House Filled With Secrets
Hermione sat with James on her lap, helping him to eat breakfast with his stuffed dog clutched in his chubby hands, complicating the process significantly. She found she loved the little boy and it made something deep inside her ache for children of her own. She wondered if she and Malfoy had been trying for them during that missing time. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought and was glad to find James seemed not to notice.
Hermione switched tactics, focusing on James. He was an energetic little boy who loved attention and usually that didn’t mix all too well with having a younger sibling pop up one day. “Are you excited to have a little brother?” Hermione asked, leaning in so her head was right beside James’s.
James nodded enthusiastically. “We’re going to play dragons together and he can play with all of my toys.”
Hermione smiled, tickling the little boy playfully. “Well, that is very sweet of you.”
The rest of breakfast was uneventful, James babbling his nonsense to Hermione, Harry and Ginny watching on with bright smiles. Once it was over with Ginny scooped James up and took him outside to run around the yard with the dogs. Harry stood and strode over to Hermione, checking his watch. It was the same watch Molly and Arthur had given him for his seventeenth birthday. “Draco’ll be at work now.” Harry said. “You ready?”
She got to her feet and looped her arm in his. “Let’s do this.”
They apparated to the house that she supposed was hers with a crack. She surveyed the space, finding they were in a large sitting room. She’d thought that Harry’s home was large, but hers was considerably larger. It made sense, after all this place had likely been funded by Malfoy’s extensive blood money.
Harry watched her with bated breath and asked, “Is being here bringing back any memories?” She sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t expect that it would, but I just wanted to ask, just in case.” She gave him a tight smile and said, “Do I have a suitcase somewhere?”
Harry shrugged. “I have no idea. I mean, I know you have a suitcase but I have no clue where you would keep it.”
“Alright, let the search begin.” Hermione said with a flourish. She made Harry give her a tour of the house and found that it was even larger than she had first thought. Like Harry’s, there were two sitting rooms, rather than just one, like she’d been accustomed to while growing up. She and Malfoy also each had their own offices on the first floor, that were rather spacious, though she noted that hers was slightly bigger. There were large bookshelves in each sitting room, and the bedroom, all overflowing with books.
Hermione stood in the larger of the two sitting rooms for a long time, holding a picture frame that she’d picked up from the little table beside one of the couches and staring at it intently. Captured within it was Malfoy and Hermione, her hair pinned expertly around her head in such a way that both extenuated her curls and toned down the messiness of them. She was in an elegant white dress that she knew was exactly what she would have chosen for herself now. Her face was bright with a smile as she danced with Malfoy. He held a quieter smile, awed, admiring and infinitely happy.
She set the frame down gently and refocused her attention on packing some things for herself in the suitcase she’d found in the back of one of the closets in her bedroom. She had no idea whether it was hers or Malfoy’s but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She didn’t think Malfoy had any right to mind.
She had trouble locating some of the things she really wanted. Sure, she found her clothes, but they all seemed rather formal or dressy, nothing in the realm of leisurewear or even pajamas. What she really wanted was a nice pair of plaid pants, but none seemed to be forthcoming as she sifted through her spacious closet. She didn’t dare look inside of the other closet that she was sure belonged to Malfoy. She’d opened it, seen all of those dress shirts and closed it right back up again.
She’d filled the suitcase about halfway with clothes when she decided that was enough and moved on to look at the bookshelf in their bedroom. She was sad to find that she did not recognize more than a few of the books on that shelf. And those she did recognize, she remembered not liking all that much. These must be Malfoy’s books. She checked the ones in the sitting rooms and found them to be utterly lacking as well. Her photos might have been hung on the walls and propped on the tables, but this was not her home.
She found Crookshanks curled on the couch and scooped her beloved cat into her arms, tugging the suitcase along behind her. She stopped at Harry’s side, where he had been waiting, propped against the island in the kitchen. “Set?” He asked, reaching over to scratch Crookshanks head.
“I think so.” She said, surveying the space one last time. “Come on, Crookshanks.”
“I’ll apparate back, come through my floo whenever.” Harry said and with a pop he was gone.
As she prepared to walk through the floo, knowing she couldn’t very well disapparate with a cat and a suitcase, Crookshanks grew restless. He began to squirm in her arms, yowling and pushing against Hermione’s chest to try and get down. Hermione tried to wrangle the cat for a few moments before relenting and letting Crookshanks leap to the floor. Immediately Crookshanks took off through the house. Hermione followed on behind that bottlebrush tail and found Malfoy opening the front door, holding two leashes in hand with dogs that must be Cinnamon and Mika.
