Christmas at Rosier Park

Chapter Four: Two Masks one Heart

Draco had become very accustomed to Hermione being a part of his daily life. It was a few days after their visit to the winter greenhouse and since then they had taken to walking the grounds for a bit each day before they had tea and lunch together.

Draco savored the small intimate moments, a bit of a normalcy while in hiding. Every once and a while Draco woke with a moment of panic, knowing that soon his attic would be archived and her work would be done.

If needed be he would open all the other family homes, that would keep her busy for a while, and give him more time with her.

Well… for Moloch more time with her.

This ruse was beginning to weight heavier on him then ever before. Hiding from oneself alone was one thing, having to hide from others, especially the woman who was burrowing deeper and deeper into his heart, was nearly agonizing.

New feelings and a new face, a lot for a 25-year-old wizard.

Shaking off the concern he placed the letter he had been writing to the goblin at Gringotts. It was time for him to make his holiday donations to the various charities of which he was an anonymous benefactor.

The two his felt most connection to were the war orphanage and St. Mungo’s, being a war orphan and having been saved by the staff of St. Mungo’s after a particularly bloody battle.

His barn owl Wesley took flight from his study balcony just has he heard Hermione’s gentle steps descending from the attic stairs.

He popped out of his study and into her path causing her to jump and squeak a bit. Draco reached out a hand to steady her. He looked down and realized she was holding a rather large piece of rolled parchment.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.” He said allowing his hand to linger a bit to long on her slender arm.

“No, I was lost in thought, there is something I am very excited to show you.” She said tapping the parchment roll on is chest.

“Excellent, shall we discuss it over tea?” he asked offering his arm.

“Perfect.” She replied taking his arm, the warm little hand of hers fitting so perfectly.

Once in the parlor Hermione magically lifted the large piece and had it unravel slowly. Soon the parchment reveled itself as a family tree dating back quite a number of generations.

Eventually the dark beauty of his grandmother Druella appeared next to the fierce face of his grandfather Cygnus.

Next his lunatic aunt Bella and mad uncle Rodolphus, his lost aunt Andromeda had vies drawn over her face, and then the pale and lovely likeness of his mother bound with the silver stare of his sire.

Then a boy, oh he knew very well indeed.

The picture that had been chosen was at his fifteenth birthday where he had been presented into society. His face still rather pointy and his hair slicked backed, and his father silver eyes.

“When I saw this I thought you would like to get to know a branch of your family.” Hermione explained, pulling his eyes away from his younger self to the witch he had taunted back in those days and now longed for.

“This is, astounding.” He said.

“And not quite done, Andromeda was, well disowned for marrying a muggle Ted Tonks and they had a daughter, who we all called Tonks because she hated her name Nymphadora. She married Remus Lupin, a dear friend to us all, and they had a little boy Teddy. Sadly we lost Tonks and Remus during the war.”

“What of Teddy?” He asked of his little second cousin.

“He lives with his grandmother but Harry is his godfather so every weekend Teddy comes and spends time with everyone. He is just the sweetest little boy.” The fond smile on her face confirmed the love she had for his cousin.

“Seems like he has far greater claim to all this than I do.” Moloch explained with a sweeping gestured with his arms.

“Since his mother was disowned she renounced all ties therefore she forfeited all rights to her and any direct relations to claim on any family land.”

“But the war…”

“War changes a great many things Moloch, but the oldest of laws are still the hardest to change.”

Moloch nodded while Draco stared at his younger self. War had indeed changed a great many things.

*******

Hermione was home and relaxing after a long day. After opening the box that held the family tree, she had discovered a hope chest owned by Violetta Black (née Bulstrode).

It had taken her the rest of the afternoon just to categorize the heirlooms and then late into the night at the office to get the paperwork done.

Hermione was now curled up in her favorite chair with a copy of: “Ancient Magic: The Oldest Magical Families of the British Isles and France.”

She had drawn the conclusion just by glancing at the diagrams that if you where a member of the ancient pureblood families your family tree never forked…ever.

According to her very painstaking chart making she could already connect Moloch to Harry distantly and even a further more removed from Ron.

She actually could not directly place Moloch on the tree but it would not be the first time someone was left out of the main family record. A third son of a third son is often just a footnote at the bottom of a blood chart.

Alkaid Rosier was such a name in footnote; perhaps it was time to do some digging into her client’s history?

She had to admit, based on the family portraits on the tree she had found, there was no denying the family resemblance- the chin was dead on, as was the shape of the eyes and the tight lips that could soften into a smile.

‘Okay, stop that line of thought right there!’ She chided herself. But she could not deny that the wizard was very attractive, bright and kind.

So much for ending that line of thought…

*********

Draco was curled up in bed looking at his entire family, far more dead than living.

He let his fingers trace the lines of his mother’s portrait. The image smiled up at him, those ice blue eyes meeting his.

Merlin he missed that woman. She had been the one thing, his only pillar through the worst of the war; the one candle lighting the darkness.

It wasn’t the curse that had killed her it was the fall. The battle at Malfoy Manor was a gruesome one. A hex from Rabastan had sent his mother over the banister and down the stone stairs, the puddle of blood had been so big…

Draco closed his eyes trying to shake the image of his mother lying at the bottom of those stairs from his minds-eye.

He had locked up that house, having no desire to be anywhere near it again.

He opened his eyes and traced where Isadora Rosier should be and her son Moloch. Isadora was his grandmother Druella’s cousin, sent away when she became pregnant with Moloch.

She escaped her confinement and traveled out onto the continent. By the time the family had found them Moloch had already died of Dragon Pox’s in Belarus and Isadora was already infected.

So much tragedy, as it seemed to be the fate of his family.

He had hopped that by making this mask he could escape, but his heart was still Draco’s.

He tried to imagine his own family tree, he was married to s curly-haired witch and from them happy children who would be a blessing, bringing joy and hope.

But it was all a dream, how could a woman love someone with two faces?

~~
A/N: Sorry for the wait, have been spending far more time in the car than anywhere else it seems lately.

So a little peek into the past and a dream for the future...