Chapter 112: I Don't Take It Personally

                                    

                                          
Author's Notes: I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, with everything that's happening in the world, I've still got assignments to complete and I need to pack to go home on the 30th March.  Anyway, I hope you're all well and staying safe. 
                          
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Draco asks his wife, sitting at the bottom of the staircase with Scorpius on his lap, watching Hermione pulling on her boots.

                          
"Yes, I'm sure," she sighs. "We've been over this, Draco, I'll be fine. I'm not going to drink or eat anything, I'll have my wand in my pocket, and I'm not naive enough to believe everything your mother says." She pulls on her jacket.
                          
"Just be careful," Draco stands, Scorpius cradled in one of his arms.
                          
"I always am," she smiles, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Besides, you've got a fun afternoon ahead of yourself."
                          
Draco rolls his eyes. "Tea with your friends; how did I get roped into this?"
                          
"It's a Daddy Play Date," she laughs, kissing the top of Scorpius head.
                          
"I despise that," Draco stares at her.
                          
"I'll be back around six o'clock." She takes his face in her hands, pulling him into another goodbye kiss. "Enjoy yourself." She grins as she leaves, walking towards the gate of the Estate at the thought of Draco, Harry and Ron getting along together, without their other halves there to keep them on their best behaviour. It was sure to be an awkward afternoon for her husband.
                          
Her face falls to a frown as she realises that her afternoon wasn't going to be much better. She'd finally given in and agreed to visit Narcissa and listen to whatever excuse she had given to both Draco and Harry to make them keep asking her to listen to the older woman. Although Draco had assured her that he had in no way forgiven her, he just now understood why she'd acted the way she had. At the gate, she takes a deep breath before apparating to the Manor.
                          
Mitty opens the front door with a broad smile and a bow so deep that Hermione needs to remind her she doesn't need to do for her.
                          
"Mitty happy Hermione come back," Mitty tells her, closing the door bend her as she enters.
                          
Hermione smiles sadly, wishing she could visit the house-elf without being near her mother-in-law.
                          
"After today, I might be able to visit more often, perhaps," Hermione tells her.
                          
Mitty nods understandably. "Mitty make all sandwiches. Mistress not touch any sandwiches. Mitty very angry with Mitty's self after not stopping Mistress." She frowns to the ground.
                          
"It was not your fault, Mitty. Draco and I do not blame you." Hermione assures her.
                          
"Thank you, Hermione," Mitty bows again.
                          
"Where is Narcissa?" She asks.
                          
"Mistress in library," Mitty tells her.
                          
"Thank you," Hermione walks with Mitty to the library doors, watching as the house-elf continues to the kitchens. She tells herself she can do this, before knocking and entering the library.
                          
In the centre of the room, Narcissa is sat in a pale yellow armchair with a hefty tome on her lap and a teacup and saucer in her hands. Beside the armchair is a side table with a teapot, sugar bowl and a small jug of milk.
                          
Her mother-in-law glances up at her entrance, a small smug smile on her lips as she places her teacup and saucer on the side table, along with the tome, before standing up.
                          
"Hermione, I didn't think I would ever see you again," she admits, opening her arms.
                          
Hermione stops six feet away from the older woman, frowning at the open arms.