Malfoy hadn’t seen Hermione there yet and she froze where she stood. He unclipped the leashes from his dogs’ collars and reached down to pick up Crookshanks who was meowing needfully. The cat immediately began to purr loudly and Malfoy cradled him like a baby in one arm, scratching his belly with the other. He rocked Crookshanks back and forth and whispered something to the cat who seemed entirely content with his position.
There was a soft smile on Malfoy’s face as he held Hermione’s childhood cat. She stared at the pair of them, so intent on watching them that she didn’t notice Cinnamon trot up to her and nudge her hand with her head. Hermione hardly even noticed the dog and she barked softly to get Hermione’s attention. Hermione jumped at the sound and Malfoy’s eyes snapped up to Hermione’s face.
He paled when he saw her there and she tracked the line of his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed, a clear sign of his nerves. He scratched the back of his neck and looked at her warily, as though she was bound to lunge forward and attack him at any given moment. When she started still as a statue and said nothing, he spoke. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”
“You’re supposed to be at work.” She said, her voice harsh and accusing.
He took a step back, as though she’d stabbed him and said, “I took the day off.”
Hermione shifted her weight to her right and said, “I just came by to get some things, to bring back with me to Harry’s.”
“Did you just get here?” He asked, cracking his knuckles- like it was a habit.
She shook her head. “I’ve been here for at least forty minutes.”
“Did you find everything?” He asked, bending over slowly to settle Crookshanks on the ground.
Hermione thought about lying, telling him that yes, she had found everything, and then leaving. But she really wanted her own things, even if she couldn’t remember them as hers.”No.” She admitted, and she wasn’t sure why the confession drew embarrassment from her.
“I can help.” He offered tentatively. And there was something in his eyes that made it hard for her to deny him.
So instead she said, “Okay.”
“Did you get your stuff out of the bathroom?” He asked and she shook her head. “Right, it’s up here.” He led her up the stairs and through their bedroom into a very large bathroom, complete with it’s own bathtub that looked more like a hot tub, a walk-in shower that could comfortably fit five people, a vanity and two large sinks. He crossed over to the far sink and opened the top drawer beneath it. He passed her a toothbrush and said, “This one’s yours.” Then he gave her her toothpaste and floss before moving over to the vanity. He pulled open the top drawer on the right and stared at the brushes inside- there were at least a dozen- before pulling out two of them and tossing them to her.
Malfoy grabbed three little bottles off of the vanity countertop and explained their purpose to her before disappearing into the shower and returning a moment later with her bathing supplies. “Thanks.” She muttered before abruptly asking, “Where are my comfortable clothes?”
“Oh right, our closets are… enhanced.” He said with a little laugh. “Here, I’ll show you.” He approached the closet and waved his wand at the closed door. When he slid it open there was an entirely different set of clothes lay before her.
“How many of these do I have?” She asked, staring at the assortment of comfortable clothes in front of her.
He gave her a little shrug. “Six, I think. But you were talking about moving it up to seven.”
He said it so casually, as though it wasn’t bizarre to essentially have six- or possibly seven- different closets for one person. As she began to riffle through her things, he showed her how to do the spell, then left the room to give her some privacy in her selections. Nearly an hour later she received a patronus from Harry, asking her if she was alright. She sent him back one quickly, detailing that she was fine and was just going to be a bit longer.
She found Malfoy at the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister and looking out the larger windows that framed their backyard. “Anything else?” He asked.
She paused for a moment before answering, thinking over the things she could possibly want. “What were my favorite books?”
He quickly strode back into the bedroom, with her trailing along behind him and stopped in front of their bookshelf. He pulled a thick title off of the middle shelf and passed it to her. “This one’s your absolute favorite.” Then he pulled out two more and passed them to her as well. She recognized none of them. He left the room and hurried down the stairs and into the first of the sitting rooms. He grabbed one from that shelf and then three more from the shelves in the other sitting room.
To her surprise, he didn’t stop there, instead he strode into her office and preformed a complex spell that revealed a hidden door within the far wall. Opening it up he revealed to her a spiraling staircase lit within showy candles along the walls, descending downwards. They began the descent, with Hermione having left her suitcase in the office. Apprehension gripped her as they passed the first set of doors, which Malfoy claimed contained his brewing room and extensive collection of potions ingredients, as well as a miniature library filled with books on potion making and theory.
The next set supposed held their panic room, filled with anything they should need in case of emergency and means of escape. As they descended deeper, Hermione began to feel more and more like something was very wrong with this whole situation. Why did they have a panic room at all? And why was were some of Hermione’s favorite books hidden down here?
