Come Let Us Adore Him

December 13, 2018

“A toast to Ranking Member Draco Malfoy!” Hermione cheered, drawing an inordinately pleased scoff from Draco. Despite his fake protest, he tapped his glass of champagne against Hermione’s.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Hermione couldn’t stop smiling. “Did you tell your parents?”

Draco shook his head. “They have Google alerts with my name, so I’m sure they already know. I was swept up in celebration before I could even think about calling them, honestly.”

“Do you want to call them now?”

“I do,” Draco nodded, smiling at Hermione as he dialed his mother’s number. The Malfoy pair was already back in North Carolina for the holidays, having flown out earlier that day.

“Draco! Congratulations,” Narcissa greeted warmly when she picked up. The news had broken soon after their departure that the House Republicans had chosen their ranking members for the next Congress, so Draco didn’t even have a chance to surprise his parents. Regardless, it seemed like they’d been waiting for his call.

“Son,” Lucius greeted, the slight tinniness of the call quality making it clear the phone was now on speaker. “We’re very proud of you; you deserve this.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. Their love for Draco was evident in the moment, and despite her happiness for him, she also felt a hole in her chest at this realization. She’d never experienced that sort of excitement from her mom and dad at even her most meaningful accomplishments.

“Oh, Draco! You deserve this so much… How are you celebrating?” Narcissa asked.

His smile was fond as he took Hermione’s hand and balanced his phone on his thigh. “Hermione made a beautiful dinner, we’ve just finished eating and are now drinking champagne before I fly out tomorrow.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Narcissa replied. Lucius was quiet. “You’re certain she can’t join us over the holidays?”

Both Draco and Hermione looked surprised at that offer.

“Hermione is spending the holidays in Seattle,” Draco replied. “But there’s a chance she’ll visit over the new year if I don’t head back to DC.”

“Lovely! Tell her that we wish her a merry Christmas.”

Draco waved his hand towards Hermione.

“Thank you, Narcissa, I appreciate it. I hope you have a lovely Christmas as well!”

Hermione had to stop herself from saying happy holidays in order to not repeat what they’d just said.

God only knows how Lucius would feel about that phrase. He was almost certainly a leader in the war against the ‘war against Christmas,’ if you truly considered that a thing.

“Oh, hi Hermione!” the woman replied. “Thank you for taking care of our boy and making sure he’s properly celebrated.”

Hermione laughed a bit, “He deserves it! And I’m sure he won’t say no to a second celebration when he’s back in Charlotte.”

Even Lucius laughed at that, however stifled it was… it was laughter. She had to stop herself from pumping a fist in the air. Baby steps.

“Certainly. Make sure to call your sister, Draco. She performed two operations today, so I’m sure she hasn’t seen the news.”

“Yes, father,” Draco replied dutifully.

“We’ll see you soon, son.”

“We love you,” Narcissa’s smile was evident through the phone. Hermione’s heart ached.

“I love you too, see you soon.”

Draco called Columba immediately, and Hermione felt close to tears as the older woman’s enthusiastic praise echoed through the phone.

Was it the champagne? Or was it the realization that she had no one in her family who’d be just as happy over her accomplishments?

“What’s wrong?”

Hermione jumped, sucking in a huge breath as Draco’s voice shattered her inner spiral. Clearly he’d finished the call while she was throwing herself a pity party and being terribly rude to Columba.

“Nothing.”

No one was more surprised to find that Hermione was crying than… Hermione.

Draco was quick to react, placing his champagne flute down and pulling her onto his lap. He stroked her hair like she was a precious kitten, and that only made her cry harder.

“Sorry,” she sobbed, feeling even worse at the realization that she was hijacking Draco’s night.

“Sh, none of that… You’re okay, sweetheart,” Draco crooned, keeping up his pets and soft whispers until Hermione had a grip on herself.

“Sorry,” she whispered, sniffling pitifully. She was such a mess! “I’m sorry.”

“Can you stop apologizing, sweetheart?” Draco asked in a tone that was far more gentle than she deserved.

“No,” Hermione replied petulantly, rubbing her wet eyes on Draco’s shirt before realizing she still had mascara on. “Sorry.”

That one deserved an apology, even if he wouldn’t notice the mess she’d made until later.

“What’s got you all sad?”

She took a deep breath, trying not to cry again.

“The holidays make me mopey, and hearing your family’s joy for you just brought all of those feelings out. I’m sorry,” she repeated, but really… she was. Her baggage was a lot for anyone to handle, let alone someone like Draco whose family was nowhere near as fractured as hers.

Draco just pulled her into an even tighter embrace, and she thought it’d be nice to never leave this spot.

“I’m not sure if you heard me, but stop apologizing, sweetheart. You don’t need to apologize for how you feel, especially when something’s got you this torn up,” Draco’s tone was gentle. “Now, I have to ask… if you feel this way, why are you flying back to Seattle?”

“My grandparents asked,” she replied. “They took me in… It’s a weird cycle, honestly. They invite me home on holidays because they feel obligated and then I visit because I feel similarly obligated and we skirt around each other the whole time.”

Draco made a noise of thought, “Are they just not loving? You never talk about them… or talk to them, honestly.”

“They love me,” Hermione defended immediately before relaxing. This was Draco. She had no need to be uptight and closed off about this. “They just didn’t expect our relationship to be more than stop-ins every few weeks and on holidays. Or to have their adult daughter needing their help like she was a child again.”

“As always, my first inclination is to fix this for you, but I can’t. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’ve been through so much... All I can tell you is that I’m never going to tell you whether or not to talk to your family. Regardless of how close my family is, I don’t expect yours to be the same. Your familial relationships are no indication of who you are.”

“Most people put stock in them,” Hermione frowned. “Your family will think I’m emotionally stunted and could never be a good mother.”

She blushed when she realized what she brought up.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to bring that up.”

Draco kissed her temple, “If you apologize again I’m going to start crying. I promise you that they will think nothing of the sort. You are loving, smart, and loyal. When the time comes, you’ll be an amazing mother. There is no question in my mind.”

Hermione’s brain switched from her mess of a family to their future family like she had the brain capacity of a goldfish.

“You think so?” she asked. ‘You want to have kids with ME?’ was left unsaid. She already sounded desperate enough without piling that on top of him. This conversation was already one that might send him running. And if it did… she wouldn’t blame him.

“I know so, love. I hope you have no problem with blond babies because the Malfoy genes are far too strong, but yes… I can already picture you as the best mom to our children.”

“I’m caught between images of you as the soccer coach for our son’s team and you buying our daughter a pony after she mentions wanting to ride one once,” Hermione giggled.

Draco laughed, a happy, free sound as though he was relieved the floodgates on the ‘kids conversation’ were finally open. Clearly, it’d been on both of their minds, especially after their heavy talk on the fate of Andromeda’s first child.

“Why not both? Someone needs to handle the extracurriculars while you’re fighting their teachers on a subpar grade on the styrofoam planet you helped them create.”

“Our kids won’t get subpar grades,” she shook her head. Absolutely not.

“Sounds like a dream to me,” Draco smiled before rolling his eyes fondly. “You have a really bad habit of getting highly-principled conversationalists like me off topic.”

She shrugged, unrepentant. “My mind goes a million miles a minute… I can’t stay on topic.”

“Well, thankfully opposites attract. If you want to come to Charlotte for Christmas, you’re more than welcome. Dove would be overjoyed, and so would mother. It’s Auntie Walburga’s year to host, which means dinner will be served an hour late and undercooked. Or catered; God, I pray it’s catered.”

Hermione laughed, “That’s Sirius’ mom, right?”

“Right. The family’s only saving grace is his brother Regulus, who’s another example of greatness coming from less than stellar parents. Well, his father’s fine... Money can’t buy sanity, unfortunately.”

“You’re selling Christmas in Charlotte well,” Hermione smiled, knocking her forehead softly against Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I need to go home… see my mom, check in with my grandparents.”

“Are you going to tell them about us?”

Hermione nodded, “I’ll tell them that I’m dating someone, but they won’t ask more than that.”

“Sweetheart… you don’t think they’ll have worries about your much older boyfriend?”

Well, when he put it like that…

“They don’t care about anything else in my life, so why would they care about this?” She tried to sound matter-of-fact and not bitter.

Draco lifted his hands up in a placating measure. “I’m just trying to reason this out with you, baby. You need to be prepared for their questions.”

Hermione nodded, knowing he was right.

“I’ll be ready, I just think it’s a bit obscene for them to care about this when they don’t even see fit to ask about my life in general.”

“I agree with you, just… try and be ready for pushback, okay? The holidays put people into argumentative states sometimes.”

“Thank you for looking out for me,” Hermione smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to Draco’s lips.

He was a good man, and she was more grateful for him than words could ever articulate.

xxxxxx

December 23

All was not merry and bright at the Millen household. Hermione had arrived to her grandparents’ house over 36 hours ago, and had spent less than an hour with her relatives outside of meals.

Her mom had also not shown up to any meals, and Hermione’s grandmother waved it off as a common occurrence.

Really? What had Hermione even traveled across the country for if her mom was MIA?

The answer… to spend almost two days bored out of her mind, trying not to text Draco or Pansy SOS messages she knew they’d be all too thrilled to reply to.

All of her local friends were out of town skiing too, so there was literally no one she could call to save her from the painful company of three non-working adults who apparently wanted nothing to do with her or each other. So she decided to take matters into her own hands after yet another dinner that her mom didn’t show up to.

“So, how are you doing dear?” her grandmother asked with a smile. “Sorry we were so quiet last night… it’s been a tough few days for your grandpa and I.”

“I understand,” Hermione forced herself to smile. “I appreciate you having me here.”

“Tell us about how things are going… you look older, fancier…”

“Different!” her grandfather interjected.

“Different,” the old woman agreed.

