Keeping Promises

Staring up into the dark sky as snow fell prettily around her, Hermione’s lips turned up into a wry smiled as she stood on the Weasley’s front door. “Merry Christmas, Daddy,” she muttered. “I’m sorry I’ll have to break my promise.”

Her father had been dead for the past six years, and the last thing he asked for her to do was get married before she turned thirty. She would preferably start a family, too, but he wasn’t all that picky. She had instantly agreed; after all, at the time she was dating Ron, and everyone thought that they were going to get married, so she didn’t think that it would be a problem. And even if they broke up, she had twelve years. It was no big deal to her, but apparently it was to Jonathan Granger.

Then, of course, she had broken up with Ron because he hadn’t really cared about her and what she wanted, both in and out of the bedroom. He wanted to marry and impregnate her before her twentieth birthday, but she wanted to have a long engagement, maybe a year or two, before waiting a year or two to have children. He also thought that being the head solicitor of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wasn’t a proper aspiration for a witch.

Needless to say, two years later – about the same time that Ron had predicted they’d be married with one kid and one on the way – she was head solicitor. And that was also about the same time that Hermione’s mother had died.

When Jeannette Granger died, she took the promise Hermione had made to her dad and took it another step further. “I’m worried that you’ll get caught up in work and forget to take care of yourself,” she had rasped on her deathbed. “Promise me that you’ll at least be engaged by the time you turned twenty-five.” At first Hermione was insulted that her mother thought that she wouldn’t be engaged by the time she was twenty-five. But then she thought about it: she was twenty, had five years, and was seriously dating Draco Malfoy. So she had agreed, and her mother had died in peace. Her father, she was sure, was amused up in Heaven at how things were turning out.

“Which brings me to today,” Hermione whispered to herself and she raised a hand to knock. Twenty-four years old and single, she mused, her thoughts straying to the aforementioned boyfriend who had walked out a month prior because his parents planned to disinherit him if he married her.

She understood. Really. If she stood to inherit a vault of galleons worth at least sixty-million pounds, twenty houses, and over four hundred other pricey items that she could never afford in her wildest dreams, she would break up with her boyfriend, too. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Hermione, dear! It’s about time. Come in, will you?” Mrs. Weasley cheerfully answered the door. “Really, dear, you know you don’t have to knock. Just come on in. Everyone else does.” She hustled and bustled around her adopted daughter, and inwardly frowned at the sadness she saw there. It was easy to see that she still wasn’t over Draco. Maybe she never would be.

Anita, Bill and Fleur’s little girl, ran to her Auntie Nee and threw her arms around her legs. Hermione picked the five year old up and twirled her around, making both of them laugh with joy. “Happy Christmas, Anita!” she cried and she set the little blonde girl down.

Looking up, she was engulfed by a sea of red-headed hugs: Ginny and Harry, Ron and Lavender, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and Adelaide – his Romanian wife of four years – Fred and Angelina, George and Katie, Percy and Penelope, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They were all here, and they were all couples. She felt like the odd one out, the one without a date who was relegated to play with the children when it got to be too couple-y.

Which, of course, was what she was. Without Draco, she was alone, and it scared her. He had been her everything for five years, and now she was without him. It was terrible.

She let herself be distracted by the children. Anita was the oldest at five; Max, Chrissy, Gideon, Helen, and Elisabeth were all three; Will and Alexia were two; and Eddy, Sam, and Annie were one. Lavender was pregnant with her and Ron’s third child – their first two were Elisabeth and Sam – and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little bit of resentment at her former roommate. She and Fleur both possessed the amazing power to look better than ever while pregnant.

I will never look that good pregnant, she accepted while trying to hide the sad sigh that threatened to overwhelm her as the family opened presents. When Anita tugged at her leg, though, she pulled herself out of her thoughts and asked, “Yes, darling?”

“Can I open your present next, Auntie Nee?” the adorable little girl asked.

Hermione couldn’t stop the smile from bubbling forth. “Of course. Why don’t you go and get it from under the tree?” The words were barely out of her mouth when Anita practically ran to the tree and went digging for the much longed for present.

Suddenly, she piped up, “Auntie Nee! Can I bring you this present for you?”

Confusedly, Hermione called back an affirmative answer and looked questioningly around at the adults. Like in years past, they had complied with her request to have a donation made to the Home for War Orphans instead of a present wrapped under the tree. So who could be giving her a present?

Wait a moment, her sharp brain called out. Harry won’t meet my eye. And it was true. Her best friend the war hero wouldn’t meet her eye while the rest of the room was staring intently at the small, square box Anita had just placed in her hand. But what could it be? And did Harry give it to her?

Shaking her head to clear it, Hermione gave the box a good, hard look. The top was about four square inches and the box was approximately two inches high. It was wrapped in soft blue paper, her favorite color exactly, and a light green silk ribbon was wrapped around it. Smoothly she pulled the ribbon open and took the top of the box off only to find a folded piece of parchment and another box.

Before opening the parchment, she took the second box out and held it in her palm. It was soft black velvet that hinged on one side, and she was about to open it when Anita piped up, “Auntie Nee, aren’t you going to read the card? Mummy says to always read the card first.”

With a smile to her little “niece” and “sister-in-law,” Hermione responded, “Yes, of course, your Mummy’s very right.”

She opened the card and saw with surprise that it was a picture and headline from The Daily Prophet. It was a picture of the Malfoy family – Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco – at a recent family dinner at a posh restaurant on Terrace Square, the upscale section of Diagon Alley. Draco looked a little bit pissed off, at least in her own personal opinion, and the headline was “Trouble in Familial Paradise?”

