Uncoffined

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter; I do not earn money by writing this story.


A/N: Thank you, nastygrl and dynonugget for all the fantastic beta work on this story – I was so glad to have you with me on this ride! I will miss this story!

Happy Valentine’s Day to those of you, who celebrate it!

New banner by draconis23!!

http://i668.photobucket.com/albums/vv42/ lady_of_clunn/ uncoffined.png

Just take spaces out :)


*****************************************************************************************************************

Uncoffined Chapter 13



Unmasked



The throng of paparazzi made for a cold and unpleasant reception to the outside world.

They had returned the battle-worn robes Draco had been wearing when he had been arrested. Although they had been cleaned and haphazardly mended, they were unmistakably the High Reeve’s Death Eater robes. Whipping around his emaciated frame by the gusting sea breeze, he must have looked a fright.

And so he did on the front page of the Daily Prophet’s the next day.

A living, walking scarecrow with his Death Eater mask and his few belongings hidden in a small cardboard box tucked away under his arm, he was a haggard thing that looked as if he’d been risen from the dead.

As soon as he stepped foot outside of the main gate of Azkaban, flashes blinded him as the photographers competed for the most horrible picture of the fallen nobleman.

He had ignored them, hadn’t even bothered to give a ‘no comment’, but shouldered his way through the crowd. He clasped his wand he had received only minutes before like a lifeline, his knuckles white with the strain; ready to defend himself should need be.

The high wrought-iron gates to Malfoy Manor were closed.

Somehow he had envisioned and feared that the Ministry might have succeeded with bringing down the wards in their entirety. In his nightmares, he stood before open and rusting gates that led to barren grounds, covered in brownish remains of what had been a lush lawn for centuries.

He always woke with a start. And although these were not his worst nightmares, his failure to the Malfoy line felt like a blanket of lead weighing him down.

For a second, when he touched the over-sized handle, he was afraid the manor would reject him. That one second it took the manor to react to his presence and have the gates swing open silently felt too long, and he shivered in relief when it did.

For this reason he had not dared to apparate directly into the lobby. His magic was giddy upon being used again, and he did not want to think of what could happen if he had tried to apparate into an unwilling house.

The deep green of the lawn and the bright colours of the flowers along the terraces seemed too bright and cheerful to his eyes, now used to little more than shades of grey. With careful deliberation, he kept his eyes on the gravel path underneath his feet that made crunching noises with his every step he took.

Since he was of age, he had scarcely taken this path before, as the other members of the family, he had preferred to apparate directly into the desired part of the house.

The manor welcomed its lost son by opening its main entrance as soon as he had reached the foot of the few, low stone stairs leading up to it.

Inside, the silence was deafening.

It lasted for less than a minute. He had not even had the chance to set down his cardboard box when Nippy and several other elves appeared with loud, echoing cracks and immediately clung to his legs, wailing pitifully.

Panicked and at a loss as to how to comfort distraught house elves, he held still and settled for bending down and petting their little backs every now and then.

“Welcome home, Draco. Where is he?”

Distracted from the sobbing heap of house elves at his feet, Draco looked up into a painting that usually was a still life of a lavishly decorated table and armchair with what looked like a brocade throw draped over its backrest. Now the Elizabethan Lord Malfoy stood next to the table, leaning on his hand on top of the wooden surface.

“Thank you, Varian. How have things been in the past two years?”

“As to be expected in circumstances as they were,” Varian dismissed. “Where is he, Draco?”

“Where is who?”

“Your son, Draco!” Varian thundered. And then much softer: “We are all eager to welcome him into the family.”

Draco’s face set into a frown.

“How do you know about Julius?”

He did not like this information to be out before he knew that it would not harm his son to be … well, his son.

“How do I know about him?” Varian Malfoy scoffed and folded his arms in front of his chest. “I watched him being conceived on the study floor!”

Draco felt heat rush into his cheeks. The memory of their frantic coupling after he had apparated them out of the Warren was hazy at best. It had felt so good and right and when the manor magically nudged him along, he had all too eagerly complied.

“Have you written to her, Draco? Will you request she come here? Over the last two years, I have tried to find the portraits of Lucius and Narcissa, but it is complicated. There was talk of the paintings, but they might still be unfinished and thus they cannot wake, maybe we can find them and then they can see their grandson …”

“Varian,” Draco interrupted his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather gently. “I do not know whether she will be willing to return to the manor, even for a visit.”

This muted the portrait into a worried silence.