“Well,” Hermione smiled. “I was just offered a promotion. Congressman Potter will serve as Chairman of the Energy and Commerce Committee in the new year-”

Her grandfather coughed, “Enough of that highbrow mumbo jumbo… Tell us what you’ve been up to.”

She swallowed her irritation at being cut off instead of congratulated about her accomplishments. This was the exact reason why she shared nothing with her grandparents; they didn’t understand, and they didn’t care to try.

“I’m still living with Pansy near the Capitol and it’s lovely. She’s a great roommate, and I’ve made a few good friends through work. I’m also seeing someone.”

“Oh? Tell us about him?”

Hermione was spurred on by her grandmother’s tepid interest.

“Of course. Well… he’s a bit older than me.”

“By how much?” her grandfather asked, shoveling another mouthful of rice into his mouth.

She was calm as she spoke. “18 years.”

“Lord above!” her grandmother yelped. “Is this why you’re so well-dressed?”

“Excuse me?”

She was literally wearing leggings! Did her grandmother really recognize a Goyard bag enough to surmise that she’d leveled up her wardrobe?

“Is he one of those lonely types who pays young women for company? We read the news on Facebook, you know,” her grandmother’s expression was pinched, and she looked exactly like her daughter in that moment.

“No, grandma. He’s a nice man who I get along with well.”

She wasn’t even going to touch the ‘we get our news on Facebook’ comment.

“Is he married?” her grandfather asked bluntly. Her grandmother looked scandalized, and Hermione felt sick.

“No! Of course not! How can you even suggest such a thing?”

“You’ve always been a bit naive, Hermione. A man that much older than you probably only wants one thing. As soon as he’s tired of it, he’ll go back to his wife, or find some other young thing,” her grandfather continued.

“He’s not married! And he’s not like that, at all! He’s a good, decent man.” She felt her cheeks burn in anger and frustration at their response and their awful assumptions about Draco.

“I don’t know what to say to all of this…” her grandmother said, still looking shocked, as if she believed her husband’s assumptions over her granddaughter’s statements.

“Take a breath, Maureen,” her grandfather patted his wife on the arm. “It’s hard for us, Hermione. You show up with a fancy government job, new clothes and an older boyfriend? It’s a lot for anyone to take in.”

“I understand,” Hermione forced a smile. “We barely talk as is, I’m sure this is all a shock to you.”

“It is,” Maureen agreed easily. “Your life doesn’t make much sense to us, but we’re here when you need us. Just… be careful? Older men like that are nothing but trouble, and we’re too far to help you when something goes wrong.”

“She’s right. Even if he’s giving you money, it’s not worth it. A dress can be replaced, your reputation can’t.”

Her grandfather’s face was now just as cold as his wife’s. It didn’t leave Hermione feeling any closer to the pair than she did walking in.

“I appreciate your concern, but like I said… he’s a good man.”

“Whatever you say,” her grandfather muttered.

She left dinner feeling more distant from her grandparents than she had going in. Shouldn’t they be excited about her being in a relationship? Shouldn’t they want to know all about him? Make the same leaps to her getting married and having children that her friends’ grandparents did? It seemed like nothing was ever going to be normal for her when it came to familial bonds.

Later that night, Hermione decided that since she’d broken the news to her grandparents, she might as well take another bullet to the heart and talk to her MIA mother. She knocked on the bedroom door, knowing her voice would ring clear in the otherwise silent home.

“Mom? Do you have time to talk?”

“Come in,” the woman sighed. Was she sleeping? At 7pm?

Hermione was coming from the east coast where it was three hours later and she wasn’t even tired yet.

After growing up with the woman who taught Hermione what it meant to be meticulously clean, it was tough to hide her disgust and shock at the clothes and boxes that were stacked all over the bedroom. This person was not the mother she grew up with.

“Sit down,” Jillian Millen Granger said, gesturing vaguely at the room, as if a chair would somehow appear.

Where was Hermione supposed to sit? The unmade bed that had wet towels strewn over it? The pile of clothes on the floor?

“I’m set,” Hermione replied. “We just… haven’t talked in a while. I have questions.”

The woman sighed, “I’m sure you do… have you talked to daddy?”

Hermione grimaced. She hadn’t called her father ‘daddy’ since she was four.

“I haven’t talked to dad, no. I’ve written him often without reply.”

Clearly the bitterness she felt seeped into her tone.

“You can’t take it too personally, Hermione. This has been hard on all of us.”

All of us? She was the child who was thrust into their life just on the basis of being born to these two!

“I don’t think it’s fair to group us all into the same category here,” Hermione replied, trying to rein her temper in.

Jillian Granger shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Hermione.”

“You were doing so well.”

“Until I wasn’t. This life is hard… I’m trying my best to just get by,” Jillian replied, not a shred of emotion in her voice.

That just riled Hermione up even more.

“It would be nice to hear that you’re okay every once in a while. You couldn’t have called me to tell me you weren’t doing well? Or called grandma and grandpa?”

“To say what? This is about my life, not yours…”

“Don’t you understand that this isn’t always about you, mom?”

“Clearly,” the woman sighed, not even raising her voice to match Hermione’s. It was like she’d given up completely. “Nothing has ever been about me, your father, you, work…”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have had a child if it was that much of a burden!” Hermione shrieked, temper getting the best of her in the way it always seemed to.

Her mother snorted, “We weren’t exactly trying, Hermione.”

“Excuse me?”

“You… were a surprise.”

The room was quiet for a beat as Hermione thought through what could be used in lieu of surprise.

“A mistake?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” the woman flicked her wrist towards Hermione as though this were a conversation about the sky being blue and grass being green. “Plenty of children are mistakes. We kept you, though, didn’t we? Raised you with new clothes, three square meals, all of the books you could ever want...”

“What’s wrong with you?” Hermione asked, lip trembling.

“I’m going through withdrawals, my husband is in jail, my parents treat me like a prisoner, my daughter’s here harping at me… what am I missing?”

“I- I’m sorry you’re dealing with so much. But it’s not just about you. I needed you too and you abandoned me; I was just a little girl and you shut me off from getting help with every lie you told to grandma and grandpa, my teachers, other parents... When you have a child, wanted or not, you have an obligation to them. You and dad failed.”

“We’re years past it Hermione. What is the point of relitigating this? Do you have a device to turn back time?”

The younger woman let out a tense breath, voice garbled with tears when she spoke next.

“Do you even care about my life? About my job? That I have a boyfriend? That I’m living across the country alone and you’ve never once checked in to see where I’m living or if everything is going well?”

Jillian slapped a hand to her forehead. There was no anger in her next words, only exhaustion. This wasn’t defensiveness; this was her mother severing what was left of their relationship without a fight. It was clear that Hermione was the only one who’d been fighting to keep their family bond alive, which only made this conversation more painful.

“Hermione… you’re an adult now. I see your texts… they make it clear how great your life is. I’m sure your emails to your father are the same. It’s obvious that you are doing well for yourself, so why would I ask if you need help?”

“Because that’s what parents are supposed to do!” Hermione replied, trying to hide her pitiful, sniffling sobs.

Her mom continued on as though she hadn’t spoken, “Look… we are happy you’ve landed on your feet, but that isn’t the reality for all of us. And hearing you brag about your fancy job and new house and work Christmas parties is the last thing that I need. Honestly, that’s probably why your father isn’t replying to you. There’s only so much a person can take.”

There was a clear thought in her mind… there was no salvaging this relationship. Not for a long while, if ever. Her mom had made sure of that.

So she left the room without a word, doing her best to hid her sobs until she was back in the basement and falling onto the stiff bed she’d called her own since her parents left her many years ago.

There was a weird finality in the conversation Hermione just had with her mom, and despite the crushing weight of truth that it carried… there was immense relief. Relief to discover that she was as much a burden to her parents as they were to her.

She needed another opinion on this, and there was only one person who could be honest enough to be trusted.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Hermione replied, voice cracking on the single syllable.

“What’s wrong with you?” Pansy asked, stepping out from what was clearly a crowded room. “Sorry, we’re out at a bar. What’s going on?”

“My mom just told me that I was a mistake and that they never wanted kids.”

“Fuck that bitch,” Pansy replied with a scoff. “Seriously, Hermione. They give you no financial assistance, you have no communications with them, and they aren’t even an emotional outlet for you. Your parents are dead weight, and as much as society wants us to believe that all family relationships are to be cherished… we both know that isn't true.”

“So what now?” Hermione huffed in reply.

“So you get the hell out of there and come spend the holiday with Draco or me. Personally, I think that St. Bart’s is far better than North Carolina, but it’s up to you, sis.”

“I’d rather have my first time in the Caribbean be one where I don’t spend two days on a plane to get there,” Hermione frowned.

“I wish I could say that was a bad excuse, but shit. You’re right. Theo’s here, though,” Pansy replied.

“Oh, Pans… be careful,” Hermione warned before smiling softly. “And tell me everything.”

Pansy cackled, “I will. Call me back after you talk to Draco, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hermione replied.

“No more tears!” Pansy replied. “Save them for your very Malfoy Christmas dinner, your teary-eyed Bambi look might score you pity points.”

Hermione laughed at that.

xxxxxx

December 24, 2018

Hermione was exhausted by the time her plane landed, but begrudgingly grateful for Draco’s willingness to throw money at problems and pick her up at 5am instead of having her take a cab.

Not saying ‘I love you’ when she saw him leaning against his truck was almost impossible.

She didn’t even give him a chance to ask questions once they’d gotten back to his house, instead choosing to grab a shirt from his dresser and climb into his bed for a nap. Thankfully, Draco didn’t protest.

“Is it weird to be this happy after storming out on my family?” she asked, voice little more than a croaky after they finally woke up from a long morning nap. Crying always wrecked her voice.

“I don’t think so,” Draco replied, rolling over so that he was pressed right up against Hermione’s side, morning breath be damned. “Sometimes you don’t realize the emotional weight that relationships have on you until they’re severed.”

