It takes a lot to stop a twenty-three year old man in his tracks when he’s been walking along stubbornly, staring at the ground. Especially when he’s been pondering how to explain to the Ministry of Magic that he is unable give them the names of ten or more wanted men because of the Fidelius Charm, of which he is under. Granted, this is no ordinary man we are about to meet. No, this is one Mister Draco Malfoy, a wizard with white-blonde hair and soft, grey eyes. Five years ago he was described by many to be “steely,” due to his very pale skin, hard grey eyes, and overall rough disposition. However, we do not want to meet the Mister Draco Malfoy of five years ago, do we? No, we want to meet the Draco Malfoy of now.



What, do you ask, has caused Mister Draco Malfoy to stop in his tracks in such a seemingly random way? Well, it is quite odd. Mister Malfoy, well, why don’t we call him “Draco?” Draco has stopped because he has come upon a house painted white with a black slate roof, red shutters, a brick chimney and walkway, a white picket fence, a perfectly manicured lawn, and a white mailbox sitting in front. On the mailbox is written, in perfect, thick, black painted cursive, “The Granger Family.”



To be completely honest with you, it is because of this mailbox that Draco has stopped. It is only after noticing the mailbox that he turns around and sees the house, outwardly perfect, respectable, and normal in every way. At least, it is to the causal passerby. The trained eye, however, notices that the vegetable garden along the side of the house has tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, and carrots that grow larger and much faster than usual. A trained eye would also notice that every time you looked away, hedge trimmers would work on the hedges on the side of the house, opposite that of the vegetables, but they do not work when you look at them.



Now, Draco is a wizard. He is not a casual passerby. In fact, he has one of the most trained eyes in that area of Great Britain. This makes it obvious to him that these “Granger” people, or “Granger” person, for that matter, are witches or wizards. Although, he is fairly confidant that it is a young witch around his age, nine months older than him to be exact, who lives here alone. He is positive that this young woman owns a book shop in the popular Wizarding section of London, Diagon Alley, and that her book shop does very well, although not once has he seen her there. In fact, it is giving the old shop, Flourish and Botts, a run for its money. Draco is so certain in all of this that he has not noticed a man in his late forties with white streaked, brown hair come up to him, holding tight to the hand of a blonde, six-year-old girl.



After a few words with Draco, many of them concerning Draco’s inability to move from the same spot for over twenty minutes, the man moves on. Draco was unfazed by neither the man’s questions nor his startled gaze once they locked eyes for the first time. It was the first time in many years that Draco had seen the man, as Draco now works for the Ministry of Magic while the man teaches at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the school Draco had gone to. The man had taught Draco, actually, although that was not the last time they had seen one another. Six years prior, the man was married, and Draco was invited to the wedding after fighting in the Second Wizarding World War with the man.



Although, Draco admits that seeing a little, blonde girl clinging tightly to the man’s hand was slightly disconcerting. He had no idea that Professor and Mrs. Lupin had a child, although the latter was head of the Auror department, where Draco worked. Actually, she was the only one standing between him and the Minister. How had he missed that they had a daughter? For six years, none the less?



While Draco ponders the mystery of his oh-so-trained eye missing the child of his superior, we notice that in a second-floor widow of the perfect, respectable, and normal house, the face of a little girl has appeared. From this distance, we can only see boisterous brown curls. However, we know that she is five years old, missing one of her front teeth, and is wearing a navy dress over a white blouse and white tights. Now, she has noticed the strange man standing motionlessly in front of her house, but prefers to watch him rather than tell anyone. As Draco decides to walk up to the front door of the Granger house and knock, the little girl runs away from the window. Where she runs to, we don’t know. What we do know is that just as Draco pulls back his right fist to knock soundly on the door, it opens.



A woman stands there, putting a leash on a small Jack Russell Terrier named Famille. The sight of this woman with messy, bushy brown curls and wearing a green jumper, jeans, and trainers, sends Draco’s heart thumping. As Draco removes a slightly calloused hand from the door knob and straightens up, the woman shrieks. “Bonne Foi!” she calls back into the house, presumably to the little girl. “Restes dans ta chambre!” she shrieks again in French. However, because of these two pronouncements, Draco’s face has fallen, and he looks defeated.



“Je suis désolé,” he says in perfect French to the woman. “J'ai pensé vous étiez quelqu'un d'autre.”



Quite upset, he turns and begins to leave, shoulders slumped in disappointment. As the impartial viewer, we can assume that he thought the family living there would not be French, or perhaps that the woman was someone else, as his previous words indicate. However, the instant the woman calls out to him, after shutting the door behind her, she calls out to him in English.



