From Venice with Love

The evening went off without incident but, as the weeks passed, Hermione noticed that Draco spent more and more time huddled with Harry, deep in discussion. She would catch them at odd times standing in corners talking quietly. They would see her and she would catch a glimpse of guilt in Harry’s eyes before they would both smile and change the subject. She tried to ignore her suspicions and just enjoy her time with her son.

Dante was growing at an alarming rate. At four months old he was holding his head up high and rolling all over the floor. Hermione had begun to give him cereal, which he ate with relish. He held smiles for everyone with the exception of Ron, but Hermione thought that was because Ron couldn’t get past what Dante looked like. He had chubby legs, but the pale skin of his father which could not be cured by the sun since he was not allowed outside. His pale hair was curling slightly now, like Hermione’s, and had now reached below his ears. His eyes looked like Draco’s as well, but his features were less pointed.

One sunny August day, Hermione had Dante in his highchair attempting to feed him cereal. Dante screeched and hit the spoon, cereal flying everywhere. Hermione laughed as she began to clean his face of the mess. Sensing she was not alone, she turned to roll her eyes at who she assumed was Draco, but stopped dead, her eyes widening. There in front of her, was Narcissa Malfoy.

Immediately, she jumped up and stood in front of Dante. “Draco!” she screamed loudly, making Dante start and begin to cry.

Narcissa tried to look past her to the now sobbing baby. “Please, can I see him?” she asked quietly.

“Draco!” Hermione yelled again, louder, ignoring Narcissa’s request.

Draco ran in moments later. “Hermione, what’s-Mother?” His mouth dropped at the sight of his mother standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. “How did you get here?”

“I brought her,” Dumbledore said, coming in the kitchen behind him. “I’m so sorry, Hermione, I thought you were upstairs. I asked Mrs. Malfoy to wait in the living room.”

Hermione didn’t move from her position in front of Dante. “Why is she here?”

“I’d like to see my grandson,” Narcissa answered. Her pale eyes flicked from Hermione to Draco. “Draco, please.”

Draco’s mouth moved, but no sound came out, so Hermione turned to Dumbledore. “No. I don’t trust her. She could poison him, apparate away with him.”

“Narcissa Malfoy has made an Unbreakable Vow to me that she will not harm Dante, nor will she tell her husband she has seen him,” Dumbledore told her.

“I don’t care,” Hermione said stubbornly. “She’d probably die to see him dead.”

Draco looked at her, eyes pleading. “Hermione, if she’s taken a vow-“

“No,” Hermione said again as Dante’s wailing got louder. She turned around and picked Dante up, quickly leaving the room. Professor Dumbledore followed her into the living room; where she put Dante down to change him.

“I’ve given her Veritaserum, Hermione,” the old wizard told her. “She’s taken a vow. I whole heartedly believe she means Dante no harm.”

“I can’t take a chance, Professor. You must understand that.”

“I understand your concern, Hermione, but I would not have brought her here if I could not be certain of her motives.”

Hermione didn’t answer; she finished changing Dante and held him close to her.

“Hermione?” Draco appeared behind Professor Dumbledore. “She’s just here to see Dante, she won’t hurt him. I spoke with her.”

Hermione angrily brushed a tear out of her eye. “Draco, I can’t take that chance.”

“Do you think I would put Dante in danger?” Draco asked quietly. Hermione hesitated before shaking her head. “Hermione, he’s her grandson.”

“Your father’s grandson as well,” Hermione snapped at him.

Draco flinched. “She’s not like my father.” He put his arm out. “Let me have Dante.”

Hermione tried desperately to hold back her tears. “Only if you promise to keep one hand on him at all times. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he said and Hermione reluctantly handed him the baby. As he walked back into the kitchen Hermione sank into a chair, crying in earnest.

Professor Dumbledore patted her arm. “She came to me a week ago, desperate. She’s lost everything, her husband to a madman, her son and now her grandson. Everyone deserves a second chance, Hermione.”

“She would never accept me,” Hermione said. “She’d try to get Draco to leave me and steal Dante away.”

“Do you think that your husband would do that?” Dumbledore asked calmly.

“No,” Hermione sniffed, her tears abating.

“I think Mrs. Malfoy has reached the point where she would learn to accept you, not doing so would alienate her from her son and grandson. I don’t think she’d take that risk,” Professor Dumbledore went on. “Would you like to check on Dante?” Hermione nodded and she and Professor Dumbledore made their way back towards the kitchen. Hermione just peeked through the door to see Narcissa smiling through tears as she held Dante, who was giggling and grabbing at her earrings. Draco was smiling at them both, all the while holding on to Dante’s foot as he promised. Hermione went back into the living room to wait.

After about 15 minutes Draco came in with his mother and Dante. The older woman’s eyes met Hermione’s briefly. “Thank you,” she said stiffly and held Dante out for Hermione to take. Hermione nodded and took Dante back into her arms.

“Mother and I are going to talk for a while,” Draco told her, and the two walked into the hallway, presumable upstairs.

Ginny and Ron came downstairs a few moments later. “Was that Narcissa Malfoy in your room?” Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. “Professor Dumbledore brought her here to see Dante.”