“I didn’t have this on my 2018 bingo card,” Hermione replied, drawing a surprised laugh from Draco.

“Your humor always shows up in the weirdest of times,” he murmured. “What do you want to do today?”

“Something Christmassy.”

“We can go to the Charlotte Christmas Village… there are a ton of baked goods and it’ll tickle all of your holiday fancies.”

Hermione snorted before sobering up. “Do you need to tell your family I’m here?”

Draco nodded, clearly putting on a brave face.

“I’ll call my mother this morning and let her deal with Aunt Walburga since they’re hosting dinner.”

“I don’t have to go to your dinner, Draco.”

He shook his head, “Actually, you do. Better to jump in the fire than dance around it and let it burn out of control, sweetheart. Especially since Columba will be there…”

“Will Sirius?”

Draco looked thoughtful, “Actually, I don’t know… he shows up when he needs money or to talk to father about a bill he’s advocating for, so Christmas before the start of a new Congress is always a possibility.”

“Hopefully he does and the heat is off of us.”

“We’ll be fine either way,” Draco promised. “Why don’t you see if Luna wants to come with us?”

“Oh, yes! I’ll go shower and text her,” Hermione smiled, kissing Draco before hopping off the bed.

xxx

“That was… illuminating,” Blaise said, pressing a hand to his forehead as they pulled into the large parking lot for the market. “Anyone have Advil?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Luna rolled her eyes as she opened her purse and threw a bottle towards her husband. “You’ve had every chance to learn the lyrics!”

“Luna, we don’t want to know the lyrics. If I never hear a song from Hamilton again, it’ll be too soon,” Draco replied. Blaise nodded fervently.

“Well thank the good Lord I have Hermione here then,” the blonde smiled, looping elbows with Hermione.

“I wish you knew her when you made us see it in New York,” Draco frowned. “We could’ve saved three hours of our life.”

“I almost left Draco when he told me how awful it was. You guys saw it with the original cast!” Hermione scoffed. “You should have to pass a test to even get into the theatre so that undeserving people like Draco can’t get tickets.”

“Sorry to break the bad news, but capitalism is the way of the world, sweetheart,” Draco winked, loving the angry scowl he got from Hermione. “If only we’d met a few years earlier…”

“We’ll have to go again,” Luna smiled, drawing groans from both Blaise and Draco. “Why don’t you two go grab hot chocolate? I want to see the gnome selection before the authentic ones are gone.”

“Yes, love,” Blaise replied dutifully, turning around and pulling Draco along before Hermione could even ask what an authentic gnome was.

“How are you, Hermione? I have to say I didn’t believe Draco when he said you weren’t coming. I had a hunch…”

“You can’t convince me that you’re not a psychic,” Hermione replied. “I’m okay… surprised to be here, a bit nervous about dinner tomorrow, grappling with family drama. The normal holiday feelings.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Luna sighed, voice kind enough to bring tears to Hermione’s eyes. “I’m so sorry that you’re going through so much, but I hope you know how loved you are by your found family. And you’ll have a tough time getting rid of us.”

“I do,” she replied, her smile watery as Luna pulled her up to the vendor selling handknit Christmas gnomes. “It’s just weird to finally let go in a way that I’ve always felt guilty of even thinking about. Society tells us that we’re blessed to have parents who are together and alive… I’m pretty sure they could do more when it comes to telling us that not all parents are good people and we don’t need to fight to keep them in our lives, you know?”

“I do,” Luna smiled. “My mom died when I was nine, and the amount of people who told my dad he needed to find a new wife for my sake was enough to drive him mad. People are not better because they’re married; there’s no magical covenant that makes them kinder or more patient or more wise.”

“That is exactly what I need to hear,” Hermione nodded. “I can’t believe they did that to your dad… even if they thought they were helping, it was wrong.”

“You also need to believe it,” the blonde replied knowingly. “Emotional wounds take time to heal, but thankfully love and trust are two of the strongest salves. And you have both of those in your life in abundance.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied, knowing that was enough for now. “What do you do with these gnomes?”

“Oh, I give them as gifts,” Luna smiled serenely. “Mrs. Malfoy has a whole gnome collection near their fireplace every Christmas, actually. She is always extremely excited to see the newest member of the family.”

Hermione had to hide a laugh at that. “They’re all so well-crafted… clearly a lot of love went into them.”

The gnomes were handknit and had fluffy, sagging hats and equally saggy beards. Their eyes were black buttons that reminded Hermione of Coraline. There was no way in hell she’d let them into her house.

“Yes, Hilda and Astrid are extremely talented. It looks like Hilda’s just finishing up with a customer now.”

“My beautiful moon!” an old, wrinkly woman smiled as she waddled over to Luna with the bells on her red santa coat jingling all the way. Her accent was deep, eastern European if Hermione wagered a guess, and her eyes were kind. “Are you here for the gnomes?”

“Hi Hilda,” Luna smiled, returning the woman’s hug with the same warmth. “This is my dear friend, Hermione. I wanted to bring her by to see the fruits of your labor!”

“So sweet, my Luna,” the woman replied, clasping her hands to her heart. “Miss Hermione, come around the table and I’ll show you our gnomes.”

Draco and Blaise were MIA the entire time they were at the booth, clearly knowing Luna well enough to stay away while Hilda shared the rich folklore surrounding Christmas gnomes.

Hermione learned something new, and was one thousand percent certain that Narcissa Malfoy would be completely perturbed by the idea of Christmas gnomes, which were ‘household spirits’ that, as the story goes, were responsible for the prosperity of the family they resided with. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Malfoys had a far-off storage locker solely that they entered twice a year… to take the gnomes in and out.

“Come visit us for dinner soon, Luna!” Hilda asked, waving a jiggly arm as the women walked away. Luna had a paper bag full to the brim with new gnomes on her arm, and Hermione had a red-hatted gnome that Hilda insisted she take as a gift of friendship.

“What’s taking Blaise and Draco so long?” Hermione asked.

Luna laughed, “They hate the gnomes. Blaise says they’re satanic and idolatrous, but I think he just doesn’t like classic holiday decor. He tried to buy a fake tree last year!”

Hermione nodded, too bad of a liar to disagree. The gnomes were pretty creepy.

“Ah, we were just coming to find you,” Blaise smiled from where they were conveniently waiting a few stands over.

“What serendipitous timing,” Luna smiled, placing her heavy bags into Blaise’s hands.

“I have a lot of questions,” Hermione murmured as Draco pulled her into a hug. His hair was obscured by a knit Tar Heels hat that he’d pulled low on his head and a scarf was wrapped around his neck.

Draco laughed, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose in the way that always made her feel like a fairy princess.

“Later,” he promised.

“Did you not get us hot chocolate?” she replied, pouting as she pulled back from their embrace and realized his hands were empty.

“The truck has mulled cider, so we wanted to see what you two would rather have before we made the decision for you.”

“Hot chocolate,” Hermione replied, drawing a smug smile from Draco that had her rolling her eyes. “Which you clearly guessed.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he replied, intertwining his hand with Hermione’s as he pulled her along to the truck proclaiming itself the carrier of piping hot drinks and the best strudels in North Carolina.

Hermione had to agree once she put a cherry strudel into her mouth for the first time.

“Is it bad to say that the only comparison I have for this is a cherry poptart?”

Blaise laughed, “I’m the only one here who will understand that reference, and I agree. These are much better.”

“Hey!” Draco replied. “I know what a poptart is.”

“But you’ve never had one,” Blaise finished, smirking as Draco hung his head in defeat. “Knew it.”

“Excuse me?” a soft voice asked, and the group turned around to see an old woman in an ugly Christmas sweater with two small children at her side.

Draco turned his charm on immediately.

“Hello, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“Oh, it is him!” the woman smiled. “Pete! C’mere! I told you.”

An old man in a flannel who was clearly pretending to check out a table full of homemade jewelry shuffled over.

“I told my husband Pete it was you, and he didn’t believe me. Kids, c’mere, this is a very important man…”

Hermione stepped back with Luna to watch as Blaise graciously took the woman’s phone to photograph their interaction with Draco. She felt her stomach clench as the blond crouched down to interact with the children who looked like they were three and five at her best guess. Of course she’d seen photos of Draco with kids, but seeing him in action? She loathed how 2013 it made her sound, but her ovaries were exploding.

After Blaise handed the woman what looked to be his business card, the small family walked away.

Draco was smiling as he walked back up to Hermione. “What a sweet family. Their daughter just went into labor with her third child so they’re watching these two for a few days.”

“That woman must’ve had eyes like a hawk to recognize you,” Hermione laughed.

“It’s the nose,” Draco sighed, rubbing a hand down the appendage as if she needed an explanation. “I was cursed with pointy, recognizable features.”

“Perfectly pointy,” Hermione reassured him, receiving a kiss on her own nose in return.

“Need anything else?” Draco asked.

“I’m good,” Hermione replied. She’d bought her gifts before coming out and had the foresight to send Luna and Draco’s presents to Charlotte before heading to Seattle. She’d also bought Blaise a bottle of whisky that Draco promised was his favorite and called it a day. Thankfully, male acquaintances were pretty easy to shop for.

“Hermione,” Luna said quietly as they neared Draco’s home. Blaise’s car was bigger than Draco’s, so they’d driven to the market. “Let me know if you need anything tomorrow, okay? Walburga told me a few years ago that she’s certain I’m a witch who’s going to shrivel into nothingness everytime I step into church, so I am more than happy to interrupt tomorrow night’s dinner if I need to.”

“I have so many questions,” Hermione replied, shaking her head before pulling Luna into a tight hug in the car. “But thank you. You are the best and I don’t know what I’d do without you, Luna.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she agreed. “I’ll be praying for you. Please text me and let me know how it goes.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to live updates, but if it does you’ll be the one receiving them.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Bye Hermione! Bye Draco!” The blond exclaimed as Hermione hopped out of the car with a wave to blaise.

