective. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Pansy opened her mouth and then shut it again.

"Oh, wait. I see. It's yours. Well, that's different. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" she cried, pulling Draco into a hug.

"Congratulations!"

"Congratulations?"

"You're doing it again. Stop repeating me! Of course, congratulations, you fool. This is exciting news. Aren't you happy?"

"I don't know," Draco replied confusedly.

"Well, how is Hermione? She must be ecstatic. Frankly, it's about time. Most women start having children in their mid- to late twenties. I was finished with my brood before I was 29."

"Pansy Parkinson Longbottom, that is a lie. I happen to know that you were 30 when Franklin was born," Draco snapped.

"Oh, all right. Fine. I was 30. Barely. The point is that Hermione, and you, too, smart ass, are even older. So, it really is about time to start your family."

"Well, that does make sense. But I didn't really think we were in a rush. Besides we haven't even talked about this... And we're not married. Bugger! I've got to go and get a ring!"

"Whoa, there, Draco. You haven't talked about kids? Or marriage? Are you certain that you should be going to get a ring? Maybe you should think about this. Marriage isn't something to rush into, even if there's a kid on the way."

Draco merely gave his friend a wide grin and then a quick peck on the cheek.

"I've got to go, Pansy. Thanks for everything!"

Draco was a man on a mission. He left the Apothecary and walked out into the street of Diagon Alley, his cape flowing dramatically in the wind.

He stopped in front of Madame Joyer's Jewels. Quite suddenly, he was hit with a rather strong case of the jitters. But he squared his shoulders, stuck his chin out, and walked into the store.

"Well, bless me, Señor Malfoy. I haven't seen you since you were just a boy. How is your dear mother?" An elderly woman, with a strong Spanish accent, dressed in fabulously purple robes, scurried from the back of the long narrow shop. Madame Joyer, he presumed.

"Er--" Draco was fairly certain he'd never met the jeweler before in his life.

"Come in, come in. No sense in standing in the doorway. Now you just come right over here -- let me take a good look at you. All grown up, then. My, my." Draco felt her sharp old eyes travel appreciatively over his body. It was a bit disconcerting, he thought.

"Of course, you probably don't remember me," the older woman said, though her eyes looked hopeful. "You were just a niño pequeño when Señora Narcissa..."

"Yes, well," Draco glanced at his watch. Where had the morning gone? "Can you help me find an engagement ring?" he blurted.

"Oh! I declare! An engagement ring! These are happy times, Señor Malfoy. Happy times, indeed. Who is the lucky girl?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Señorita Granger! That's right - how could I forget? She's quite the heroine, no? Why old Señora Boca was just telling me the other day that that Señorita Granger was the youngest researcher in the Department of Mysteries.... You know, I wonder what they do down there? Those Unspeakables... Surely you must be privy to a little inside information?" Again, her eyes were hopeful that perhaps Draco might know the secrets of the bottom floor of the Ministry for Magic.

"I don't know what she does," he admitted sheepishly. Really, why didn't Hermione tell him anything?

"Isn't that interesting?" the old shopkeeper said to herself.

She gave him one long measuring look. "Well, then, engagement rings. Right over here, Señor Malfoy."

With a wave of her wand, a huge display case lit up. Draco stared at the case, his mouth open in shock. There were so many rings. There were silver rings and gold rings and rings with diamonds and other precious stones. There were big rings and small rings.

"And these are our Charmed Rings," she said, directing him towards an even larger case. "Just in case you have need of special services," she whispered.

"Special services?" Draco repeated questioningly.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it, Señor Malfoy. Wives sometimes get them for their husbands, too, you know."

"Oh," Draco said, unwilling to hear further clarification. "I don't think I'll be needing one of those just yet... but perhaps for the wedding set?"

"A wise choice," she agreed, and the second cabinet darkened.

Draco looked at the multitude of rings. And then, apropos of nothing, he mumbled, "Neville said that Pansy's ring spoke to him. I didn't believe him at first. But maybe it's true?"

"Sorry, dear. I missed that, I think." The older woman was looking kindly at him.

Draco maintained his scrutiny of the rings. None of them seemed to be calling to him--literally or figuratively.

"How should I choose?"

"Well, what do you think Señorita Granger would like?"

"Er... she's not one for jewelry, actually. She has a plain silver watch, just a Muggle thing, at that. But then sometimes she wears these gaudy purple earrings that Luna gave her... and other times just some little gold knots that belonged to her grandmother."

Draco waited, hoping that his description would lead to a recommendation.

"Young man, may I make a suggestion?" the woman gently asked.

"Oh, yes, please!" Draco said, relief evident in his voice.

"At times like these, a man's mother is invaluable. I think Señora Narcissa will be able to help you."

"Mother? But of course! I'll be back."

