A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don’t recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.
The Truth…Or Something Like It
Medea crept flew through her window with a yawn a week later. She’d been sneaking out all week and the bags under her eyes were proof. It was four in the morning now and she was beyond exhausted. It didn’t help that she and Patrick had determined that they were going to begin their plan and tell their parents they were dating today.
She wasn’t looking forward to it.
* * * *
“Dea!”
Medea’s eyes flew open. “What Jarret?” She surveyed her room with sleep soaked eyes and found him hovering just off the floor on her broom. “Jarret, get down! You’re not supposed to fly until you go to school!”
The seven-year-old stuck out his tongue. “Daddy let me fly while you were at school. And he told me you flew before school, too!”
She slipped out of her bed and grabbed her broom so her brother slid off the end. “You can fly when you have your own broom.”
“But””
“No buts! Get your own.”
He crossed his pale little arms and marched out of the room, passing his mother as she walked in. “Good morning, love,” she greeted with the usual morning smile. Medea had definitely gotten her night owl genes from her father.
“Morning,” she mumbled back.
“I told your father to wait at least until he was ten, but you know how he feels about flying.”
“I know,” Medea agreed. Then she realized that now was the best time to tell her mum about Patrick. Medea never questioned why, but she was always in the best mood in the morning. “Er, mum, could I talk to you about something?”
Hermione smiled even wider. “Of course, what is it?”
“Well, I’ve actually wanted talk about this for sometime, but I wasn’t sure how.” She decided just to come out with it…sort of. “I’ve been dating someone.”
Much to her relief, her mother smiled. “Who?”
The moment of truth. “His name is Patrick,”
This Hermione didn’t take so well. She swallowed hard. “Patrick…P-Potter?” she stuttered.
“Yes, and before you start telling me how wrong he is for me just know that I have never felt happier in my life. We’ve been together all year and I…” her words trailed. Her mother was no longer listening, or even looking at her. She was staring strait ahead with a glazed, hallow look.
Medea ran out into the hall. “Dad!” she implored urgently.
Draco poked his out of his bedroom door down the carpeted corridor. “What?”
“Please come here!”
He jogged down the hall in concern. “What is it?” He looked in her room and got the answer. His wife was sitting on the edge of the bed staring straight at the wall with a look he hadn’t seen in quite some time. “You told her about Patrick, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she answered nervously. “Why does she look like that?”
“Utter shock. Don’t worry about it,” he advised. He kneeled down in front of his wife and caressed her face. “Hermione,” he whispered lovingly. “Hermione.”
She finally looked down at him. “Our daughter…Patrick Potter?”
Medea joined her father on the floor. “I’m sorry, mum, but I love him.”
This time both parents stared at her in amazement.
* * * *
Her mother eventually got over her shock, but she didn’t talk to Medea the rest of the day. Draco stayed out of it, he, unlike his daughter, knew why Hermione had reacted that way. But he was glad that she had told her mother.
And deep down, so was Hermione. She wasn’t thrilled that Medea and Patrick were together, but that was mostly because she didn’t want Medea to get hurt. And she knew that the Potters wouldn’t take the news half as well as they had.
Medea didn’t quite realize how serious that situation was. That night she left the house at eight and apparated to London like she’d discussed with her husband. They were just going out for dinner then she was coming home. After sneaking out and meeting him every night for over a week…and never sleeping, she was exhausted.
She walked through Diagon Alley at a slow pace and thought back on her day. Much to her relief, her mum had been a great deal more surprised than angry. Of course, both of her parents had been shocked when she had said she loved Patrick, but it was only the truth.
Patrick sat in one of Diagon Alley’s outdoor cafés and waited for her. He smiled when she walked up and Medea immediately knew something wasn’t right. “You didn’t tell your parents, did you?” she asked even before he kissed her.
He frowned and looked away in guilt.
“I knew it, Patrick you have to tell them! I told my mum.”
“How did she take it?” he asked soberly as they sat down.
“She stared at the wall for nearly three minutes, but she was mostly shocked. She doesn’t have anything against you. My parents are mostly concerned that I’ll get hurt.”
Patrick took her hands in his and looked at her seriously. “I am never going to hurt you,” he stressed.
“I know,” Medea assured him, caressing his freshly shaven cheek with a soft smile. “And when they see us together, they will too. I promise. But you need to tell your family.”
He ran a hand through the dark auburn mess on his head. “Trust me, I know! What I don’t know is how to tell them.”
“Well, what did you tell them when you came here?”
“Job hunting,” he said.
“You’re starting Auror training, aren’t you?” she asked in confusion.
“Yes, I said I wanted to earn a little extra money before I start, just to get a little independence. Which is actually true.”
Medea smiled at him with a teasing glint. “We’re both going to need jobs out of the country unless you tell your parents about us.”
Patrick frowned again. “I know, I was going to, so I mentioned your name in conversation, just to feel them out and Uncle Ron spat your name and mumbled a few curse words. I guess I lost my nerve after that.”
“Patrick,” she breathed. “I am going mad! We are married; we should be living in a house that’s ours, and sleeping in our own bed every night.” She leaned in closer to him. “We should be making love all day like newly weds are supposed to do.”
“Believe me, I want that too, and we’ll have it in time, I promise. But right now let’s have a nice dinner together, okay?”
“No,” Medea said, standing up and pulling him to his feet.
“No? What do you mean no?”
She turned and pressed against him quickly. “Apparate to my house,” she whispered directly in his ear, then she disappeared.
“Wha”” he began but she was gone. He had no choice but to follow. “Medea, why are we here?” he asked when he joined her.
“Do you realize that we’ve been married for over a week and you’ve never even been in my house?”
“I had realized that. What about your parents?” This was normally their biggest problem.
“Don’t worry, there are old servant’s corridors from when the house was first built and””
“Medea,” Patrick said with a teasing glint in his green eyes. “We’ve been through this. This isn’t a house, it’s a country.”
Medea laughed. “Fine, but that’s not the point. One of the corridors leads directly to my room; because Malfoy woman used to all have personal maids. So we can take that from the side of the Manor and no one will see us.”
Patrick encircled her waist and pulled her to him. “And why are we doing this?”
“Because my room is my world; I want you to be a part of my world,” she explained.
“Would this involve you and me in a bed?”
Medea bit her bottom lip. She was still getting used to being so open about her carnal appetite. “Yes, that had crossed my mind.”
“And if someone comes in?” he challenged.
“I think between the two of us we can cook up some potent locking and sound proofing charms, just in case.” She took his hand and pulled him out of the trees. “Now come on!”
He wagged his eyebrows. “Don’t have to tell me twice!”