“I love her,” Hermione sighed as she and Draco walked back into his house. The heat was blasting, and she didn’t realize how cold it was outside until she was warm again.

“Blaise is a lucky man.”

“How did they meet?”

“At the Carolinian Debutante Club,” Draco smirked. “It was Luna’s first and only time visiting. Some teacher at her school bamboozled her poor father into having her attend to show off what she’s learned at her etiquette lessons or something awfully patronizing like that. Blaise found her dancing barefoot outside and claims he fell in love then and there.”

“That’s so sweet! And so very Luna. Blaise seems good for her.”

“He is,” Draco agreed. “She is as free-spirited as a high-class southern woman can be, and he’s a gentleman and a softie. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more well-matched couple.”

“Oh!” Hermione let out a loud laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth. “The gnomes. I need to know all of your mom’s thoughts on the gnomes.”

“You mean the satanic dolls that are kept in storage containers in a shed until we know Luna’s coming over during the holiday season?”

“I knew it! Does Luna really think your mom likes them?”

“Mom thinks Luna is a sweetheart and would kill father for even insinuating that the dolls aren’t out all season. We do what we can to make Luna happy, and that’s bringing the dolls out one day a year. Mama and Columba were hoping that I’d marry her, actually.”

“What?” Hermione asked, eyes wide as she thought through that possibility.

“Her father has always been a part of our social circle, and they initially loved the idea of me marrying someone as blonde as we are. Then they got to know her, and fell even more in love. If the gnomes are all it takes to make Luna smile… mom is more than happy to oblige.”

“They really are scary, though,” Hermione couldn’t help but smile. The idea of Narcissa liking Luna enough to ruin the extremely classy decor in her house endeared her to Hermione even more. Anyone who loved Luna that much was tops in her book.

“If you think the gnomes are bad, wait until you see my aunt’s house,” Draco replied, shaking his head. “The tree in her front foyer is decorated with heads from her childhood dolls. It’s terrifying, but no one can convince her that it’s more scary than it is sentimental.”

“You’re selling your family Christmas really well.”

“You have no choice but to endure it,” Draco replied with the shake of his head. “We all suffer, but just think of how many stories you’ll have to tell on the other side!”

xxxxxx

December 25, 2018

“You are perfect,” Draco smiled, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s lips as he turned his car off. They were pulled up in a large half-circle driveway where a large number of cars were already parked.

She smiled shakily, looking down to make sure the long sleeve green dress that Pansy had gotten her for Christmas earlier in the month was still perfectly ironed.

“Columba and my parents are already here, everything will be fine,” Draco replied. “And if it’s not, just let my family sort it out. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione smiled shakily, waiting for Draco as he walked around the car to open her door and help her out of the truck. The last thing she needed was to break her foot in the heels she was wearing.

“Master Draco,” a very old man with large ears greeted as they entered the opulent old mansion. It was clear he’d been watching their approach.

“Mr. Kree, hope you’re doing well,” Draco greeted. “This is my girlfriend, Hermione.”

The man’s eyes widened, “Ah, yes… It is a pleasure to welcome you to Black Manor, miss.”

Hermione could tell Draco was trying not to roll his eyes at the man’s clear reverence for his employers. When she’d heard that the families employed housekeepers, she didn’t expect someone of this man’s clear subservient nature.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, allowing Draco to remove her coat and hand it to the man. It was hard not to let out a snort at the decorations; the live Christmas tree was indeed decorated with the heads of dolls and large, tacky flowers. It was the mark of a rich person who had no style whatsoever, and Hermione was even more excited to meet Walburga Black at this point.

“Everyone’s in the main sitting room, Master Draco,” the man nodded as he hobbled over to a closet with their jackets in tow.

“Thank you,” Draco replied, lowering his voice once they were farther away. “He’s worked here forever… we called him ‘creature’ as little kids, I think Regulus and Sirius still do, honestly.”

“That’s mean,” Hermione replied. “Poor guy.”

“He cried tears of joy the first time Sirius said it, actually, something about finally connecting with the heir to the Black fortune.”

“No comment,” Hermione replied, once again feeling weird about the potential of Sirius being there. It seemed that he turned out pretty well if this dreary, medieval home was where he was raised.

“Dragon!” Columba cried out as they finally found a room with people in it in the dark, windowless hallways that made up the Black manor. “Hermione!”

Hermione was relieved by the hug that she was dragged into. The slight floral scent of Columba was a balm to her soul.

“Hi Columba!” Hermione replied quietly, well aware of the silence that’d fallen over the room. Weren’t rich people supposed to pretend to have social graces?

“I’m so happy you decided to come,” the pretty blonde replied, clearly uncaring of everyone who was listening in.

Draco was still standing behind her, and Hermione could only imagine the look on his face.

“Well?” a beautiful black-haired woman asked, her curls even more riotous than Hermione’s own.

Draco sighed. “Merry Christmas, everyone. This is my girlfriend, Hermione. She’ll be dining with us tonight, and I expect you all to make her feel welcome.”

He sounded more like a Congressman than someone addressing their mostly-older relatives.

“Of course Hermione’s welcome!” Narcissa smiled, floating over to the pair and pressing air kisses to Hermione’s cheek in a way that was clearly her standard greeting.

“She does look young,” an older black-haired man said before someone who looked like his twin turned around and slapped his arm. “What, Cyg? It’s no insult to say a lady looks young!”

Hermione blushed at the conversation. One of these men was clearly Narcissa’s father, while the other had to be Sirius’ based on the family resemblance.

“Hi there, I’m Rolf,” a tall, very normal looking middle-aged man smiled. “This is our son, Leo.”

Leo was just as blond as Columba and Draco, but had the same features as his father. He was the perfect mix of the pair; looked like blond hair was the only extremely strong Malfoy trait.

“It’s so nice to meet you both!” Hermione smiled. “Merry Christmas, Leo.”

“Thank you for my gift,” the boy said dutifully. “I already started building it!”

“And there are pieces everywhere!” Columba smiled. “The Death Star? What were you two thinking?”

Draco just laughed, “It was Hermione’s idea.”

“Thank you, Hermione!” Leo smiled, lunging to pull the newcomer into a hug. “It’s so cool!”

She hugged him back, missing the warm look that Draco and Columba shared.

“Of course. Your mom will have to send me a photo when you’re done.”

“It’ll take forever! There’s like… a million pieces!” the boy explained while Hermione listened intently.

Hermione had been disturbed when Draco shared that he normally just took his nephew to the mall and let him buy whatever he wanted before Christmas. The point of Christmas gifts was to show someone that you cared about them, and Hermione believed the best way to do that was buying gifts that mattered to them. So she was inordinately pleased that Leo loved their gift and that Draco insisted on making it a joint venture in the first place.

A man and woman smiled as they stepped up to the small group Hermione was stood with, including a man she knew to be Regulus Black just based on his resemblance to his older brother. Well… if, you know, Sirius had showered regularly, never smoked a cigarette and ruined his skin, and wore expensive, well-fitting suits. She knew that the raggedy macho man look was attractive to some, but Hermione personally thought that the younger Black was far more attractive.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am. My name is Regulus and this is my wife, Maryam.”

Hermione was honestly surprised to see that his wife wasn’t pale white like the rest of the brood and that she had a light accent when she spoke. She couldn’t even feel guilty for wondering what Walburga thought about Regulus’ decision to marry someone who didn’t fit into the neat box of a typical blonde southern princess.

“Nice to meet you both,” Hermione replied.

“Would you like a drink?” Maryam asked, a small smile playing on her perfectly full lips. Her glossy black hair was curled down her back, and she reminded Hermione of a petite Amal Clooney. She wondered why she hadn’t heard that Columba wasn’t the only normal member of the Black-Malfoy family.

“That’d be lovely,” Hermione laughed, missing the way Draco and Regulus shared commiserating smirks over the womens’ heads.

“I’ll be right back,” she replied with a wink.

“Are you from the area, Hermione?” Regulus asked, expression genuinely curious.

People in DC were far too interested in connections over connection, and Hermione sorely missed getting questions from others who actually wanted to get to know her rather than what she could do for them.

“I’m from Seattle, actually. Draco and I met in DC.”

“That’s my next question answered,” Regulus replied.

“You zone out during the Thanksgiving inquisition, Reg?” Draco laughed.

The raven-haired man rolled his eyes. He was extremely attractive, and more angular than pointy. His eyes were the same as Draco’s, though, which was the only discernibly shared feature other than their tall, lithely muscled physiques.

“I was six drinks to the wind, mate. Mother was unbearable before we’d even made it over.”

“How’s she tonight?” Draco asked quietly.

“One of the cooks she hired burnt a pan of rolls, so we only have 64 instead of 72. That happened at 3pm, so we were subject to about two hours of yelling while the game was on,” the man replied.

“And Sirius?” Draco asked.

Regulus shrugged as Maryam walked back up with a glass of white wine in hand. Hermione smiled at the woman as she took one.

“Maryam thinks that he’ll show up, but I’m not sure.”

“Oh, he’s coming,” the woman nodded. “It’s the start of a new Congress, he certainly has something he wants to throw into Lucius’ agenda.”

Hermione felt worry pool in her stomach; what would Sirius say to James if he saw her here? Draco promised that wouldn’t be a problem, but she wasn’t so sure.

As much as the man wanted to control everyone and everything, that wasn’t always realistic. He wasn’t God or even Superman, though she knew he’d be disgruntled by the realization.

“This is the only time I’ll ever hope for Sirius to show up and soak up all of the attention,” Draco replied, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s hair.

“Well hello there, little lady!” a deep voice exclaimed, and Hermione turned around to see none other than Abraxas Malfoy and his wife, Livana. They’d been a staple in the news for as long as she could remember; as a political junkie, it was a bit exciting to be meeting the man. Republican or Democrat, he was a legend.