Draco ran out of the building, only pausing to retrieve the edge of his cape when it got stuck in the door. Within seconds, he was standing in the foyer of Malfoy Manor.

"Mother? Are you home? Mother?" he called into the expansive hallway.

"I'm here, darling."

Hurriedly, Draco walked into the study where his mother was at her desk, ostensibly reading from about eight books at once.

"Lovely to see you, Mother," he said, giving her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. "Care to join me for some jewelry shopping?"

"What? When have you ever wanted to go jewelry shop--- Oh! Oh, Draco! Does this mean what I think it means?" Narcissa asked, as she put down the two books she had been holding.

"Er... well, I don't know. But I need to get Hermione an engagement ring and there were too many rings to choose from and so, I need your help."

Narcissa stood up, slowly and regally. She smiled and Draco was reminded of a time from his childhood when he'd performed a particularly difficult task correctly.

"Draco, I am so proud of you. So proud and happy. Hermione is a lovely woman." She reached out her hand, grasped his, and gave it a squeeze. "She is one of the bravest and most strong-willed persons I've ever met... who else could put up with you, after all?"

Draco rolled his eyes. His mother had her own brand of teasing.

"Yes, yes. So you've said many a time, Mother. Now, about the ring?"

"Well, of course I help you, darling. But one doesn't rush into these things. Now, why don't we start in Paris tomorrow afternoon? From there we can go to a few places in Belgium... and you know, there's a lot to be said for the diamonds coming out of Canada these days. Let me look at my calendar..."

"Mother, I don't mean to be disrespectful or in a hurry or anything like that, but I really need a ring today!"

"Why on earth would you need a ring today?"

Draco felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. He looked at his toes, noting absentmindedly that his shoes could do with a thorough shining.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy. Why do you need an engagement ring today?" Narcissa's voice was firm. Draco knew that he had to answer -- she wasn't above using the Imperious Curse, after all.

"Well, I just made up my mind and I'm ready to do it," he explained.

"I see. You suddenly realized, after six years of dating... after 3 years of co-habitating, of which I never approved, by the way - You realized today that you want to marry Hermione?"

"Yes." Draco figured if he voice hadn't broken just then, he might have sounded more convincing.

"You mean to tell me that you want to spend every single day together for the rest of your life," Narcissa prodded.

An effortless question, Draco thought. Waking up next to his warm Hermione was easily the best part of his day. Why wouldn't he want that to continue?

"Of course," he responded, already feeling more confident.

"Humph." She paused. "You would take care of her 'in sickness and in health'?" she asked, tauntingly.

Draco thought about how he'd held back Hermione's hair this morning when she threw up into the toilet and of how he'd helped her clean up and then made her tea.

"I would."

"You'd give her anything she needed - even if it meant giving up everything that you have?" Narcissa pressed.

Draco thought about his vaults, his properties, his birthright... the choice seemed far more simple than he would have thought. "Absolutely."

"You want to have and raise children with her?"

Draco remembered the way his heart had raced when he read Hermione's letter this morning... "The thought is exciting."

Narcissa was silent for a long moment.

"You love her?"

"Yes," he said with no hesitation.

"Oh, my darling child, come here and hug your mother," Narcissa said, her voice sounding just a bit weepy.

"I love you so much. I just want you to be happy... you know that I adore Hermione. But I just wanted to be sure, dearest. Marriage is not something to rush into for the wrong reasons."

"Well, Mother," Draco began, as he embraced his mother, "you can rest assured that this is all happening for the right reasons."

"Don't lie to your mother. It's insulting. Clearly, Hermione is pregnant and you are nervous and now... now we must go into town and buy her a ring at Madame Joyer's shop... that old bitty is the biggest gossip. Always has been..."

Three long hours later, Draco was standing outside of the jewelry shop while his mother finished her goodbyes with Madame Joyer. He had a plain black box enclosed in the pocket of his robes. He was nervous, to be sure. But he also felt confident in his decision... and unimaginably excited.

Narcissa stepped out of the jewelry shop, wrapping her long traveling cloak around her.

"Please come 'round to dinner, Draco. And bring my future daughter-in-law with you."

Draco's mouth suddenly felt dry and he could have sworn that the little black box had exponentially increased in weight.

"Mother, she's not said 'Yes,' yet."

Narcissa merely tut tut-ed. "Nonsense, darling. You just be sure to tell her what you told me. Now I'll see you both tomorrow night..."

She leaned forward, placing a quick peck on his cheek. "Can't believe I'm going to be a grandmother. Well..."

Seconds later, she was gone and Draco was once again standing alone outside of the jewelry store. He glanced at his time piece. Hermione would be expecting him soon.

It was with a surprisingly heavy heart that Draco made his way down Diagon Alley, towards Hermione's office. All at once, a set of realizations hit Draco, creating a whirlwind of anxiety that he hadn't felt in years. He had some serious explaining to do.

