A Change of Heart

Increase font | Decrease font
White BG | Black BG | Purple BG | Light Text | Dark Text | Red Text | Purple Text

Chapter 33 - The Postscript -

Sitting in his favourite, comfortable chair in his living room, in the house that he shared with his wife and small son, Draco Malfoy was reading his wife’s newest manuscript. It was the story of a man who was lost, with a heart made of stone, and a woman who found him, gave him her love, and in the process, gave him a change of heart.

Unlike her first book, this wasn’t a children’s novel. No, this was a love story, and the story of their life together. She may not have meant for it to be such, but it was. There were slight differences, here and there, but for the most part, it told their love story to a tee.

He heard his wife walking down the stairs. She was singing. She had their toddler on her hip. She said, “Say, hello to your poppa.”

Draco put the manuscript down and walked up to Hermione and Henry. “Hello little boy,” Draco said to his son, holding his plump little hand in his and kissing it lightly. He took his son from his wife and raised him high above his head.

Hermione said, “Draco, be careful.”

“Do you seriously think I would drop my child? My heir? The fruit of my loins?” Draco asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “Fruit is about right. Give me my son,” and she reached up for the baby.

“He’s my son,” Draco said.

“No, he’s my son,” Hermione said, putting the baby down in his playpen.

“He’s your son when he cries at night,” Draco reminded.

“He’s your son when his nappies are dirty,” Hermione said with a laugh. She saw that her manuscript was on the coffee table. She bent down, picked it up, and said, “What do you think?”

He took the manuscript from her hands and said, “I should sue you for liable. This is the story of you and I.”

“No, it’s fiction,” she reminded, adding, “And it’s you and me.”

“That’s what I said,” he stated. He sat back down with the manuscript.

“No, I was correcting your grammar. It should be you and me, not you and I,” she repeated, sitting beside him. She put her head on his shoulder.

“You say it your way, and I’ll say it mine,” he said, tweaking her nose.

“My way is the right way,” she said.

“Of course, it always is,” he sighed.

She took the manuscript from him and said, “Draco, tell me truthfully what you think. I know it’s different from my other book, but I’m rather proud of it, and so far everyone who's read it has really liked it.” She looked pensively at him.

“I like it as well, it’s just personal things are mentioned, and I don’t like that,” he said truthfully. He picked the text back up and leafed through the pages. “See, here on page 213, you have the chap falling out of a shower, while they’re having sex, and breaking his leg.”

“So?” she asked.

“You can’t say you didn’t draw on our personal experience for that part,” he said as he gave her a glare.

“You broke your pelvis and your hip that time you fell, not your leg. Different bones completely.” She grinned.

He squinted at her with one eye, and then turned to another section. “How about in this part, page 127. You have the woman taking the man into a gay bar,” he pointed out, opening the manuscript on that page and plopping it in her lap.

“In this story it is a leather bar. It was no such thing in real life, just a friendly, neighbourhood establishment,” she reasoned.

He stood up, went over to the baby and covered his small ears. “It’s embarrassing, Mrs. Malfoy! I don’t want Henry thinking his father is a dolt who went around breaking hips, going to gay bars, getting arrested, and the like,” he concluded, removing his hands from the baby’s ears.

She smiled and said, “But no one will know it’s from our real life. Anyway, do you not like all the good things I wrote that parallels our real life? How about the expensive painting he bought her, just so he could start dating her, and the 'painting war' the ensued between them? How about how sweet he was to her when her mum died, or the romantic way he recited his wedding vows to her, in a men’s room?” These stories were comparable to things that had happened in their romance, only it was a book, her dad, and a woman’s room.

“Do you really want to publish our story? Isn’t it private? Shouldn’t it stay between us?” Draco asked.

Hermione frowned slightly. “Listen, Draco, if it’s that important to you, then I’ll write something else. I won’t hand this into my publisher. I’m serious.” She picked up the manuscript and tossed it into the fireplace. He stood up in shock.

“Mrs. Malfoy, what the hell did you just do? I didn’t tell you to destroy the bloody thing!” He went to the fire to try to retrieve it, but it was already too far-gone. He turned to her and said, “You’re insane. That took you four months to write.”

“But I thought you didn’t want me to have it published,” she complained.

“Since when have you ever listened to anything I’ve said? You’ve never respected my wishes before, so why start now?” He looked back at the parchment as it twisted and rolled and turned black from the flames.

She said, “Oh that was for dramatic effect. I have another copy. Scared you for a minute, though, didn’t I?” She smiled widely.

“You’re evil,” he said.

“Once again, I must remark that I learned from the best,” she said back.

He made a sour face and looked down at his baby. He said, “Look here, Henry, your mummy is a mean, horrible woman and I’m not even sure I love her that much anymore.”