“Hello, sir,” Hermione smiled before immediately being pulled into a weird group hug between both of Draco’s paternal grandparents.

“None of that propriety, dolly! Welcome to the family,” Abraxas crooned, sounding very much like his grandson and nothing like his stiff, often pompous son.

“We’re so happy to meet our dragon’s lady,” Livana smiled. Her hair was a pretty strawberry blonde, and she looked far younger than nearly 80. Clearly, all sides of this family had won the genetics lottery.

“I’m just as pleased to meet you both. I’ve been looking forward to it,” Hermione replied honestly.

“To hell with Wally’s seating arrangement! You two will be near us,” Abraxas stated, receiving an eye roll from his wife.

“Absolutely not, Brax. This dinner will be tough enough to sit through without your antics… just stick with the seating arrangements!” Livana reprimanded in a far more candid way than Hermione expected. The woman shot Hermione an apologetic smile after. “Sorry, dear… someone needs to knock some sense into him.”

“I’ve prepared Hermione well,” Draco nodded, looking relaxed around his grandparents in a way that surprised her. “We’ll make it through this.”

“At least the old bat didn’t try to cook,” Abraxas muttered, taking a swig of the amber liquid in his glass.

“Oh, you are a scoundrel!” Livana scowled at her husband in a way that was reminiscent of any beautiful old couple in a black and white movie. Hermione loved them.

“Want Livy and I to join you as you do the rounds?” Abraxas asked.

“We’ll be fine, just feel free to jump in and defend our honor if you hear yelling,” Draco smirked, drawing two firm nods from his grandparents.

It looked like they had two more people in their corner, including Livana, a woman who Hermione could already tell was the type to threaten her son with, “I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it.” It was impossible not to be comforted by that knowledge.

Draco had already shared his strategy for introductions; start with the relatives he liked and hope that dinner would be ready before he could take her over to Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Walburga.

“Draco!” a beautiful woman greeted. Her hair was jet black and had a few stripes of grey in it, making it clear she didn’t care enough to dye it. That was a win in Hermione's book.

“Aunt Andromeda, Uncle Justin,” he replied. “I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Hermione.”

The girl was swept into another hug, and she took in the soothing scent of roses and freshly mowed grass. Whatever the perfume was, it was expensive and subtle.

“Call me Andy, dear,” the woman greeted. Her face had laugh lines; was this a woman who didn’t feel the need to get botox or dye her hair to feel beautiful? Hermione wanted to stick with her and also hire an investigator to figure out how she’d turned out like this when her sisters were clearly enamored with the luxury of southern aristocracy.

“Andy, it’s so nice to meet you,” Hermione smiled, trying to figure out where she’d seen the woman’s face before. She looked so familiar, but Hermione couldn’t put her finger on it. “Justin, sir, nice to meet you as well.”

“Justin will do,” the man replied in an extremely thick, slow southern drawl. Clearly he was from further south than North Carolina.

“Where is J?” Draco asked, and Hermione knew that to be their son, Justin, Jr. who Draco wasn’t a big fan of.

“Oh, he’s down in Georgia with the miss and little ones,” the older man said, nodding his head. The man was far less attractive than his wife and aging poorly; not that it mattered, of course, if he treated his clearly lovely wife well.

“I’m glad you still made it,” Draco smiled, and by Justin’s head nod, it was clear he wanted to be anywhere but here. Hermione could vibe with that.

Before they could exit the conversation gracefully, a bell rang.

“Make your way to the dining room and please abide by the placards! They are on the table for a reason,” an older woman with a shock of curly, jet black hair commanded, narrowing her eyes across the room. Hermione guessed that she was staring at Abraxas. Clearly, he was a known problem at family events.

“You okay?” Draco asked quietly, and Hermione nodded. She could tell that he was more anxious than she was at this point, and she could be the one to care for him for once.

“I’m hungry,” Hermione smiled. “Hopefully I can nab at least a dozen of the 64 rolls.”

Draco laughed loudly, drawing the attention of at least a few relatives.

“Dragon, love,” a light, female voice called out.

“Hi gram,” Draco smiled, accepting a hug and kiss to his cheek from a woman who looked like a slightly older Narcissa. Yep, these people did not age.

“I’ll be! What a beautiful young lady! Aren’t you lucky, Draco?” the woman asked, pulling Hermione in for an air hug.

“Oh, you women,” one of the two older, dark-haired men groaned. “Call me grandfather, dear, and ready yourself for the onslaught.”

“Oh, Cyg! Don’t scare the poor dear,” Druella Black smiled kindly, her wrinkles in no way interfering with her sharp-as-glass jawline. “Don’t worry about Walburga… she’s an old bat, but she comes with the family package. If I lived through meeting Cyggy’s parents, I promise you can make it through this batch of Blacks.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled, truly shocked at how this family who was known for never acting scandalously in public was so willing to talk shit about each other in front of… each other. It was wild and completely unexpected. Was it a test to try and get Hermione to trip up and join in on the gossip? Based on the pleased expression on Draco’s face as his relatives trashed one another, she didn’t think so.

They headed down another darkly decorated hallway to a large, blessedly lit dining room. The Christmas tree in the corner of this room was decorated normally, much to Hermione’s relief.

The draconian room looked like something out of Game of Thrones. The chairs were upholstered with blood red velvet and the table looked like it was carved out of matte black marble. All that was missing from the room were a basket and a guillotine.

“Draco, Hermione,” Narcissa called lightly, sitting down when Lucius pulled her chair out. “You’re next to Luc and me.”

Phew. She really thought that Draco’s aunt would’ve placed her near Bellatrix for everyone’s entertainment.

Hermione’s placard was in between Abraxas and Draco, which had her breathing a major sigh of relief.

Draco’s mother was to his left, and it was clear that Walburga spaced it out male-female as though this were some mix and mingle and not a family dinner.

“See what I’m dealing with?” Abraxas whispered after Draco had pushed Hermione into her seat.

Well, he said it loudly but held his hand up so that it had the semblance of a private conversation. “Look at me, sat in the middle of the table like a pleb and not an elder statesman! No respect.”

Hermione giggled at that, which seemed to be the response the man was looking for as he shot her a wink before turning back to his wife.

Directly across the table from Hermione was a woman with blood red lipstick who looked like Andromeda if she’d undergone enough botox treatments to the point of her skin ripping in half if she'd shown any emotion.

The woman, Bellatrix, Hermione knew, had her curls dyed pitch black too. Her husband was just as bland looking as Draco had promised; tall, a bit thick in the belly as most middle-aged men who relied on their long-gone metabolism instead of a regular gym routine were.

“Shall we be led in prayer?” Walburga asked as though they were at a cathedral. She made a show of tucking her ghastly black tulle skirt under her before being pushed into her seat by her husband.

“I shall lead,” her husband, Orion, smirked before sitting down at the head of the table and leading them in a short prayer that was far more ostentatious and King James-esque than Hermione had ever heard. It seemed to fit Orion and Walburga Black’s pretentiousness well, all things considered.

Hermione noticed that there wasn’t a chair at the other head of the table, even though that could’ve saved everyone from being squished together as tightly as they were. Egos were a fickle thing.

The rolls hadn’t even made it to Hermione before the questions started.

“So, Draco… aren’t you going to introduce us to your girl?” Bellatrix asked before turning to squint in disgust at her husband as he ripped a roll in half and shoved the bigger part in his mouth. Ew.

“This is Hermione,” Draco said, kind enough not to state that he’d already introduced her when they first arrived.

“So, Hermione,” the woman drawled. “What do you do?”

She sighed, knowing Draco had already been subject to this conversation at Thanksgiving.

“I work on the Hill.”

“For a Democrat,” Bellatrix replied, prompting Walburga to draw in a large gasp. Were they really going to pretend that they didn’t know anything about her?

“That’s right,” Hermione smiled serenely. “What do you do?”

“I’m the spokeswoman for the country’s longest-standing civil rights organization,” Bellatrix replied.

Hermione had to hold a laugh in.

“She means the NRA,” Justin chimed in unhelpfully while Andromeda just shook her head slightly and took a sip of wine.

“What else would I be referencing, Finch-Fletchley? The ACLU? NAACP?” Bellatrix replied, drawing a laugh from her husband and father.

“Enough with this jibber jabber,” Abraxas chimed in.

“Respectfully, sir, it’s not jibber jabber,” Bellatrix replied.

“She’s right!” Walburga chimed in, nodding rapidly. “If you are too soft to ask these questions of someone joining our family, then we will do it for you!”

“That’s quite enough, Walburga.” Lucius chimed in coldly.

“Is it?” she replied, a scowl on her face.

“It is,” Lucius repeated.

Saved by the bell, the sound of shoes clicking on the floor sounded on the tile floors.

“Aw, hell,” Regulus muttered from across the table, leaning into his wife’s side.

“Started without me?”

“The audacity!” Walburga shrieked at the newcomer who Hermione couldn’t see from her vantage point. There was no questioning who it was, though. “You show up? Late? Dressed like some 1990s sex fiend?”

“Nice to see you too, mother. Happy holidays to you all.”

“It’s Merry Christmas!” Bellatrix, Lucius, Cygnus and Justin replied.

Lord help them.

Sirius laughed, “You are all so easy to rile up. Where am I sitting?”

“See if you can find yourself a chair, son,” Orion sighed, running a hand through his grey hair at the head of the table while Sirius walked out of the room.

Draco took Hermione’s hand in his, and she wanted to throw up at what would certainly be a spectacle once he saw her.

“It’s almost like you hid chairs so that I couldn’t join you,” Sirius muttered.

“Almost,” Walburga agreed.

Hermione was bracing for impact as Sirius dragged his chair around the table to sit next to Andromeda who was on the opposite side of the table from the Malfoy clan.