“I will investigate the details surrounding mother and father’s portraits; it would be nice to have them here.”

He sighed and looked down on his tattered robes.

“But for now I will take a bath, burn these robes and then… I think I have a letter to write.”


***


Hermione stared at the parchment in her hands.

For two years, she had not received a reply to her letters.

For two years, she had been afraid that he was rejecting her – them – because of her blood.

Now he was free, and she had a letter in her hands.

He had received her letters sporadically, but always so badly mutilated by the censors that hardly anything of it had been left.

He had tried to write to her as well, whenever he had managed to get his hands on some parchment, but apparently, his letters had never made it to her.

Her heart clenched. He had not rejected her; he had tried to contact her.

There was hope for Julius, then. Month after month had passed without news and without permission to visit the father of her child.

Her status as war heroine was a shaky and controversial one.

Some said that she was a heroine because she had fought at Harry Potter’s side from childhood, but many pointed out that nobody knew where she had been after Harry Potter had fallen.

And that she obviously had not done very much to help fight the Dark Lord.

She had refused the many interview requests of the Daily Prophet. She could not possibly tell them the truth.

The Wizengamot judges were the only people besides Draco and herself who knew about her life during the Reign of Darkness and were sworn to secrecy by pacts that her solicitor had negotiated for her before Draco’s trial.

She had been afraid of the day he was released from Azkaban. It was very possible that he was bitter and angry toward her, blaming her for his imprisonment, not to mention that she had lied to him continuously.

It had broken her heart to imagine that he might look down in disgust on their little boy.

The portrait of Lord Malfoy may have said that the family understood that there are more important things than blood purity, but that did not mean that Draco understood.

Now his letter gave her hope to at least be on speaking terms with the father of her child.

Only, so much time had passed and they both had been through very different experiences during the last years.

What if they remained strangers from now on?

With shaking fingers she penned a note agreeing to meet him in a location not too far from her tiny seaside cottage.


***


She did not run to him.

But she was there, standing at a safe distance from the agreed meeting point, a blond child, their child, leaning against her leg, thumb in mouth. Her hand rested lightly on the white blond curls.

There was no smile on her face.

But she was there, with an open face, her own face, and it made all the difference.

When he had finally reached her, he ached to touch her hair, to wrap his arms around her, to kiss her own lips for the first time and explore how they felt against his.

But he remained at a comfortable distance, not invading her personal space.

Careful not to scare her off, he smiled.

“Hermione.”

“Draco.”

He looked at the little boy with longing.

“May I?”

“Only if he wants to.”

He nodded that he had understood and crouched down to be closer to the little boy’s line of vision.

“Hello, Julius. That is a very nice dragon you have there. I had a very similar one when I was little.”

Nearly invisible translucent eyebrows were raised and the snowy white stuffed animal was clutched tightly to the little chest.

“Dagon,” said Julius around his thumb.

Draco smiled.

“Yes, I like them, too. Especially the Scandinavian Silverscales and the Lindwurm.”

“Dagon!”

Julius presented the white and silver stuffed animal for a few seconds before securing it against his chest again.

“He is beautiful.”

Julius smiled against his mother’s leg.

Draco stood.

“May I come inside or would you like to go to a neutral place? There is a nice seaside restaurant nearby.”

She looked down at her son and back at his father’s face. There were lines around his eyes now that she did not remember seeing before. She considered for a few moments.

And then she smiled the tiniest of smiles. It was little more than the raising of the corners of her mouth.

“Do come in, please.”

And it was a beginning.


***


Hermione stood with Julius on her arm in front of the largest painting the manor had to offer. It was a very wide landscape, epic even, telling the story of Merlin, but now the huge canvas swarmed with Malfoys of all ages. Wizards and witches were pushing to the front row, a short witch in bright purple robes repeatedly jumped in order to be able to see over the shoulder of the wizard in front of her.

Some were sitting cross-legged at the very edge to the heavy frame or kneeled to be closer, wiggling their fingers and cooing softly. Or less softly, as everybody tried to gain Julius’ attention.

Julius beamed showing tiny teeth at the blond crowd only to hide his face in his mother’s shoulder acting shy, but Hermione could feel his little grin against the skin of her neck. When Julius could no longer stand the suspense, he peeked back at his assembled ancestors and squealed as the cooing and exclamations rose as he had intended. With a mischievous smirk he hid his face again, causing the Malfoys to break into a disappointed, collective ‘ooooooh…’ then they entertained him with a delighted ‘aaaaaaah’ and more cooing noises when he smiled at the painting again.