“Oh, go on, you love me,” she contradicted. She walked out of the room, swishing her hips back and forth. He followed her as she started to walk up the stairs.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and said, “Mrs. Malfoy, where do you think you’re going?”

Instead of answering, she turned on the stairs and said, “Come here, Draco,” and she wiggled her finger toward her.

“That’s my line,” he said and smiled.

“I can use it, too,” she said shyly.

“Just tell me what you want,” he said, “for I don’t think I trust you.”

“I want to make another baby,” she said unassuming.

“What makes you think I do,” he asked, amused.

“Just a hunch, I guess,” she grinned. “Tell the nanny to watch Henry for a while, and then come join me upstairs. I’ll give you ten minutes, and if you’re not there at the end of the ten minutes then I’ll find someone else.”

“Who?” he asked.

“Whoever, maybe Scott, for he owns his own publishing company now. I could sleep with him and have him publish my books. It would be a win/win situation,” she answered, running up to their room.

He shouted up the stairs, “I tell you, he really is gay. Plus, I think I once heard him say he thought you were ugly.”

When she was completely out of sight, he went and found the nanny. He joined Hermione shortly, in their room. She was standing by the bay window, looking out toward the back garden. He asked, “Why aren’t you naked and in bed, waiting for me?”

“Draco, come here,” she motioned to him, as she continued to stare out the window. “It’s starting to snow.”

“So?” he said. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder. It did look beautiful outside, with the snow whirling around, coating the trees and ground in a lovely layer of white fluff.

She turned in his arms and put her head on his chest. She said, “Are you happy with the way everything turned out between us?”

“I never knew I could know such contentment,” he leveled, kissing her forehead.

“Is this the perfect life you pictured?” she quizzed.

“Yes, I have to say it is, the only thing that would make it better is if you were naked and on the bed, as promised,” he said, giving her lips a wishful kiss.

“Are you sure that’s all that would make it better? Think really, really hard,” she said, hesitantly.

He really did think for a moment, and then said, “Yes, I think that would make it perfect.”

She put one hand on his face, and stroked it up and down, “Did you read the last part of my manuscript?”

“No, I hadn’t finished it when you threw it in the fire,” he reasoned.

She removed herself from his arms and went to her desk. She took out another copy and said, “Read the last part, after the epilogue.”

“What, you wrote an epi-epilogue, or something?” he laughed. “How silly.”

“I prefer to call it a postscript. Just read the last few paragraphs,” she requested, opening the manuscript for him, and pointing at the sections she wanted him to read.

“That’s sweet, the couple in your story ends up in their bedroom, and it’s snowing, just like it is now,” he remarked, as he continued to read. He read the last paragraph once, looked up at her, and read it again. He looked at her one last time and said, “Explain yourself.”

“It’s all there in black and white, what don’t you understand?” she asked softly.

“It says here that the woman tells the man they’re having another baby,” he said, slowly understanding what she was trying to tell him. He said, “For goodness sakes, Mrs. Malfoy, can’t you ever just tell me in a traditional way that we’re pregnant?” He threw the book down, picked her up, and twirled her around.

He put her feet back on the ground and she said, “What fun would that be? So, are you pleased?”

“Of course. Henry’s going to be a big brother. I always wanted to be a big brother. Do you know what it is yet?” he asked.

“Yes, I know, do you want to know?” she asked.

“Does Potter have a hero complex? Of course I want to know, don’t be stupid,” he said back.

“It’s a girl. Isn’t that perfect? A little boy and now a little girl, and I'd like to name her Annabelle,” she said.

“Don’t I have a say in the name even?” he asked, holding her hands in his.

“What do you want to call her?” she asked.

“Annabelle,” he laughed. She gave him a smirk and he said, “What? I’ve always wanted to name a baby girl that, I can't help it if it coincides with the name you like as well.”

He kissed her lips and then pinched her arm. It had become somewhat of a tradition. He would pinch her every once in a while, to make sure that she was real and not a dream. She was surprised he hadn’t pinched her the moment he heard the news.

She said, “So, is it okay?”

“If it isn’t, what could you do about it?” he asked, adding, “But, seriously, this is the best news ever. I love you so much.” He put his hands on the sides of her face, and kissed her slowly and passionately. “If my heart hadn’t changed before, then Henry and this new baby would certainly have changed it. Thank you, Hermione.” He hugged her closely.

“For what?” she said shyly, pulling away from him and putting her hands on his chest.

“For loving me, and for giving me a family, and for showing me what a perfect life looks like,” he said, and he meant every word. "And most of all, for giving me a change of heart."

They stood wrapped in each other’s arms, with the bright light of the afternoon winter snow wafting all around them. If he thought his story was perfect before, and his happy ending complete, he was mistaken.

It wasn’t before, but now, it really, really, and truly was...The End.

<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents
[an error occurred while processing this directive]