“What the… Harry’s little Hermione?” Sirius gaped, looking like a dumb, attractive fish caught on a hook. “Have you been kidnapped?”

Hermione was grateful for Draco’s composure.

“Sirius,” he greeted, rubbing his thumb up and down Hermione’s knuckles comfortingly. “This is my girlfriend, Hermione.”

The man laughed, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

Bellatrix and Walburga looked far too amused at this turn of events.

“You are,” Justin replied helpfully, drawing a groan from almost everyone at the table.

“What the hell is going on? She’s like… 12. And works at a front desk. For a Democrat.” Sirius ticked off everything wrong with Hermione on his fingers and she wanted to either scream or sink under the table.

“She’s 22, recently promoted, and does fantastic work for your only friend,” Draco shot back.

“She could be your daughter.”

“Funny you mention that, because I remember her boss having to remind you of the same thing when you were coming onto Hermione at Thanksgiving,” Draco replied, drawing shocked gasps from Druella, Columba, Narcissa and Walburga.

Sirius had the decency to plop himself down in his seat at that.

“This is gonna blow up in your faces, you know that? There is no good end to this.”

Now he has morals? Now?

“Draco and Hermione’s relationship is none of your business, Sirius,” Columba chimed in, voice colder than Hermione’s ever heard it. “You’re ruining a perfectly good celebration of our Savior’s birth with your antics.”

“She is right, as usual,” Orion agreed. “Sit down and eat or get out.”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

Leo, Columba’s son, let out a snicker. As the only kid here, Hermione felt rather bad for him.

“Don’t come crawling to me when this blows up in your face,” Sirius repeated.

“I can hardly think anyone would come to you for help with a problem,” Walburga replied. It seemed as though her voice only had one tone; a loud shriek.

“Well,” Regulus chimed in after a long moment where only silverware scraping across china could be heard. “We have some news that we wanted to share…”

“Hopefully this will lift everyone’s spirits,” Maryam smiled, turning to look at Regulus. “I’m pregnant… with twins.”

The room lit up immediately, and Hermione couldn’t have been more grateful for the other couple’s good fortune.

“Grandchildren! Two of them,” Walburga beamed, getting up from the table to pull the pair into a hug. “God has blessed us so!”

“Congratulations you two,” Orion replied, his eyes suspiciously watery as he pulled Maryam into a hug.

“When are you due?” Druella asked, a smile on her face.

“June 30,” Maryam replied, sitting back down at the table after a round of hugs.

“Oh! What if they’re Independence Day babies?” Bellatrix asked.

“That’d be pretty neat,” Rodolphus agreed.

“Twins,” Walburga repeated, shaking her head. “We’ve never had twins in the Black family!”

“My father has twin brothers,” Maryam explained to the group. “I’m surprised none of my siblings have had twins yet!”

Regulus let out a happy laugh at that, clearly elated to finally have his family brought in on their good news.

Hermione felt genuinely happy for the pair, but could also feel eyes on her and Draco as though they were wondering when they planned on having kids. It was a question she knew they’d get frequently in the days ahead, especially with their age difference.

“Hopefully that means I’m off the hook,” Sirius replied.

“I don’t want any of your out-of-wedlock babies, Sirius Orion Black!” Walburga spat back. “It’s past time you’ve found yourself a wife and moved home.”

“Portland is my home,” he replied, slathering a roll with gravy in a way that had Hermione’s stomach rolling. He really was foul.

“It’s like you were raised by wolves,” Cygnus sighed, clearly disgusted with his cousin’s oldest son.

More like he was raised by a shrieking banshee, Hermione kept to herself.

Sirius shrugged, “I’ll follow in cousin Draco’s path and find some hot little thing on the Hill.”

Hermione couldn’t see who it was, but a fist pounded down on the table at the man’s latest crack.

“I suspect that you came tonight to ask something of me, and if you don’t mind your tongue, you can watch whatever crackpot legislation you’re promoting collect dust on my doorstep for the entirety of the next Congress.”

Hermione hid a smile. Lucius Malfoy, coming out to defend her and Draco? She could get behind that.

“Fine! Give a man a little warning that Draco’s into fraternizing with the underaged enemy before Christmas dinner next time, okay?”

“Enough! She’s no one’s enemy,” Columba replied, eyes narrowed at Sirius. “And we’re not your cousins.”

“Once removed,” Sirius muttered, as though that made a difference.

Everyone laughed at the remark, and it was like the conversation never happened. That had Hermione wondering how often blowouts like this occurred at Malfoy-Black events. With the noxious mixture of personalities seated around the table, she guessed rather often.

The rest of dinner was as uneventful as it could be, and Hermione was grateful to slide into the background and allow herself to be entertained by Brax.

“This was lovely, dear,” Orion smiled. “Thank you for such a delicious meal!”

Everyone chimed in besides Sirius.

“Thank you, father, for hiring someone to cook for us. I appreciate your commitment to serving edible food this year,” Sirius nodded.

“Out!” Walburga screamed, pointing to the hallway of horrors. “Out.”

“Son, go wait in the parlor or get the hell out of our home,” Orion sighed. So far, Hermione had seen little personality from the man outside of constant sighs. It was a miracle that Regulus turned out as well as he did from what she could tell.

Sirius smiled lazily before walking out of the room with the wine glass he’d taken from Maryam’s table setting since she wasn’t drinking.

“He gets more awful every time I see him,” Bellatrix frowned. “If anyone seriously believes that marijuana is harmless, they haven’t met Sirius.”

“You’re not wrong, my girl,” Cygnus agreed, raising a glass towards his oldest daughter. “The boy is touched in the head.”

Regulus just took another sip of his drink. Hermione couldn’t blame him.

“Cigar, gentleman?” Orion asked as they all stood up from the table, receiving nods from the men.

Columba flitted over to Hermione.

“You go,” she instructed her brother before lowering her voice. “We need to just get this over with, okay?”

Draco pulled Hermione to his side, pressing a kiss to her lips for the first time in the presence of his family. Even without looking, she was certain there were eyes on them

“Text me if you need me,” he asked, a frown on his face at the thought of being separated.

“Trust, Draco! Trust,” Columba rolled her eyes before linking elbows with Hermione.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked.

“Just a bit of a ladies tiff,” Columbia replied. “Just keep drinking and stay with Maryam and me… you’ll be fine.”

“I’m assuming Draco will have it a lot worse than I will?”

Columba’s laugh was scary. “Absolutely, but thankfully Sirius is there to soften the blow.”

“He doesn’t do much to make himself likable.”

“That’s his brand, walk in, blow special occasions up, then ask my daddy for something.”

“That’s really why he’s here?”

Columba nodded as they walked into a new sitting room that was already full of the other women, now broken off into small groups to talk. Hermione’s stomach clenched.

The groups all seemed like equally poor options when you considered joining Maryam, Andromeda, and Bellatrix or Druella, Walburga, and Narcissa.

Draco’s sister took the decision away when she moved to sit near Andromeda.

“We were wondering if you’d join us,” Bellatrix smirked.

“Just had to run to the powder room,” Columba smiled primly, pulling up two comfortable, yet heavy chairs for her and Hermione.

“So… how are things with our Draco, Hermione? I have to admit, we were a bit shocked when we heard he was dating,” Bellatrix asked.

Hermione nodded, plastering on a smile that she knew would become a very well-used expression in the days ahead.

“I can’t say I expected it either, honestly. We kept running into each other, and he eventually invited me to dinner.”

“Oh? Where did he take you?”

“His home,” Hermione smiled. “We didn’t want to attract attention.”

“He’s always been a good boy,” Andromeda smiled softly. “How are you liking DC?”

“I love it! There’s always something to do. I could spend all of my free time at the museums and art galleries and never be bored.”

“I miss it,” the woman sighed wistfully, and Hermione’s heart clenched.

Knowing not to show how much she knew, Hermione just nodded.

“You can come visit any time,” Hermione replied.

Bellatrix scoffed, “Her sister lives out there, girlie, I think she’d come stay with me before knowingly visiting Draco’s den of sexual sin.”

“Really, Aunt Bella?” Columba asked. “As though you were abstinent before marrying Uncle Roddy.”

The woman looked shocked at the normally mild-mannered Columba’s snippy remark.

“Rodolphus is the same age as me, not old enough to be my father!”

“As though that changes anything. You know how tough the next few months are going to be, are you going to help or harm the family?”

“Don’t you talk to me like that! How dare you insinuate that I’ll be anything but helpful?”

“You’re not making a good case for yourself, Bella. Columba is right,” Andromeda agreed.

Maryam remained silent, sipping on her water as though she’d experienced these fights many times before.

Bellatrix scowled, flipping her curls over her shoulder.

“Never say I can’t put on a good face in service to the greater good,” Bellatrix simpered, plastering a smile on her face before standing up and pointing a finger in Hermione’s face. Her resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West was far too uncanny. “But I’ll be here to say I told you so when everything falls apart!”

“Go join Sirius and whine together if you must. It’s Christmas, for God’s sake!” Andromeda replied.

“Don’t you go pretending to care about Jesus now, Dromeda!” Bellatrix spat before stalking out of the room.

“I apologize on her behalf,” Andromeda smiled softly, patting a hand on Hermione’s forearm.

“No need,” Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t expect everyone to understand… you all have known Draco much longer than I have, there’s obviously going to be scrutiny when he brings someone home.”

“It’s still wrong,” Maryam chimed in for the first time. “You and Draco have a right to privacy and to not be attacked for simply being together.”

“She’s right,” Columba agreed. “We’ve got your back, girl. You’re part of our family now.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled, grateful for the support of the three very different women in front of her.

“I’m going to milk these two for all they’re worth,” Maryam smiled as she looked down at her stomach and pulled out her phone.