“Why’s she in your room?”

“Privacy, I guess. Draco hasn’t spoken to his mother in months except for a few brief letters.” Hermione put Dante into Ginny’s waiting arms.

“It’s only fair. Your parents have seen Dante loads of times,” Ginny said, wriggling her fingers at Dante, who gurgled at her.

“I’d hardly call 4 times loads,” Hermione argued

Ron leaned in to look at Dante, who grabbed a large handful of his red hair and began screeching in pleasure.

“Hermione, get him off me!” Ron yelled, desperately trying to remove his hair from Dante’s slippery clutches.

Hermione stifled a laugh as she worked Ron’s hair out of Dante’s hand. “Stop being a baby, Ronald.”

“You deserve it,” Ginny told him coolly. “Always glaring at him.”

“I don’t glare at him, he glares at me!”

“He’s a baby; he can’t glare,” Ginny walked away with Dante on her shoulder.

“Grow up, Ron,” Hermione rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen to clean up her earlier mess. She had just finished when Draco came up behind her.

“You finished here? I want to speak with you,” he said.

“Is your mother gone?” Hermione responded, wiping down the table.

“Dumbledore left with her a few minutes ago,” Draco answered.

“I don’t trust her, Draco. I don’t care what Professor Dumbledore says.”

“I trust her. She’s my mother.”

“She hates me!” Hermione snapped, throwing down the sponge she was using. “She could barely look at me. I don’t care if Dante is her grandchild, I won’t have her around him, feeding hate into him.”

“She won’t do that,” Draco said calmly.

“It will be obvious to him when he’s older that she hates me.” Draco didn’t reply which made her even angrier. “What did she say to you upstairs?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

“What did she say?” Hermione was yelling now.

“Let’s talk about this later. You’re upset from the visit as it is,” Draco said, beginning to leave, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

“Tell me now.”

“She thought that if I took Dante and left with her that she could convince my father to accept him,” Draco said, looking down at where she was holding his arm.

“Took him from me, you mean,” Hermione said, letting go of him as if he burned.

Draco’s eyes finally locked on hers. “Yes,” he said.

Hermione quickly left the room. “Ginny!” she called out.

“Up here!” Ginny’s voice rang from upstairs.

“Do you still have Dante?”

“Yes, he’s asleep. Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine, just checking.” She turned to find Draco right behind her.

“Did you think that I gave him to her?” He glared at her, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Did I say that? Maybe I was just making sure she didn’t grab him from the living room as she left,” Hermione pushed past him and up the stairs. She tried to close the bedroom door but he had followed her and slammed it open.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said in a low voice. “It actually crossed your mind that I would do that.” His voice was like ice.

“Yes, alright? It did. Why wouldn’t it? You completely ignored my wishes regarding her contact with Dante and you want me to let a woman who can’t stand to look at me have access to my child!” Hermione raged at him. “And don’t remind me that she’s your mother, I know that!”

“She would never hurt Dante!” His calm demeanour had broken, and Draco was yelling back.

“She would hurt me though. It would suit her purposes fine if I fell off a cliff. How can you not understand this?” Hermione felt tears of rage threatening to surface.

“Is everything alright?” Harry stood at their door. Both Draco and Hermione glanced at him, but neither responded.

When Draco spoke again, his voice was much calmer. “If you had bothered to listen instead of jumping to conclusions, I would have told you what else my mother said. As it is, I don’t feel like talking to you anymore right now.” He turned and walked quickly past Harry and down the stairs.

Hermione dropped onto the bed as he went and Harry came inside the room. “I heard Narcissa Malfoy was here,” he said. “Sorry I wasn’t here for that.”

“Did you know she was coming?” Hermione asked him.

“I knew it was a possibility,” Harry told her honestly.

“You could have warned me,” Hermione said miserably.

“You would have just gotten all worked up about it. We agreed to wait and see.”

“We? You mean Draco knew too?”

“I meant Professor Dumbledore. As far as I know, all Malfoy knew was that she wanted to visit. She said so, in her letters.” Harry said quickly.

“I thought we were done with this ages ago,” Hermione said, her anger depleting slightly. “I thought he understood.”

“About his father, yes. You have to admit, Hermione, we don’t know his mother.”

“I met her once,” Hermione told him. “She was nice to me, but she didn’t know who I was.”

“I’m just saying that you don’t even know what he wants. You didn’t give him a chance to tell you. He gave up an awful lot.”

“Why is everyone always reminding me of how much he gave up?” Hermione said angrily. “I’m not exactly on an island cruise.”

“No, but you are surrounded by friends and family who love you. That means a lot.”

Hermione didn’t answer, knowing he was right. “Since when are you on his side?” she said instead.

“I’m not, per se. I just know you tend to be a bit…judgemental.” Harry patted her shoulder.

Hermione groaned. “I guess now I have to go apologise.”

“I believe so,” Harry smiled at her.

“I hate apologising,” she muttered, standing up. “I’m a little right, aren’t I?”

“Just go,” Harry pushed her a little, and she went downstairs to search for her husband.


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