Chapter 19, Pot Meet Kettle

"Drake! Drake! Drake!" A small boy streaked through the sitting area, weaving his way nimbly through the various adults seated in an uncomfortable circle around the tea set. Draco watched Jack's bare behind disappear around the corner, the child's voice somehow getting louder and higher pitched though he was moving away. Draco gave an apologetic tilt of his mouth as he got up to calm the boy down. Or to at least find out where the toddler's underpants went.

Not without a sense of relief did he leave the tense atmosphere of Arthur and Molly Weasley, Hermione, and Bill Weasley. He ignored the imploring look Hermione shot him.

He hadn't lied to her when he told her that he'd be honored to be Jack's godfather. Not only was she entrusting him with her only son, but she was doing it knowing full well who he was and where he'd come from. Taking into account their background, it was something he wouldn't have been able to envision.

That thought was at the back of his mind as he caught the screaming boy in his arms, walking towards Jack's room to get some clothes on him. If he had a hard time accepting it, he couldn't begin to think how the Weasleys' were going to reconcile themselves to it.

Being honest to himself, he did have bitterness in the fact that they would still, all these years later, just think of him in terms of his name, his background. Wasn't this what these "heroic" types had fought directly against? Prejudice and hate just because of one's lineage and one's name? They couldn't accuse his family of discrimination towards mudbloods and half-bloods if they were just going to turn around and do the same to purebloods. It was so one-sided that he wanted to place himself in the middle of that awkward gathering and scream his head off.

However, Draco was not a demonstrative person, in anger or in any other form of emotion and so he continued to bottle it up. Hermione probably sensed some of this in him at times, her eyebrows drawing together in concern whenever she mentioned anything about the Weasley family and carefully trying not to make him feel excluded. Except it was so obvious that he was.

Jack squirmed out of his grasp as soon as they'd reached his room, tumbling over onto the ground like one of those trained monkeys they'd seen in a circus Draco'd taken him to. The boy rounded out the imitation with hooting calls that sounded more like an owl than furried-animal. Unable to hold onto his irritation in the face of Jack's behavior, he captured the playing child once more with one arm as he dug out a pair of pants to cover him, ignoring his protests.

"Drake! No! No! I'm free! I'm—" The pants were over his naked bottom.

Having lost, Jack was apparently done with Draco, immediately plopping himself down to grab the stuffed Blast-ended Skrewt that he'd chewed and manhandled for the better part of two years. As the child busied himself making fire-breathing sounds and attacking the furniture in his room, Draco reluctantly walked back to the living room.

He caught Hermione's eye as he stepped through the doorway, but she was in the middle of saying something so didn't move further in so as to not interrupt her.

"—been there for Jack for his entire life. I trust him with my son." Her voice was firm, her chin set at a subtly defiant angle. He was sure that it was an unconscious motion and he felt something loosen inside of him at hearing her defend him.

There was silence following her pronouncement. Molly seemed the better of the three, nodding in understanding to what she was saying, only a slight crease between her brows. Arthur sat forward, hands clasped between his knees, looking like he was really considering what Hermione had said.

Bill was obviously the most opposed to the idea. He was leaning back on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest, his head tipped forward as he contemplated Hermione from lowered brows. He was the one to break the silence, probably voicing what the other two Weasleys were unwilling to say.

"I understand what you're saying, Hermione, but do you really want to sign over the responsibility of your son to him?" If Draco was hearing the incredulity in Bill's tone, he was sure everyone else was, too. "It's not like Jack doesn't have five other uncles who could be his godfather, people who are actually his family."

Hermione shook her head. "Are you talking about you? Or Harry? Or Percy? Who all have kids of their own? Or George, who splits his life between here and the U.S.? Or Charlie, who follows where the dragons go? Are you talking about them?"

Draco was surprised at the vehemence in her tone, starting to feel like he was intruding on some inner family discussion even though his name was involved. He started to move back out of the doorway, intending to go back to Jack's room, but Hermione stopped him with a look. "Draco is Jack's family, whether he's actually related to the rest of us."

Hermione heard the words come out of her mouth and felt heat suffuse her face, but wouldn't take them back. They were true. She wasn't even sure why she was blushing other than the fact that she'd never fully acknowledged him as such and wasn't something she'd even discussed with Draco. Stealing a glance at the tall man in the doorway, she felt some of her embarrassment fade as she saw the softened edges to his face.

Gesturing, Draco walked further into the living room, coming to take a seat next to her in the extra chair Hermione had brought in from the dining room earlier. Bill gave the younger man and Hermione a hard glance before getting up from the sofa. "Well, you've obviously already made your decision about Jack's future and I don't see why you even needed input from us. I'm not sure Ron would approve."

With that parting remark, he made his way out of the cottage, ignoring his mother's gasped "Bill!" and the crumbling of Hermione's shoulders. Draco's hands fisted on his knees, but he remained seated, not wanting to cause a further scene that would upset everyone even more.

Molly turned to her husband with a stern glare. "Arthur!"

The man needed no further prompting, sighing regret as he slowly picked himself up off the couch. "I'll speak to him, Molls." He moved past Hermione, pausing to lay a wrinkled but kind hand on her shoulder before going outside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Hermione forced herself to look up, meeting Draco's eyes, noting the anger simmering underneath that mask that fell over his features when he experienced stronger emotions. She glanced at his clenched hands which he visibly relaxed as he regained control.

"I'm so sorry, my dear." Her attention returned to her mother-in-law, her blue eyes perhaps faded in color as time had passed, but still as sharp as she remembered them from when she was a girl. "He didn't mean it, but I guess, it's just hard, growing up the way he did. Knowing the history of our families." Molly finished, looking at Draco.

He nodded, not feeling it the time and place for him to air out his grievances against the bigotry in Bill's actions and attitude.

"He did mean it, Molly. He's being just as bigoted as Draco's family was towards us!"

Apparently, Hermione did not have the same consideration. He couldn't help but join Molly in looking at her in surprise. Her face was still a little red from her earlier vehemence and Bill's outburst, but she continued over it. "I get that his last name is 'Malfoy' and that his family and some Purebloods were on Voldemort's side in the War, but that was years ago, and Draco is not his father, his mother, his aunt or Voldemort!"

Silence followed her impassioned statements. Draco, having never really experienced someone defending him because she believed in him and not his money or family, didn't know what to say or do.

Molly's gaze turned to him, taking in the look of shock on Draco's face and perhaps reading more behind that look than he was comfortable with revealing, as her eyes softened. Turning back to Hermione, her voice was soothing as she agreed. "Yes, Draco here is not the same man as his family and I've seen Jack enough with him to know that he feels safe around him—around you." She corrected herself, wanting to ensure that Draco was included in the conversation.

Draco tilted his head in acknowledgement, a small but sincere smile finding its way to his lips.

Her hand came out to capture his, the calluses from handling wands, pans, and seven children telling their history against his skin. He suddenly felt very young as Molly turned her motherly gaze on him. "You've been a fine young man to this family and if Hermione and Jack trust you, then I do, too. This family will back you."

He felt robbed of breath at this. The famous Weasley hospitality and warmth wasn't something he'd ever been privy to or even desiring, but this small concession on Molly's part, the matriarch of the family, he recognized as being valuable.

AN: OMG I'm so sorry. This is short and a bit abrupt because every time I opened this up to add to it, I couldn't. I've added other parts of the story in the future chapters, but this chapter...ugh. I'm trying to get this wrapped up soon, but I really just needed someone else than me to read this so am putting this here. Thanks for sticking it out with me!