Hermione smiled to herself, assuming that the woman was texting Regulus to see about leaving. She couldn’t blame her.

“Where do you live, Maryam?”

“Oh, we’re just down the street,” she smiled, placing her phone on her lap. “Regulus is a board member at Gringotts Bank which is headquartered here in Charlotte.”

“That’s wonderful. I’d love to get together next time I’m here,” Hermione smiled, feeling a bit uncomfortable at putting herself out there. Female friendships were never going to come naturally to her, but she wanted to try.

“Put your number in,” Maryam nodded, and Hermione had to hide the dorky smile that threatened to break out on her face. Maryam was the cool, pretty girl who never gave Hermione the time of day in high school, much like Pansy.

“Shafiq?” Hermione asked as she read the contact name Maryam Shafiq-Black that Maryam had put into her own phone. “As in Ambassador Shafiq?”

The woman let out a soft laugh. “Yes, that’s my father… Regulus and I met at a dinner in DC, actually, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. North Carolina is much better.”

Hermione wanted to groan; she thought she’d finally met someone ‘normal’ in the family. Instead, it turns out that her father was the Iranian ambassador to the United States, who was hailed for negotiating a peace agreement between middle eastern countries. The man had been laughed at by international leaders for undertaking a seemingly impossible effort; but here they were 13 years later with fewer troops in the region than anyone could’ve imagined.

This discovery also brought up a million questions of how Lucius felt about the tie to Ambassador Shafiq and its potential impact on his presidential run, but Hermione would save them for Draco. He was the only one who’d actually consented to suffering through her thoughts and musings.

“I can see why you like North Carolina so much,” Hermione smiled. “It just feels like home somehow.”

“It really does. Oh! Looks like Reg got the message,” the dark haired beauty winked, and Hermione turned slightly to see both Draco and Regulus walking into the room.

“Aw, they left my boys,” Columba pouted. “Poor Rolf is probably getting pulled into another sham investment by Uncle Orion.”

Draco laughed as he walked up and heard that.

“My father? A scam artist?” Regulus asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I think he just wants to see how much he can get Rolf to agree to buy into. Your husband is far too soft.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Columba smiled fondly, pulling Maryam and Hermione into tight hugs. “Y’all text me when you’re home safe, okay?”

“Will do, dove,” Draco smiled, the expression only growing warmer as Hermione moved to slot herself against his side. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

Hermione nodded, putting on another pleasant smile as they made their way through another round of goodbyes. Bellatrix put on a fake, sugary sweet smile when she said goodbye to Hermione, and Draco was surprisingly restrained enough not to ask about it.

“We have to stop and say goodbye to father,” Draco said quietly as they walked down the long hallway which was even more spooky at night. There were definitely ghosts at the Black Manor.

“Of course,” Hermione replied, hiding the groan and foot stamp that so wanted to come out of her. She had always been upset over having such a small family, but if large families meant goodbyes took an hour… maybe small gatherings weren’t so bad after all.

“Headed out?” Orion asked as they walked into the room, teeth clamped on a lit cigar.

“We are, uncle. Thank you for having us.”

“Dinner was lovely,” Hermione agreed with a soft smile.

The man nodded before turning back to the liquor bottles lining the bottom shelf of the room they found themselves in. It could be described as nothing other than a man cave with the large television plastered on the wall and liquor on every available surface. Hermione would’ve judged a man his age for having such a setup if she didn’t know his wife. Orion Black deserved whatever he wanted after putting up with Walburga for over 40 years.

“Oh, my dear girl! Leaving so soon?” Abraxas asked, standing up from where he’d been chatting to Cygnus.

“We are,” Hermione smiled. “It was lovely to meet you, sir.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” the man replied, wagging a finger and looking very much like a caricature of himself.

“Brax,” Hermione corrected, receiving a tight hug in reply that had her eyes watering up. There was a lot of love in the gesture, and she appreciated it.

“Sweet girl, you let me know if my grandson isn’t treating you right and I’ll take care of him. You hear?”

Hermione laughed, running a finger under her eye quickly to catch any unbidden tears at the man’s show of love, however theatrical it was.

“I will, but he’s a good one. You raised him well.”

“We really did,” Abraxas replied proudly.

Cygnus beckoned them over with a finger.

“These old bones can’t get up, give your old man a hug down here,” he asked.

“I think your problem is more whiskey than old bones, brother,” Abraxas replied with a laugh.

“Lovely to meet you, dearie. Come visit soon with Draco, you can meet our mostly well-mannered furry family,” Cygnus smiled.

“I’d love to, sir,” Hermione replied, truly meaning it. If they had as many animals as Draco said, she’d be there in a heartbeat.

“Does anyone know where father is?” Draco asked.

Abraxas shrugged, and Draco ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I’m sure you’ll find him on the way out,” Abraxas replied.

Hermione seemed to be the only one who didn’t understand the ominous reply.

They left the room at that, and Hermione felt so close to freedom that she could let out a loud whoop.

Once they had their jackets back from the still creepy and overenthusiastic Mr. Kree, Draco opened the front door to the house.

“Damn,” he muttered, as they both caught sight of Sirius and Lucius in tense conversation.

“Son,” Lucius called, not even looking up from their conversation.

As Lucius was clearly certain he would, Draco walked over to the pair.

“Yes, father?” Draco asked.

Hermione was grateful that it wasn’t that cold out, but also wondered how Lucius was standing in his suit jacket and nothing more. Maybe he really was a robot like the socialist corner of Twitter theorized.

“Sirius has something he’d like to say to you.”

The expression on Lucius’ face could only be described as akin to a lion about to pounce on its prey. Though, in this instance, a snake would be more apt.

The black-haired man stamped his booted foot in clear frustration before speaking.

“I apologize for my comments about your girlfriend and won’t say anything to James or others about your relationship.”

The way that Sirius spoke through gritted teeth, it was a marvel anyone could understand him.

“I think you ought to be saying that to Hermione,” Draco replied.

Lucius’ grin only grew wider.

“Fuck’s sake,” Sirius groaned before shaking his head. “Hermione, little girl, I’m not going to say shit to your boss. Okay? I think you’re making a mistake involving yourself with this black hole of a family, but who am I to tell you what to do?”

“Thank you for your discretion,” Hermione nodded primly despite the man’s awful apology, drawing a shockingly approving smile from Lucius.

“Goodnight,” Lucius said next. “Miss Granger, we’d love to have you over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Sounds lovely,” Hermione smiled. Who was she, being all prim and proper? Pansy really was working her hard in the etiquette department.

“See you tomorrow, father,” Draco replied, ignoring Sirius as he walked Hermione to his truck and helped her inside before handing her his keys. “I’ll be right back, you can start the car.”

Hermione felt very much like a child as Draco walked back to the pair. She couldn’t even roll down the window to listen without them noticing.

The conversation didn’t last long, but Hermione could tell that the blonds were threatening Sirius by the way he held his hands up in front of his body.

She tried not to be angry at the way she was handled when Draco finally got into the car and drove off. Despite her half hearted attempts to calm down, she was fuming.

“And?” she asked impatiently, drawing a raised brow from Draco. The man was far more even keeled than her in every situation, and in this instance, that only served to piss her off more.

“Pardon?”

“Is there a reason you left me in the car like a wayward child?”

Draco didn’t relent or apologize.

“I was making sure we were perfectly clear about what would happen if he reneged on his promise, Hermione.”

“Why couldn’t I be there for that?”

“It was not a conversation you needed to be privy to.”

“This isn’t the 1740s, Draco!” Hermione replied, realizing she sounded far too much like Walburga Black for her liking. “I can handle tough conversations.”

“I’m sorry that you feel this way, Hermione, but I’m not going to apologize for handling family business the way I felt appropriate.”

“You made me look incompetent.”

Draco’s raised eyebrow had to be the most frustrating expression in his arsenal.

“I’m sorry that you’re upset, Hermione.”

“But you’re not sorry that you upset me.”

He slapped a hand on the steering wheel.

“My father was literally trading Sirius’ silence for a promise of putting a bill that your boss is introducing on the floor, Hermione. I am not going to have you be privy to conversations that could tank your career or put you in front of the Ethics Committee right alongside my father and I.”

Well, when he put it like that… she felt like a temperamental brat.

“Maybe you could lead with that next time?” she asked lightly, not willing to concede just yet.

Thankfully, Draco just laughed.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” he grinned, shaking his head.

She threw her hands in the air, “You made me mad.”

“You don’t say,” Draco chuckled again, pulling Hermione’s hand into his and pressing a kiss to it. “Everything I do is to protect you… even if it annoys you, just try and trust me. Okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. That’s all I can ask for.”

xxxxxx

January 1, 2019

Hermione was elated to be back to DC after a few days in North Carolina. Despite Lucius’ ominous dinner invitation, they’d had a lovely, mercifully uneventful night at the Malfoy’s Charlotte home. Lucius seemed to hate her less and had even called her Hermione the entire night. She was a pragmatic woman who appreciated progress. And she even got to see the gnomes and bond with Narcissa over their creepiness. All in all, there was no guilt to be felt over spending time in Charlotte instead of Seattle.

She was always the kid who enjoyed the first day of school, and the first day of a new Congress felt full of the same excitement. The members would be sworn in on January 3, and then they’d be off to the races. A new Congress, a presidential election… everything felt like it was coming to a head, and Hermione thrived on that sort of intellectual chaos.

Here she was, a new woman in 2019.

Hermione Granger, Legislative Correspondent for Chairman James Potter. It had a nice ring to it, and she knew she’d be dressed to the nines for her new job.

Draco’s Christmas gift had been a beautifully wrapped box that held a small card with the words ‘good for one shopping trip’ on it in his beautiful cursive scrawl.

At her confusion, Draco shared that he wanted her to have a wardrobe that she felt confident in going forward. Her new job meant meeting with important government officials and lobbyists, and despite her inclination to tell Draco no, she relented. It really was a thoughtful gift that felt far different than if he were to have just handed her a Nordstrom’s gift card.

