A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don’t recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.
Don’t Tell Mum
Draco walked down the main corridor of his ancient family manor. It was good to have his daughter home, but considering that she was finished with her schooling now, it was bittersweet. And it didn’t help that from the moment she’d stepped off the train he had sensed a change in her.
As he swept past the front door, a letter slid under it. Even thought this wasn’t an unusual thing per se, it still caught his attention. Especially when he saw his daughter’s name scrawled on the small note in an unrecognizable hand. If he recalled correctly, no one had ever written his daughter with the exception of the school.
He didn’t really know why he did it, maybe it was his childhood habits coming back to him, but he looked around before he bent down to pick it up. The note was simply folded and creased, so it was all too easy for Draco to unfold the parchment and read the note. It read: I can’t stand this, I have to see you. Come out at midnight, I’ll apparate to your front yard. Desperately”
Then Draco let the paper fall to the floor. Surely he hadn’t read that. It just couldn’t have been that name…that last name. Reluctantly he retrieved the note from the floor and looked at the elaborate signature once more. It said Patrick Potter.
Unbelievable.
Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do. What if it was a cruel joke? He knew from experience that kids could be cruel, and when love was mentioned, it was the worst kind. What if that’s what this Potter was doing? Of course, he knew Medea could handle it. She’d grown up with two ostracized parents; they’d taught her to have thick skin.
But what worried him most was what seemed to him the least possible explanation. What if this Potter really meant what he said? He’d always been very close with Medea and the prospect of her keeping something from him hurt more than the thought that she was carrying on with a Potter.
He ultimately decided to let Medea deal with it; then he’d know what was really going on. He climbed the staircase and walked back to her room. Luckily it was empty, so he put the letter on her bed, hoping it looked like an owl had just dropped it.
The one problem that still plagued him was weather or not he should tell his wife.
* * * *
As Medea walked back to her room, she was floating on cloud nine. She mentally ran over Patrick’s note, remembering every word and emotions described by them. She could clearly see the curve of his penmanship and the things written between the lines that he was still to shy to say to her.
When she closed the door to her bedroom, she immediately pulled the letter out of her pocket and read over it again. But as she blithely fell onto her bed, paper crinkled under her. Rolling on her side, she picked up the small, folded piece of parchment. She recognized Patrick’s hand and another smile came to her face. She read the brief message and held it to her chest.
Midnight. Her parents were usually in bed by that time, and even if they weren’t asleep their room was far enough away from the front door that she could easily sneak out, since she couldn’t apparate out of the house. She looked at the bewitched Muggle alarm clock on her nightstand; it was only half past seven. How could she wait that long? The short hours had already been agony.
But she made it through by looking for a new job. If she ever wanted to get out of the house and be free to see Patrick whenever she wanted, she had to have an income. And with her potion skills, she should be able to find something.
After looking at her clock for the hundredth time, it finally struck twelve. She hopped up from her chair and crept out of her room. A light still shone under her parent’s door at the other end of the hall so she walked slowly and silently down the stairs and out the door. Then she was home free. The moon was full and she could clearly see her copious yard. He wasn’t there yet.
She frowned. He had said midnight, hadn’t he? She sat on the grass and stared at the forest that surrounded the estate. Maybe her clock was ahead. He’d be there.
Sure enough, eventually she heard a soft voice. “Medea?”
She jumped up with a smile. “Over here!” she said as loud as she dared.
He appeared out of the trees and had her in his arms in no time. “Medea, this is killing me.”
“I know, I know, but it’s just until we can move out on our own.”
He shook his head as it rested against her forehead. “That’s not good enough, I want to marry you.”
She took a small step back and looked on his moonlit face. “Are you serious?”
“Never have I been more serious. If we’re married they can’t stop us from seeing each other,” he reasoned.
Only one word could possibly pass her lips. “Okay.”
A bigger smile had never parted his lips. “I don’t have a ring, but I’ll get one”tomorrow.”
But Medea pressed a finger to his lips. “I don’t need a ring to know I’m yours. Just as long as I am I’m happy.”
He held her face and kissed her with all the feeling that he’d been building up since he’d last seen her. Granted, he’d just seen her earlier than day, but it had been the longest time they’d been parted since the beginning of their relationship. “Can we go tonight?”
Medea’s chocolate eyes widened at his anticipation. “No, we have to get stuff in order first. And it’s late.”
“How about next week?” he asked desperately.
As she looked up at him she realized that it would be hard for her to wait that long. “Yes.”
And then he said the words that Medea had been longing to hear all year…and he’d been longing to say. “I love you.”
She kissed him furiously and for once her tears were purely from happiness. “I love you too.”
It was a quarter past two when Medea slid back into her family home. Much to her surprise though, she wasn’t alone.
“Hello, Medea.”
Medea closed her eyes in despair and slowly turned around. “Hi, Dad.”
“Were you with Patrick Potter?” he asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.
“You knew?” Medea asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you try to stop me?”
Draco gave her a fatherly smile and closed the space between them. “Trust me, Medea; I have no right to stop you if he’s what you truly want.”
“He is.”
“Then I’m happy for you.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “Thanks, Dad, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
When she pulled away, though, she had one last concern. “You’re not going to tell Mum, are you?”
Draco hesitated before he shook his head. “As much as I hate keeping things from your mother, I think you should tell her when you’re ready. It shouldn’t come from me.” He turned to go up the staircase.
“Dad,” she stopped him. “Are you angry? I mean, Patrick knows his parents would never stand for it. How do you feel?”
“Me? I just want you to be happy. But I’ll warn you that your mother probably won’t feel the same.” He kissed her cheek and headed up the stairs.
She sighed and headed to the stairs herself. “I was afraid of that.”