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Summer Nights by queen_potter
Chapter 9: Give 'em Hell Kid
I am excited with all these fast updates I am getting done. I am hoping to have this story finished by the holidays, giving myself ample amount of time.
Hope you enjoy!
I left Hermione’s flat in a fit of rage. I truly did not give her any time to explain herself. I had planned the exchange in my head; allowing an easy conversation to go back and forth amongst us. I say my part, she gives me her side. We hug it out. Everyone goes home happy.
It did not go that way. Obviously.
I got so mad reliving that. How could she think that keeping me in the dark about a child be the right thing to do? What could have possibly gone through her mind to make her think that? What did I do to her that would result in this? I naturally blame myself at first, a bad habit I picked up from my childhood, going over the last several years in my mind wondering what could have happened but come up with nothing. This was completely and utterly her fault.
I pace the floor of Ginny’s and mine home. What do I do now? I can’t just show up at Malfoy’s manor and demand I take her back. I’ve truly never met my daughter. I’ve seen her, but I’ve never met her. From what I knew of her, she looked just like me. My color hair. And my eyes, the eyes I had inherited from my own mother. I wanted so desperately to meet her, she must be growing up so fast I didn’t want to miss another second of her life.
I hear the front door open and Ginny entering the kitchen. I was down the hall in the living room. I pause my pacing and listen to the familiar sounds of my wife picking the kettle up from beside the stove, walking to the sink, filling it with water, walking back to the stove, and setting it down on the front right burner. I smiled to myself at how I knew her so well. My wife was a creature of habit. A trait she received from her own mother. Every morning she wakes at the same time (6:25 a.m) takes a shower, puts on her clothes for the day and goes down stairs and starts a pot of coffee for me and a kettle of tea for her. She then goes and takes the prophet from the owl that arrives promptly at 7:30 and takes it over to the table and sits it on the side of my spot so when I make it down stairs at whatever time that may be, it will be ready for me. She stretches as she waits for the pot to boil, watches out the window and ponders breakfast. Then only after she has her first cup of tea is she ready to start breakfast. From then on is the rest of her daily routine. I never ask her if she gets tired of doing the same everyday, I doubt she even notices she does. It’s almost a comfort to know that she will always be where I expect her to be.
That’s where she and Hermione are different. She thrives by doing the same thing, Hermione probably would die of boredom if stuck living that way. And I love that quality in each of them, for different reasons possibly unknown to me. I miss her. Hermione that is. I’m so bloody mad at her. But I miss her. I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I was so lost in thought I didn’t hear Ginny enter the room.
“Tea?” She asked holding a cup out to me.
I look at it and take it from her continuing my thought process.
“Is everything alright, Harry? You don’t look so good.” I was starting to get agitated. I really didn’t want to talk with anyone at all about this situation. Nonetheless her.
“Everything’s fine. Just got a lot on my mind.” I sip the tea and take a seat on the couch.
“Okay. Well, I want to tell you everything that happened after you left the party. Angelina and George…” I zoned out as she started talking about her many relatives and baby nonsense. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited at the prospect of being a father…again. I just wanted to be alone and figure out what my next move was and she’s making that very difficult to do.
“Flur wants to go shopping at the adorable little boutique in France that she was telling me about. Where she got all of Victories onesie’s when she was an infant. Harry, you remember the ones with all the bows and lace? Well, anyways she was saying that they have a gender neutral section that’s just as cute-“
“Yeah, Ginny, don’t you think that this is something you should talk to one of your girlfriends about? Not to be rude but I was in the middle of something and now’s just not the time.” She looked taken aback at me cutting her off and I started to feel guilty. Nevertheless I still stood up and left the room.
I couldn’t help but feel bad but, I needed space. I pulled my coat on and left the house.
I walked to the end of the drive and turned on my heel to disapparated away from my house. I landed in an alley a block away from the Leaky Cauldron. I walked fast over to the entrance and walked inside.
As usual everyone looks up at me and gets quiet. I ignore everyone and act as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Well, maybe because that is the ordinary for me. Can’t go anywhere without being gawked at.
I walk up to the bar and order a shot of Firewhiskey. I feel someone sit down next to me and look up and see Ron.
“Hard day?” He asks with a laugh as he orders one too.
“You could say that.”
“Wanna talk about it? I don’t mind kicking back here for a couple hours. No ones going to be looking for us anyways.”
I sat there thinking. The shot glass was sat down in front of me and without thinking I picked it up and drank its contents and asked for another.
“You know what, Ron? I do want to talk about it. We’ve been best mates for years; I don’t hide stuff from you.” I said patting him on the back. The burning from the Firewhiskey stopped and my stomach felt warm and I gained a sense of courage and wanted to talk.
“Right, Harry. On with it than.” Ron ordered three more shots and lined them up on the bar.
I drank my second and like Ron ordered three more to have prepared.