“Draco! Wait!” He spins around, completely taken aback, and this woman runs forward, Famille at her heels. “I’m sorry about the French, Draco. My daughter and I only just moved here from France last weekend, where we’ve lived for the past five and a half years. She knows English, but French is the language of home. For her, at least.” This boisterous speech has left a tint of red in the woman’s cheeks, and she looks down at her feet quickly before giving him a quick glance and continuing. “What have you been up to, Draco? What brings you here?”



Shock is evident on Draco’s face, although it is unclear whether it is from the fact that this woman is who he thinks she is, the fact that she has a daughter, or perhaps it is that she has lived in France for five years. “First of all, are you or are you not Hermione Granger?” he asks her, grasping her shoulders tightly and forcing her to look at him. A quick nod on her part answers that question, and the woman, who we now know is Hermione, rolls her eyes. “Second, you’ve lived in France for five and a half years? Do you know how worried I’ve been? One day I come home and find my House Elf with a note from Potter saying that you are gone and do not plan on coming back.”



Now it is Hermione’s turn to be shocked, as she whispers, “You were worried about me? Harry said that you never once asked or tried anything. He said that you didn’t care!”



Giving her an I-know-better-than-you look, Draco says, “I’m not stupid, Hermione. I knew that Potter would not give me any information, so I went through Weasel, the Weaselette, and Mrs. I’m-Married-To-A-Weasel-And-We’re-Obsessed-With-PDA.” A giggle is Draco’s prize for the aptly named wife of the “Weasel,” although it is quickly followed by a scowl.



Hermione stands with her hands on her hips while Famille tries to run in circles around her legs and says, “Draco, I understand that you don’t like Ron, Ginny, or Lavender, and that their last name is very convenient, but there is no need for name calling.” After a pause, she adds, “Although, Lavender did mention that someone was asking after me, and that none of them could say where I was.”



Draco isn’t sure when he let go of Hermione’s shoulders, but now he’s grasping them again. “Why did you leave?” he asks, no, pleads, her. “Why did you just get up and go?”



Unfortunately for Draco, Hermione now won’t look him in the eye. Not so gently, Hermione grabs Draco’s hands and forces them off of her, which is followed by the untangling of Famille’s leash. “I didn’t leave by choice, Draco,” Hermione says after a lengthy pause. At last she meets Draco’s eyes, only to deliver him the news he has overlooked from the beginning. “When I found out I was pregnant with Bonne, I told Harry and Ron first. They asked me who the father was, as they did not know that I was seeing anyone. Finally, I told them of our clandestine relationship, how we had been seeing each other secretly for years, and how I had been able to convince you not to kill Dumbledore.



“When I told them that we had been sleeping together for less than a year, they completely over reacted. Within thirty minutes they had made arrangements for me to go live in France. They even went as far as to send me to live in the Potter Family Villa. Did you know that the Potter’s will left Harry four houses around the world? No? Well it did, and the one I have lived in for the past five and a half years came with a staff of twenty paid French squibs and those who had not been able to afford proper magical training. They catered to our every need, and I was a prisoner on the Continent. At last Harry lifted the Human Banishment Charm he had placed on me, once it became illegal, and I was allowed to return to Britain.”



After her little speech, Hermione looks at Draco defiantly, and dares him to comment. But it would appear that Draco can’t say more than one word, as he finally says, “Pregnant? Daughter?” Hermione takes pity on him, and her face softens.



“Draco?” she questions kindly. “Do you love me?”



Draco’s head shoots up, and Hermione receives his first genuine smile in five and a half years. Gently, Draco’s hands take hers and he draws her to him, placing a light kiss on her forehead. “Hermione Jane Granger, yes, I love you. When I finally discovered that Potter had sent you away, I thought it was because he had discovered our relationship and desired nothing more than to cleanse you of me. So after two years of fruitless searching, I began campaigning. My goal for the past three and a half years has been to clear my name and to make sure that your friends think that I am worthy of you.”



A grin spreads across Hermione’s content face faster than ever before. “Would you like to meet Bonne?” she asks, happily. As a response, Draco leans in and kisses Hermione soundly on the lips, finding the one thing that was missing from his life.



“I really do have a daughter?” he asks as they pull away from the embrace, lips slightly bruised on both parts.



Hermione simply nods and says, “Her full name is Bonne Foi Malfoy, spelled like the French phrase ‘Good Faith,’ but pronounced like the English ‘Bonnie.’ I didn’t care what Harry said; she was going to have her father’s last name.”



A grin is the only assurance Hermione needs before calling back towards the house, specifically towards the open window where a little girl with boisterous, brown curls is perched, listening to everything. “Bonne, s'il vous plaît venir dehors! Ta père est ici!”






Translations for French/English are below. So sorry if I incorrectly translated some! EDIT: thanks for the corrections!



Hermione: Bonne Foi! Stay in your room!



Draco: I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.



Hermione (at the end): Bonne, please come down here! Your father is here!



Also, the dog’s name, Famille, means “family.”