Finally, after what felt like a century, they reached the bottom floor. Malfoy flung the doors wide and Hermione prepared for the worse. Only for her eyes to land upon hulking rows and rows of books, shelves upon shelves upon shelves stuffed to the brim with countless books. Malfoy navigated the maze with ease, picking out books every so often as they went. She passed by several cozy looking reading nooks and a bit of her longed to take the books he offered her and curl up in one of them to read.
“How do we have this many books?” Hermione asked, in slight awe mingled with a pinch of horror as she wondered how they had obtained them.
Malfoy merely smiled at her in a sort of way that meant shared memories between them. Only they were no longer shared, since Hermione could remember none of them. Then he grabbed her hand and apparated them both back into the office. The door was gone, as though it had never been there at all. She gaped at him and he only said, “We can apparate out, but not in.” Like that was the only explanation the situation warranted.
She said nothing else to him- she had no idea what to say- and took the floo back to Harry’s without a word. When she tumbled out she found Harry there waiting for her, an anxious expression pinching his features. “What kept you?’ He asked, schooling his expression into something welcoming.
“Malfoy showed up.” She said. “Turns out he decided to take the day off.”
She dropped onto the couch in a huff and whisked her suitcase off to her room with the flick of her wand. Harry came to stand beside her with her arms crossed in an exasperated sort of way. “I’m guessing by the fact that you’re still calling him Malfoy that your interaction didn’t spur any memories.”
She rolled her eyes and knocked her feet onto the coffee table. “If by that you mean I still can’t see myself marrying that prat, then yeah.” He laughed and she scowled at him.
“So, what were you doing that whole time?” Harry asked suggestively, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. She merely scowled again and summoned one of the books out her suitcase, the one Malfoy had claimed was her favorite. She wondered if Harry knew her favorite book. It seemed an odd thing for anyone to know about her.
She examined the title, A Million Pieces of Me. It was written by someone named Louise Belicent. A quick read of her biography in the back of the book told Hermione that she was definitely a muggle. A muggle scientist to be exact who had discovered something relevant to space travel that Hermione couldn’t quite understand. She read the book summary and found that it contained an exceedingly ordinary plot. A healer in a fictional kingdom found a fallen soldier from another kingdom’s army and instead of leaving him to die, she took pity on him and nursed him back to health.
She could gather just from the summary that this was meant to turn into a love story, not really her forte, but decided to dive in anyway.
She was about two hundred pages into the thousand page monstrosity when Harry declared that it was time for lunch and plopped a sandwich in front of her, prying the book from her hands. She wasn’t too invested in the plot or the characters so she let it go easily enough. “How’s the book?” Harry asked after the silence had drawn on too long.
Hermione swallowed the bite of her sandwich she’d been eating and said, “Honestly, it’s pretty boring. I don’t understand what I found so extraordinary about it. It’s definitely below average and the writing is subpar. I think I would’ve stopped reading already if not for Malfoy’s insistence that it was a phenomenal read according to me.”
“It might be about timing.” Harry said thoughtfully. “My favorite book is my favorite because I found myself relating to the main character. She went through similar things that I did and the love interest is very like Ginny.”
Hermione scoffed. “Nope. Can’t be it. Malfoy is nothing like the soldier in this, aside from maybe the insufferable part. And the main character in this is so lovestruck, it’s irritating.”
“Really?” Harry asked with an insufferable grin. “Of course you couldn’t possibly relate to the enemies to lovers aspect of it.”
“Malfoy must have been mistaken.” Hermione carried on, ignoring Harry’s words completely. “How would he know anyways? It’s not like I’ve kept an itemized list of my favorite books.”
Harry shrugged. “You might’ve. Knowing you.”
Hermione glared at him and said, “Hang on, did you say you had a favorite book? You mean you’ve read a book? For fun?”
Harry looked at her and said, “A lot has changed, Hermione. Yes, I read now, quite often actually. I even have a reading goal, one hundred books per year. I’m actually ahead of schedule right now, at seventy-three right now.”
“Have you read this book?” Hermione asked, gesturing to it as she took another bite of her sandwich, which she had to admit tasted oddly good despite being a combination she never thought to try.
Harry shook his head and said, “No, but I’ve heard quite a bit about it. Draco didn’t really understand what you saw in it and did quite a bit of complaining to me about it when you first made him read it. But after around page four hundred and seven he started to really enjoy it.”
Hermione groaned and folded her arms, but internally marked page four hundred and seven as a page of interest, implied that Harry’s memory was reliable- which it generally wasn’t.