Lies, Buried and Bound - A Dramione Story

Part Twenty-Three

It was a very gentle and polite request.

"Draco... I don't know. The drawing room - "

" - Say the word and I'll have it completely remodelled."

She smiled grimly, "I have a life in France with Charlotte; I can't just uproot her to England. And what about my family?"

He drove her hair back and kissed her head. "Hermione, let me take a wild guess, okay? A total shot in the dark."

She nodded, unsure of his motives.

"Your home is wherever Charlotte is, yeah? But your heart also belongs in a world where you can express your magical side. Therefore you identify yourself - your most inner self - as not having a true home. Your heart is in both places."

She grinned honestly and shook her head. "All without legilimency, huh?"

"Hermione," he took her hands and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "You and your stubborn heart deserve a whole home. Maybe it's not here with me in the Manor, but it's definitely here in England among witches and wizards. I know this invitation is a lot to digest," she smiled. "Just promise me you'll think about it."

She tensed and held her breath. "I... I'll think it over. I have a lot of explaining to do with the others."

"I understand," he said.

Hermione peered down the hallway with building trepidation. Sensing her affliction, he steepled their fingers together over his lap. "Do you want to do this together?"

"You would do this with me?"

"Undoubtedly." He gave her hand a reassuring hand-squeeze and dragged a thumb down her lip, tugging her cute chin. She broke out into a wide smile that warmed his chest. He kissed her temple, "Let's go."

"Alright."

Together, they stood and he placed a sturdy hand at the small of her back, reminding her that they were together.

--

Everyone sat in the library silently, each staggered by the day's events. Each of them replayed the past few years on repeat in their heads to make sense of everything. Narcissa was by far the most confused. She didn't know Hermione Granger and her son had been closed off for as long as she could remember. She knew that Ginny and Luna, if they would brave the silence and speak out, might enlighten her with details of Hermione's life in the past few years. Perhaps Blaise might have intell on secrets her son told him; Blaise certainly had a talent for getting people to spill even their darkest secrets without some magic or a serum.

They all sat in their perplexed little bubbles, even as Charlotte sat at a table and coloured with an array of old crayons back from Draco's childhood. (Although when Charlotte had even mentioned the word "crayons," everyone looked around as if she'd asked for a bone to chew on.)

She sang and sang and coloured until she grew bored of it. So, the equivalent of five minutes. Then she scrambled up onto the loveseat next to Ginny and snuggled beside her. "Where's my mummy? Why is she talking with Mr. Draco? And where is the master?"

Narcissa smiled only a little bit.

"Oh. Well, your mummy is talking to him in another room. Probably to talk about you."

"Me?" she giggled delightfully. "Why?"

"I don't know!"

Narcissa assisted Ginny with a better explanation. "Charlotte, you are such a splendid child. Naturally, they want to talk about you."

"Oh! Right." She grinned at the older witch with a borrowed smile, one that previously belonged to her son. Draco didn't smile much these days, and when he did, they never seemed to reach his eyes.