After utilizing Columba’s gift of an appointment with her hairstylist, they headed to SouthPark, which was allegedly the best mall in Charlotte.

Draco, the shameless man he was, had made her pinky promise to let him buy her whatever he wanted and trust that his yes was a yes. He’d also told her he was willing to log into his bank account app and confirm he had enough money to spend on her, but she only rolled her eyes at that. His smug sarcasm was too much sometimes.

Hermione, as stubborn as she was, knew that she needed new clothes. She’d drawn the line at Draco’s attempt to purchase her a fur coat, and even entertained his boisterous laughter as she argued against him that, no, eating meat and wearing fur were not the same! For that quip, she felt far less guilty foisting all of her bags off on him to carry.

So here they were, back in DC and taking their first morning walk of the new year.

“Think the Lululemon in Georgetown is open today? I’m buying you all new loungewear,” Draco asserted as they walked up Pennsylvania Avenue towards the Capitol.

“Why?” Hermione laughed.

“Those pants… they seem to have turned my eyes into magnets that are attracted to your lower half,” Draco smirked, very unsubtly looking down at Hermione’s backside.

She laughed, long past the point of blushing, “Draco!”

“Can’t blame a man for checking out his gorgeous lady,” he shrugged, taking Hermione’s hand into his own.

“I admit these are pretty comfortable… but Lululemon should be under Congressional investigation for charging $100 for a pair of pants!”

“I don’t see a crime other than you looking far too beautiful after six hours of sleep and two bottles of wine.”

“You are in a mood!” Hermione giggled, squeezing Draco’s hand from where it was intertwined with her own.

“I’m just happy. We have so much to look forward to this year,” Draco smiled.

Hermione couldn’t disagree with that.

“Oh, it’s icy!” she squeaked as they got closer to the east front side of the Capitol. Her shoes had slipped a bit, but thankfully Draco was there to catch her. Walking home with a bruised backside was not on her agenda for the morning.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” Draco replied. “Let’s turn around… there are far too many tourists here.”

“Oh?”

Draco nodded. He wasn’t wrong; the entire Capitol plaza was full of early morning joggers as well as families who were using selfie sticks to try and snag the perfect family photo with the Capitol in the background. Hermione and everyone else who worked on the Hill could tell them it was an almost impossible feat without a professional camera.

“It’s flu season… I don’t like getting too close to strangers, even though I’ve been vaccinated.”

Hermione wouldn’t make fun of him for that; it kind of made sense. If he got sick, she couldn’t even imagine the backlog he’d face, especially now that he was ranking member on an exclusive House committee.

“We can head back now,” Hermione agreed. “Can we grab coffee at Firehook?”

“Of course, sweetheart. One of the peppermint brownies you like, too.”

“You know me too well, it’s kind of weird.”

“Why?”

“Well, you go from not knowing anything about someone to knowing the most obscure bits of them. It’s weird,” Hermione shrugged.

“Excuse me?” a thickly accented male voice asked from in front of them. It looked to be a family decked out in Tar Heels themed winter wear. Shit.

Draco didn’t let go of Hermione’s hand as he replied in his Congressman voice.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I told you it was him, mama!” a redheaded teenager interjected with a proud smile as she pulled her hat down further over her ears.

“Well, as our Lola said… we thought that might be you, Congressman. We live in your district and are huge fans of your work,” the dad replied, sounding like he was talking to Mick Jagger and not a member of the government.

Draco smiled as he gently let go of Hermione’s hand to greet his constituents.

“Thank you all so much,” Draco replied, sounding appropriately gracious. “Where do y’all live?”

Hermione tried not to look on awkwardly as they interacted, knowing she’d really have to get used to this type of interruption.

“We’re in Dilworth, been there for about twenty years now. I’m glad we ran across you, though. Your office shared that you’ll be rather busy this week and won’t have time for a meet and greet.”

Draco nodded, looking properly remorseful. “Yes sir. Unfortunately, swearing-in keeps us rather busy. I’d love to take a photo with you all now, instead? A bit different than my normal suit and tie, so I apologize for that.”

Everyone laughed as though he’d told a Dave Chappelle-level joke. Hermione had to smile at the way he enraptured people by solely existing. She could certainly relate

“Oh, of course!” the mom smiled, pulling her phone out of her jacket pocket.

“I can take it,” Hermione smiled, stepping up to grab the phone. She was used to taking photos of folks with her boss, so this was no different.

Also… resident photo-taker was the role of the non-famous partner in a relationship with a prominent figure, no?

“Thank you,” Draco smiled warmly, and so did the others. She noticed that he didn’t say her name, clearly not wanting to get it out into the open just yet. Draco’s social media thirst squad was certainly savvy enough to dox her with or without a unique name, but she appreciated his efforts.

They took a few photos, one with the whole family then one with just the parents and then the two children. Draco and Hermione were gracious through it all.

“Oh, thank you, Congressman Malfoy! You are far too kind,” the woman smiled.

“The kids will have a great story to tell when they head back to school,” the father agreed.

It was the Hallmark family moment Hermione had never had. They really were sweet.

“Thank you for letting us take up your time, ma’am,” the woman said to Hermione as they started walking away.

“No worries, enjoy your trip!” Hermione smiled.

Draco was quiet as they walked, and as soon as they were far enough away, Hermione spoke.

“They were so lovely, you just made their entire trip before it’s even started.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m just surprised they recognized me, but I’m glad they did. Thanks for your patience.”

“I’m gonna have to get used to it, hm?” she shrugged. “Besides, people save up for years to go on trips. If the highlight of it is meeting you, I’m not going to ruin that.”

“My sweet girl. The random interruptions are annoying sometimes, but mostly innocent.”

“Of course,” Hermione smiled. “I know you were kidding when you mentioned a brownie, but I can’t stop thinking about it…”

Draco just laughed and picked up the pace.

xxx

It was only later, when the fire was crackling and they were cuddled up on Draco’s couch that his work phone rang.

All Members of Congress and their staff were provided a second cell phone since the House and Senate didn’t allow their servers to be accessed by private, personal devices. Hermione had found it extremely exhilarating at first to walk around with two phones, but now?

Now it was just frustrating and an extra weight in her hands or bag wherever she went.

Draco, like most members, was paranoid about who he gave his personal phone number out to, so Hermione guessed that it was a reporter or a staff member who was calling him.

“Gemma?” Draco greeted, putting the phone on speaker as he sat up. “No, no, it’s fine… Blaise is out of pocket today.”

“I know, it’s a holiday, so sorry for calling Mr. M! I just wanted to let you know that there was a post from some folks you met today shared on Instagram and Facebook, both on public accounts.”

Gemma was a trusted staffer who’d been with Draco since she was a press intern. She’d worked her way up and assumed the role of communications director five years ago when Draco’s first CD became pregnant and left the workforce.

“Okay? What did they say?” Draco asked, rubbing a hand on his chin in frustration or impatience or both. Hermione’s money was on both.

“I just screenshotted it and sent it to you,” she replied.

Draco took his phone back into his hands from where it was resting on his blanket-covered thigh to check out the text.

“Thanks, Gemma. Just leave it alone and text me if you get any press requests.”

“Of course! Have a good day, sir,” the communications director chirped.

Instead of being mad or anxious when he hung up, Draco started laughing and slapping his legs like he was in a slapstick comedy.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, slapping his calf gently to grab his attention.

Instead of replying, Draco just shoved his phone in her hand, now at the point of crying from laughter.

There was a screenshot of the photo Hermione had taken of Draco with the entire family and a very long Facebook caption to accompany it. Hermione squinted as she read the words of Reginald Cattermole.

God has His hand on our family trip! We arrived in Washington, D.C. after a flight delay late last night and took a cab into the city while fireworks blasted over the night sky… Our hotel is clean and had a continental breakfast that we all enjoyed this morning. The kids enjoyed the waffle maker - thanks to Kylie from the Hyatt Place staff for helping them out!

While on a long walk around the city, we stopped at the Capitol. Not even the cold could keep us away!

After taking a few family photos, Lola saw a great-looking couple from a while away and pointed them out to my Mary Lou thinking that it was our beloved Congressman Malfoy. Despite Mary Lou’s wishes, I called out to him! It was indeed Congressman Malfoy, and he couldn’t have been nicer. He and his lady entertained us for a while, and she took the photos I’ve shared here. Thank you to Congressman Malfoy and his lovely lady (fiance?) for making this Charlotte family’s trip to Washington so special. We’re off to the American History Museum now and will report back later… Happy New Year to all!

Hermione joined him in his laughter.

“Do people really write posts like this?”

Draco wiped his tears, “I guess so. The good news is that most people won’t make it through that long post to get to the part about us.”

“How did Gemma find it?”

“It’s public on Facebook and Instagram. Tagged me on both… hopefully anyone who’d normally care is too hungover to look into it.”

Hermione smiled in reply, letting it sit out there until Draco’s personal phone rang a few hours later. They’d ordered pizza, so she assumed it was here.

“Shit,” he groaned before answering.

Guess it wasn’t pizza.

“Father…” He paused for a moment while the older man spoke, rolling his eyes and bobbing his head as he did. “Yes. Of course. We’ll be there.”

Hermione didn’t even want to ask, letting the way Draco lightly threw his phone across the room be answer enough.

Draco spoke a few long moments later.

“Father’s camp caught wind of us being seen together. He’d like us to come to dinner with his team tomorrow to discuss our plans to go public.”

“Okay,” Hermione nodded, trying not to panic when Draco was clearly frustrated. “That won’t be so bad. Who’s going to be there?”

“Severus, my grandfather, and Tom.”

“Tom Riddle?” Hermione asked, eyes blown wide.

“Tom Riddle,” Draco agreed.

Now she understood.