In no particular order, Draco needed to address the following issues: one, Hermione was pregnant and did not yet know; two, Draco knew that Hermione was pregnant because he had opened her mail; and three, Draco wanted to propose to Hermione and was unsure about Hermione's answer. Though it wasn't really as issue, per se, Draco really did want to know more about whatever it was that Hermione did at work.

He stopped short outside of Hermione's office, his left hand hovering over the shiny brass knocker of her door.

"Draco!" Hermione threw open the door, dragged him inside, and had her lips pressed against his before he could manage a "Hallo."

"Mmmm... Draco, I've been thinking about you all day," Hermione said between kisses.

Draco looked into her warm brown eyes, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close into his embrace.

"I love you so much, Hermione," he said simply.

"Mmmmm..." Hermione moaned as she licked a sensitive spot behind Draco's ear. "Love you, too. We're not in a hurry to get anywhere are we?"

Draco pulled her even closer.

"No, but Hermione, I do want to talk with you."

"That's fine, love. Let's talk right here in my office," she said, as she wordlessly spelled the door shut and locked, never moving from his arms.

"In fact, why don't we start talking on my desk?" Whether she maneuvered him or charmed her desk closer, he wasn't sure. But he felt its wooden edges pressing into the back of his thighs.

In spite of his nervousness, Draco chuckled as he sat down on her desk.

"Hermione, how are you feeling?"

"Do you have to ask?" she countered as she leaned her body into the space between his legs.

"You're clearly feeling better than you were this morning."

"No doubt about that. Aren't you hot, dear?" Her hands were making quick work of his outer robes, scarf, and the top buttons of his shirt.

"Did you hear from the Healer?" he squeaked just as he felt her tongue licking that spot under his ear again.

"I'm not really worried about that anymore, Draco."

"Well I am," he said even as he began to feel other parts of his body competing for his blood flow.

Her hands were distracting. Draco struggled to maintain control. He had Things that he needed to say, after all.

"Hermione, have you thought about our future?"

"You mean past the next twenty minutes or so?" she teased, nipping the edge of his jaw line.

Before he could say another thing, he felt a warm hand press against the increasingly tight situation in his trousers.

"Gah..."

"You were saying?" Her hand pressed a bit harder and Draco couldn't help but to thrust his hips a little bit forward.

"Hermione! I have to--"

"Oh, all right, fine. Clearly, you have something to say, something that just won't wait," she said petulantly, giving him a last squeeze for good measure.

Draco slumped over a bit, resting his head on her shoulder. He willed his trouser situation to control itself.

"Hermione... I--"

"What's this?" Hermione interrupted, as she fingered the little black box through the pocket of his shirt.

"Er--"

She pulled it out of his shirt and held it in the open palm of her hand. She looked at it curiously as if it was some new specimen of ... well, whatever it was that she researched downstairs.

Draco held his breath.

Abruptly, Hermione looked away from the box, fixing her blazing brown eyes onto him.

"Have you been reading my mail again?"

"Um... no." Draco winced under Hermione's scrutiny. "Well, just once-- today, actually. But I had my reasons..."

"And does this," she said, gesturing with the box, "have anything to do with that particular breach of my trust?"

"Well, sort of ... perhaps, initially, but not really any more."

"Explain yourself, Draco Lucius Malfoy."

"Hermione, I love you. I really do - and I have for years. This morning's... er... news only helped me to see that a lot more clearly."

"Go on."

"Well, I panicked. I went to see Pansy... and she was talking about detectives and bribes and then Madame Joyer was trying to sell me some kind of surveillance rings... but then Mother - well, Mother grilled me, to put it bluntly."

Hermione raised an eyebrow but Draco could also see the faint beginnings of a smile playing around her lips.

"I just realized that I've been ready for all of this for a long time - and I think that we're both ready, Hermione. I want this with you. Not just because of... well, you know, the baby."

The word stood out between them, almost tangibly.

Hermione looked away. When she met his eyes again, there were tears in hers.

Draco took the box out of Hermione's hand. In what felt like a decidedly awkward fashion, he got up off the desk, disentangled himself from Hermione's embrace, and then got down on his left knee.

He never looked away from her eyes.

Then he opened the box, gave her his best smile, tasting salty tears that seemed to be trickling down his face of their own accord.

"Hermione Granger, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

*~~~*

Later, he would never remember whether or not she said "Yes" right away. Rather, he'd recall the sounds of her laughter mixing with his own, her tear-rimmed eyes, and the way he'd tripped over a stack of books on her floor and sported bruises on his shins for weeks. And with perfect clarity, he'd remember the way he felt - not just about Hermione, either. He'd remember that startlingly clear shift that his universe seemed to make-- how, in the space of one day, his entire life gained clear purpose and direction with the knowledge that he was to be both a father and husband.