Discovery Awaits

Disclaimer: HP and its characters belong to JK Rowling. Not mine. No copyright infringement intended.

Thanks to snarkyroxy for beta-reading =)

Chapter 3: Discovery Awaits

“S.E.N.S. – I For You (instrumental)”

“Draco,” Hermione drawled mockingly as she proceeded to swat Draco’s arm playfully, “you’re late.”

“Then I assume you don’t want these?” With that, he held out a bouquet of fragrant, peach-coloured roses.

Pleasantly surprised, Hermione brought the bouquet close to her face and inhaled its sweet scent. “They are lovely. I’ve never thought I’d say this, Draco, but you’re definitely spoiling me.”

Smirking, Draco said affectionately, “Same here, Mudblood.”

Whatever they were going to say next was cut off by the patter of little feet rushing down the staircase.

Draco felt an impact like a Bludger hitting his legs not long after hearing a squeal of delight.

“CoCo!” Little hands were already stretching upwards to show that she wanted to be carried.

“Hello, Muffin. How was your day today?”

“Me saw Santa today. Me got pressie, too.” This was blurted out in a speed that was only possible with exuberant children.

“It’s ‘I’, not ‘me’, cherie,” Hermione corrected, unable to suppress her habit of correcting people’s grammar.

“Do you want my pressie then, Muffin?” Draco asked whilst pecking the giggling girl on the cheek.

“Yes, yes, CoCo!”

“What do you say, cherie?”

“Prweety-please?” Unable to resist her puppy-dog-eyed expression, Draco pulled out a light pink teddy bear from his pocket.

The girl hugged Draco tightly, her little arms encircling his neck as she laid her head at the crook of his neck. Tucking the girl’s head under his chin, Draco asked, “Where do you want to go for dinner, Hermione?”

They had both agreed that in front of her daughter, Draco wouldn’t call her a “Mudblood”, no matter how affectionately it was said. Although the Final Battle had been over for a few years and many purebloods had seen the errors of their prejudices, both Draco and Hermione wanted the girl to be raised with proper manners and the knowledge that Muggle-borns were in no way inferior to purebloods.

Meanwhile, Hermione was too shocked to see the sudden smirk appear on her daughter’s face to even answer Draco’s question. The smirk was uncannily similar to the one sported on the girl’s father’s face. It was a cute version nevertheless.

“CoCo forgot, Mummy!” She turned around in Draco’s embrace and wagged her finger in front of his face, making tsk-ing noises. “Naughty, naughty!”

She attempted to grab Draco’s hair, but alas, grabbed his nose instead. “We are having ex… pee... ree… ment, remember?” she asked, stumbling slightly at the long word.

“Oh, no, the great Draco Malfoy forgot!” Hermione said in mock horror, which caused her daughter to giggle.

With a conspiratory wink, Hermione asked the little girl, “What colour are we going to change his hair into, darling?”

Clapping in glee, the girl smirked again and replied, “Pink!”

Seeing Draco’s mortified expression and hearing his helpless, sputtering protests, Hermione decided to let him off the hook this time and convinced her daughter to dye his hair a more suitable colour and leave the pink until the next holidays.

Both Hermione and her daughter stepped back to admire their handiwork half an hour later. They ended up dyeing his hair black and spiking his usual fringe with gel.

“So, how do I look?”

“Yuck!”

“Thanks, Muffin.” He grimaced and said, “Hermione?”

“Hmm… I’d give it an E.”

“What, not even an O?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked. “I don’t think your inflated ego needs any more stroking. ‘Exceeds Expectations’ will have to make do.”

He stood up and teased, “You know you love me anyway.” Hermione didn’t bother to answer, choosing to childishly stick her tongue out at him instead.

Draco then said, “C’mon, I’m taking you two out to dinner. Wear something nice, Hermione.”

Half an hour later, the three of them arrived at the lobby of the Inter-Continental Hotel in London. Hermione fought the urge to jump up and down like her daughter when she realized that Draco was taking them to an expensive buffet dinner. The last time she went to a buffet dinner was about a month before going to Hogwarts. Merlin, that was so long ago!

Draco was happy that the three of them went out to dinner like a real family. He had been gobsmacked when Hermione reappeared, having changed into a knee-length, strapless, red dress complete with red heels. Her hair, which had tamed tremendously as she grew older, was twisted into an elegant bun.

Both he and Hermione were so engrossed in their own thoughts that they didn’t notice they were being followed.

The next day they went to the local park; many children were already there, throwing snowballs at each other and making snowmen from the ample snow that had fallen throughout the night. The morning was spent making snowmen whilst the little girl teamed up with Draco to throw as many snowballs as possible at Hermione.

By lunchtime, all three of them were so exhausted that they practically stumbled into a nearby Gloria Jean’s coffee shop. The rest of the day passed relatively fast.

Meanwhile, in an undisclosed location, a non-descript man placed a folder onto his boss’s desk. His boss’s face remained impassive as he skimmed through the file, barely seeming to acknowledge the photographs in his hands.

“Who is the black-haired man?” The face of the man with black hair always seemed to evade the camera. All that could be seen was his hair. Only one photograph had caught his side profile, but it was not enough to develop a sketch.

“We’re still looking in it, sir.” Knowing that cowering and stuttering were the worst things to do in front of his boss, the man stood as stiff as a wooden plank.

“Not good enough. Continue searching,” was the response, bit out in a growl of irritation.

“Yes, sir.”

It was around ten o’clock when Draco and Hermione tucked her daughter into bed. The girl was so positively exhausted that she fell asleep as soon as she hit the pillow. They then retired to the living room, where a fire was lit in the fireplace. Draco told Hermione that he would not be able to spend Christmas with her and her daughter. The Muggle fashion world has decided to hold another fashion show during the Christmas break this year, and so Draco, being the head of a fashion empire as well as a leading designer since his migration to the Muggle world, could not miss it.

He left when Hermione started yawning profusely, teasing her about her much needed beauty sleep.

However, Hermione was dragged from her sleep when she heard knocking at the door. She rolled over, stuffing her pillow around her ears, trying to block out the noise and go back to sleep.

But the insistent knocks on the door became louder and louder.

Whoever it is better have a damn good reason to knock on my door at midnight, she thought grumpily.

Still groggy with sleep, she opened the door and nearly had a heart attack when she saw an impossibly black thundercloud stationed outside her door.

Dear god, I must be hallucinating.

She whispered unbelievably, “Severus?”

Invisible steam seemed to be pouring out of his ears. He is angry. Oh, no, she corrected herself, he is absolutely livid.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was then she realized that her fears over the past four years have indeed come true. He had found her. And now he was going to take her baby away.

Get a grip, Granger, she scolded herself.

Mustering all her remaining courage, she said through gritted teeth, “What are you doing here?!”

He sneered.

“I’m here to claim my daughter.