Julius was delighted at how easy it was to make them do what he wanted.

Finally, he moved in for the kill.

He held out his stuffed white dragon to them.

“Dagon!” he exclaimed before holding it to his chest again. He smirked. It worked every time.

Many of both the witches and wizards found themselves wiping at dry tears of paint rolling down their cheeks.

He was a Malfoy.


***


With relief he realised that she was not against his spending time with Julius.

And with relief, she noted that he was interested to spend time with his son. And with her.

They had spent several days together visiting Brighton, Aberdeen and a seemingly random place in Wales with breathtaking views over luscious hills and mountains.

Sometimes he held her hand.

Very carefully he had breached the topic of her visiting the manor with Julius, and after a bit of contemplation, she had agreed.

To her astonishment, he had freely offered her a legal magical contract defining his role in Julius’ and her own life.

In fact, he insisted on a contract to provide for her and Julius in the event something happened to him, so she could claim the Malfoy fortune for Julius; even though they were not married and Draco was as of yet not officially recognised as Julius’ father.

Hermione allowed Draco to spend time with his son, and Draco had to take the time to see his son, no matter how busy he might be.

Not that he was overrun with business proposals, fresh out of prison as he was.

It also stipulated a monthly allowance for Julius and Hermione. Her lack of ‘leadership’ in the resistance during The Reign and her status as a single mother had the wizarding world look down upon her.

The Weasleys tried to help as much as they could, and they loved to babysit Julius; but they also had to come to terms with their own mourning and rebuilding of a family life, however small this family had become.

The allowance would enable her to step back and decide what she wanted to do. University had been unaffordable, but now, it was a realistic option.

Lost in thought, Hermione stared at the thick scrolls of vellum on Draco’s desk in the study, in the exact spot where another magical contract had waited for her signature more than three years ago.

Draco laid a light hand on her shoulder.

“I have something for you.” He fidgeted a bit, suddenly nervous about his choice.

“Yes?”

He produced a bouquet wrapped in delicate, yet concealing paper.

“Thank you,” she said, while he attempted to unwrap the bouquet without tearing the paper too much.

When the paper finally came off, it revealed several bright red peppers, sitting in a large bouquet of tightly arranged lettuce leaves.

Hermione stared at it without comprehension in her eyes that Draco horribly assured that he had made a grave mistake. Idiot! To remind her of how they had met back then!

“I am so sorry, Hermione, I should have taken the roses, I honestly have no idea what I had been thinking, I…”

She suddenly leaned into him, her forehead resting against his chest and her shoulders shaking.

Terrified, he did not know whether he was permitted to comfort her after causing her, yet again, pain.

He groaned.

“Oh gods, Hermione, I am so sorry!”

She looked up at him, a brilliant smile on her face with tears of laughter in the corners of her eyes.

“I love it! Thank you, Draco.” She motioned with her head toward the desk on which the contract rested. “I only have one request.”

“Yes?”

“I would like to be allowed to kiss your mouth.”

*****************************************************************************************************************

A/N: Thank you to everyone, who has been following this story, to the many faithful reviewers and new friends! It was wonderful to read your thoughts and a few times, reviews have even changed the story.

angeles - Thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews! The ending for Draco, Hermione and Julius really is a beginning, a hopeful one.

lemonade8 – Thank you for reading and reviewing so many times! The Weasleys are badly shaken after the war and are trying to rebuild their life with Ginny. I think they knew all along, but understood the situation.

swiss miss - Thank you so much! I hope you liked the ending!

RZZMG - Thank you for reading and reviewing! I can’t wait to hear whether you liked the ending. I have an idea for a sequel, but that will have to wait until after DracoBigBang and my HG/SS story. But I will keep it on the backburner.

Dreamweaver – Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Hermione sent word of the baby because it would have been cruel not to tell him and for him to find out after two years, would have been a disaster.

xxxanity - Thank you for reading and reviewing! I hope you liked the ending!

Vegr_dvergrinn_Legolas - Thank you for reading and reviewing so many, many chapters! Jeanne was chosen deliberately. Hermione’s middle name seems to go from Jean to Jane and back to Jean, but since Jean suited my purpose better, I stuck with that.

nitesfool - Thank you for reading and reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter!

caseyjarryn - Welcome back!! I hope you like a hopeful ending :)

mibella - Thank you for reading and reviewing! I hope you like the chapter :)