I took a deep breath and started the story at the party two November’s ago. Pausing only to take a drink or to order more. Ron sat completely quiet listening to my story. He ordered a whole bottle.
I finished at today with the argument in Hermione’s flat.
“Bloody hell mate, why didn’t you ever tell me before?”
“I was waiting to see what she’d do which I should have known would be nothing.” I looked at the bar to see a stack of empty shot glasses and three fourths of the bottle empty.
“I say we go to Malfoy’s and get her now! There’s no telling what dark magic he’s been teaching her!” Ron stood up and pulled out his wand. He clutched onto the back of the bar stool to keep from toppling over.
“Ron, we have to be strategic about this. I don’t want to make a big deal quite yet. I haven’t even told Ginny…”
“Oh.” He tucks his wand back into his jeans and sits back down.
“I guess that should be my first thing to do, tell her. Then maybe get a lawyer. This could get ugly. I just don’t want everyone finding out; we need to keep it quiet.”
“Right. What about Hermione?”
“What about her? She caused this. If she didn’t want the baby to begin with she should have given her to me not Malfoy. I’ll never be able to forgive her for that.”
“That is true. Look, why don’t you talk to Ginny, sleep on it, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
“Alright. Thanks for listening.”
What we didn’t notice as we left the bar was a blonde woman with an acid green quill.
After my encounter with my attorney I needed to formulate a plan that had no room for errors. I spent a couple nights making notes and researching different cases similar to this. Apparently leaving a kid on someone’s front porch was a bigger deal than I assumed. I didn’t realize the amount of paperwork and signatures needed to adopt and evidently money but that wasn’t an object at the moment.
My head pounded and I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger for a long moment. Sighing deeply I closed the book I was looking at and sat back.
My original plan had been to have Luna Lovegood sign the papers beings as she was the only other person there when Avery had been born. But, apparently after looking into it they use authenticating spells and charms to make sure that doesn’t happen and children aren’t being handed over by a third party.
I started wondering how hard it’d be to have Granger sign the papers. My guess would be fairly difficult with how flaky she’s been acting already. I couldn’t trick her into signing now because the spells some magical way of detecting that. There’s no loophole. And normally there’s ALWAYS a loophole. I’m a Malfoy for Merlin’s sake, which has to account for something.
When I had come to the conclusion that I couldn’t think of a plan tonight I stood from my desk ready to go upstairs and prepare myself for bed. I was almost out the door when the flames in my fireplace turned a vibrant green and my good friend Blaise Zabini stepped out and dusted himself off.
“Well ‘ello mate!” He said brightly and walked over to me with his hand extended.
After the war had ended I had lost contact with the vast majority of my friends or rather “friends”. I avoided all contact with anyone and tried to rebuild my reputation on my own. Having been branded a Death Eater at such a young age made it a complicated task to recreate myself but I felt like I was currently on the right path and doing a damn good job.
The only people who I seeked out after everything blew over were Blaise and Pansy Parkinson. I went through the training to become an Auror and completed it with no problems. The only problem I have though is the way I’m viewed at work. I’m never given assignments that I want and I suppose that no matter what, my past will always be there to haunt me.
“Well this was unexpected. Good to see you though.” I went and sat down at one of the high backed chairs in front of my desk.
He sat down to and looked like he was trying to think of how to say something.
“Draco, I know how I’m the only one you’ve truly confided the truth about Avery to. Well, I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell you what I heard today at work. Evidently Potter knows about her, I’m not certain if he just found out or what the deal is. But, he knows and he’s right pissed about the situation.” He looked like he’d really put a lot of thought into these words.
“Who’s he telling?” I was worried that this was going to ruin my adopting the baby. Not that I really had a plan but whatever I was going to come up with eventually is being messed up by Potters anger.
“Apparently he’s very, very angry. Draco, he’s gone to the Prophet.” His eyes had a very obvious panicked look in them.
I sat back and sighed. In the back of my mind I felt a sting of pain for Hermione…Granger. When did I start using her first name? Or feel sorry for her? I’m growing soft.
“Potters always been the one to go and make a big scene. Well, what do I do? What if I’m arrested for having the bleeding baby, Blaise?”
“I dunno mate.”
Being worried like this is something I’m not familiar with. I’ve been worried but not about something I actually cared about. And Avery is something I care about.
“Maybe you should talk to Potter? Work this out before it becomes a big ordeal. That’s what I’d do.”
“I don’t talk to Potter. If he’s already putting this out there publicly than he doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Well, if you need me you know where I am. I just wanted to tell you that.” He stood up and left back through the fireplace.
I was glued to my seat. Not sure of what to do. Blaise was right; I should talk to Potter and try to work out some kind of a deal. But, shouldn’t that have happened before he went and told the bloody Prophet?
I stood up and paced a bit. Than grabbed my coat and aparated away.
Thanks for all the wonderful reviews on my previous chapter! You all are wonderful. I really would love to at least get 10 on this chapter before I post the next one! That’s my challenge to YOU!