Across the picture, “TRUE” was handwritten in bright green ink. Hermione smiled to herself; she knew the gift was from Draco. It was game they had played some lazy Sunday mornings, guessing which headlines and stories were true and which were false. Ignoring the questions from the Weasley family gathered around her, she opened the box.

There, sitting in a bed of white silk, was the most beautiful diamond ring she had ever seen in her entire life. It was a moderately sized diamond set in a platinum band; simple, yet elegant.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she beheld the ring. The instant she picked it up and held it in front of her face, every female in the family – and Fred and George, but they were being sarcastic – went “aww,” but she was oblivious. “Does this mean what I think it means?” she asked quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

“If you’ll still have me, that is,” came a masculine voice that only belonged to one person.

Every head in the room, asides from the babies, whipped to the corner where the voice had come from. But the only person that Draco saw looking at him was Hermione.

Some of her curls had come undone from her bun and were framing her face, which was quickly becoming covered in tears. Her chocolate colored eyes were shiny with the tears, and her plump lips trembled as she tried to hold back sobs.

Immediately he ran to her and knelt at her feet (Where did Anita go? Hermione asked herself). “Please, baby, please don’t cry,” he begged, completely unaware that Ron’s mouth had dropped open in surprise that a Malfoy had begged.

She choked back her tears and smiled a little. “But your parents, your inheritance, I thought – ”

“I told them to shove it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I love you, and I want to marry you, and if they won’t give up their prejudices, then that’s their issue.”

Wide eyes and complete silence from the rest of the family – asides from the babies, of course, because they didn’t know better – greeted this little speech. “But Draco, you’re not giving up a hundred pounds. You’re giving up, well, I won’t say it, but so much more,” she finally managed to whisper.

He flashed a handsome smile. “That’s my Hermione, always the practical one. But, sweetheart, love isn’t practical.” She frowned, biting her lower lip. Finally, he leaned forward and took her hands in his, saying, “Besides, it turns out that Mother supports us and told me that if I wanted to marry you, she’d give me some of the money from her personal vault if she couldn’t convince Father to cave. She uses that money to buy his birthday and Christmas presents, and as long as he doesn’t support us, he doesn’t get his presents.”

A little gasp was the only response. The silence continued on for a few more moments while Hermione and Draco drank in each other’s appearance and Hermione let the information settle. After about three minutes, Harry stage whispered, “Ask her already!”

Draco jumped a bit and snatched the ring out of Hermione’s hand. As he situated himself on one knee and present the ring with a flourish, he asked, “Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me? Will you be my wife? Will you bear my children? Will you – ”

But his speech was cut off by a jubilant Hermione launching herself at him and thrusting the ring on her ring finger before kissing him soundly. After the initial shock wore off, Draco wrapped his arms around her and their kisses turned from fevered to passionate to sweet to wet, from the tears of happiness.

Later that night, after properly welcoming Draco back to the flat they had shared for the past two years, Hermione snuck out of bed and to the window to watch the snow fall. Merry Christmas, Mum and Dad, she thought.

One Year Later

“Draco, can you please take Marie for a bit?” Draco held the six-month-old baby just a little bit awkwardly. He was just starting to get the hang of the whole Daddy-thing, but babies were still different then six-year-olds like Anita.

The sound of his wife’s bubbly laughter caused his attention to be pulled to the doorway where she stood holding their three-week-old daughter, Noelle. “Now, Draco, we talked about this,” she teased. “No borrowing Ron and Lavender’s children.”

Draco laughed, like she meant him to, and beckoned her forward so that he could give both of his girls a kiss on the cheek. “So sorry, love. Here, why don’t we trade?” he offered, and she accepted, if only to see her handsome husband shower their beautiful daughter with love.

“Come on, Marie,” she cooed to the baby after a few moments. “Let’s go find your Mummy and Gran.” They went into the kitchen of the Burrow and joined the Weasley women as they stood and sat around and gossiped.

A very pregnant Ginny spied her friend and asked, “Oi, Hermione, at this time last year did you ever think that in a year you’d be married and a Mummy?”

Laughing a little, Hermione passed Marie off to Lavender, and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Heck no,” she said, censoring her language in case any little ear should hear and repeat. “I mean, a year ago I thought that I’d break my promise to my mum and I’d still be single come September. “

“But then again, she is the only person who can possibly plan and execute her own wedding in two and a half months,” Katie pointed out, and others laughed.

“Well, yes,” Hermione conceded. “But I mean, I always thought that I’d be engaged for a bit and then I’d wait a bit longer before getting pregnant.”

No one had time to respond to that comment, as Fred, George, Max, and Gideon all stepped in the kitchen at that moment to insist that it be time to open presents. As she followed the others out, Hermione found herself at the back of the pack, along with Ginny, who whispered, “Then again, when two people shag like rabbits you’re bound to get pregnant.”

Hermione slapped her friend playfully on the shoulder while trying to hold back giggles, and Ginny threw her hands up in desperation, saying, “Hey, I just speak from personal knowledge.”

Rolling her eyes at her friend – after muttering, “Too much information,” of course – Hermione joined Draco, Noelle, and the entire Weasley clan for a quiet Christmas evening.

Up in Heaven, Jonathan Granger nudged his wife and said, “Sweetheart, look how happy Hermione is!”

Smiling smugly, she said, “Yes, I know, and it’s all because of the promise I made her make.”

Her husband snorted but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to kiss her cheek and look down at his daughter from above. “Merry Christmas, Hermione.”