A/N: JK Rowling owns this wonderful playground, not me. –le sigh. Title from Bryan White's song of the same name.
Update! 10/9: Due to overwhelming support, this is now part 1 of 3 of the Stargazer Series. Thank you so so much for the love!
Someone Else's Star
Their first fight wasn't so much their 'first' as it was their first as an official couple. Narcissa Malfoy sat primly in her little corner, reading a novel whose spine would have been thoroughly butchered if not for her wand.
"Oh my gosh, that's Mrs. Malfoy!"
"The Death-eater's wife? Why is she here?"
"I heard she was pardoned."
"I heard she slept with the minister."
"Don't you know anything? She saved Harry Potter's life."
"Oh. So maybe her husband was the bad one?"
Such whispers followed her wherever she went. It wasn't surprising really, especially with her being a Slytherin. But she endured it as she endured everything else, graciously and with an air of carelessness. For all they knew, she was completely absorbed in her book.
Ah, but Narcissa Malfoy was an expert at eavesdropping. Despite having once been on the arm of one of the most powerful wizards in the world, she could disappear if she wished. It truly was astonishing how quickly people forgot a person if said person was quiet enough and still enough.
But the angry hiss from three tables over required none of her subtlety. A young woman with thick auburn hair turned flashing eyes on the young, red-headed man next to her. Hermione Granger, her mind supplied, sitting with her fiancé, Ronald Weasley. Narcissa pursed her lips. Fighting in public. How tacky. And—oh. There. Of course she would storm out. She had all the grace of circus animal.
Giving an almost imperceptible shake of her head, Narcissa turned back to her book.
S
Their second fight was at Gringott's. Narcissa resisted the urge to shift her weight as she stood in line. Right behind her. They decided to do this right behind her. Draco had once complained that he seemed to be cursed with close proximity to the Golden Trio, even when he went out of his way to avoid them. She thought he was being melodramatic but perhaps there was some truth to it. Maybe it was just their blood.
"We are not going to discuss this here, Ronald!" Granger snapped.
Well, obviously that wasn't true.
"Look, I'm sorry I make more money than you but you're just going to have to get over it."
Narcissa closed her eyes. Oh honey. A lady never says that to her man, especially where others could hear.
"'Mione, I just think we should put it in a joint account," Weasley replied. "You know, for a house or something."
"Oh sure, it'll be for a house then as soon as you see something you just have to have, I'll look at the balance and suddenly we'll be missing a hundred galleons."
"It was one time and you said you weren't going to bring that up."
"It was my money."
This time, he stormed away and Granger stood grumbling and swearing to herself for a full two minutes. Then, it seemed she realized where she was and she went silent. Narcissa almost sighed in relief except she could hear the girl fidgeting. Honestly, no wonder it was so easy for them to fight. She practically telegraphed everything, made the air so thick with tension that someone had to snap or they would go mad. Did the girl not have any education at all?
Narcissa finished her transaction with the little goblin and stepped aside to put her purse in order. Granger moved up to the counter, allowing the older woman her first good look at the girl since the war. Her forced smile was passable, as was her greeting. She was quite obviously upset but the wall was up against anyone who might ask.
They had fought about this before. Narcissa could tell in the wanness of her face, the way her skin tightened around her eyes. Not good. If they were having such large rows now, what happened when they officially married? From the girl's fidgeting, she could already tell she felt trapped. She could imagine how much worse that would be when there was another ring on her finger.
Narcissa had spent entirely too much time just looking so she made a discreet pat for her wand and walked outside. Draco stood at the bottom of the steps in a crisp, charcoal grey suit, glowering at anyone who looked at him for too long.
"All finished, dear," she said with a smile. He returned it though his shoulders remained stiff as he offered his arm. Her chest swelled with not a little bit of pride at how well he carried himself despite everything.
"Darling," she asked. "Do you remember Hermione Granger?"
Grey eyes glanced sideways at her.
"Yes."
"Has she always been so…emotional?"
A snort, a toss of his head.
"She is the single most obvious person in the world," he said. "Why?"
"Just a thought. Where would you like to eat lunch?"
S
Their third fight was, ironically, at the third annual celebration for the end of the war. All of the wizarding names worth naming appeared in their finest, parents, students, ministry officials. Narcissa and Draco sat with the Greengrass family, she in robes the color of emeralds, he in sharp black and white dress robes.
"Oh, there they are."
"They're here? I didn't think they'd come. You heard about Lucius."
"And a toast to that."
"Still, I feel so bad for them."
"I don't. If you ask me, they got off easy."
Narcissa took a deliberate sip of her wine. They had gotten the news just yesterday. Lucius had been found dead in his cell in Azkaban. Some suspected foul play, either from other prisoners or the guards themselves. She had no opinion on the matter other than to silently curse her husband. She loved him, true, and she had stood by him these many years. But there had been far, far too many bad decisions.
At first, she had been too young and too enraptured to know the difference. Married to a powerful, well-bred man, pregnant with his child. She was the perfect pureblood daughter. Then Andromeda happened. Then the Dark Lord disappeared. She didn't care what her husband did as long as it kept their son safe.
So she let him play the coward. Let him be a coward. The Dark Lord's occupation of their own home had brought them together like nothing else, mutual panic for their son forced to grow up entirely too fast. Lucius made the hard decisions to take care of his family and had led them away from the battle. Everything was fine. Their family was alive and safe.
That was the end of his strength. He wasn't executed. They weren't imprisoned. But for his loyal service to the Dark Lord, he was sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban. No dementors this time but that didn't make it any less harrowing. She thought he would be strong enough to wait for them. She thought they mattered enough for him to come home.
Apparently not.
"Mum." Draco's soft voice made her blink. He didn't ask if she was all right; he wouldn't embarrass her like that. Narcissa smiled—how easy it was—and touched his hand.
"I'll be right back," she said. He stood when she left, so polite, and she made her unhurried way to the ladies' room. She had no intention of losing her composure, not here. She just needed a minute.
Granger beat her there. The girl stood at the sink dressed in a red-and-gold sequined ball gown, her hair in a ridiculously lacquered French twist. Her mascara ran horribly with her tears and her entire face had grown red and puffy. Some women were beautiful when they cried. Granger was not one of them.
The girl jumped when she came in, tried vainly to wipe her eyes.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy," she said. "I'm sorry."
Narcissa watched her try to put herself together.
"I was sorry to hear about your husband," Granger said through her mucus-thick throat. "Are you and Draco okay?"
Somehow, the fact that she had asked even when so blatantly in her own pain meant more than any of the polite condolences they had received from the ministry. Narcissa wet a paper towel and approached the girl, wiping expertly at the mascara streaks.
"Curl your toes next time," she said. Granger blinked at her.
"Pardon?"
"Keep your toes under your skirt and clench them, not your hands. Keep everything from the waist up relaxed."
The girl's eyes widened and she looked so young. Older than Narcissa when she married Lucius but still…
"You've set a date," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," Granger said, a cloud passing over her face. "October 24th of this year."
"Congratulations." Narcissa reached into her purse, the younger woman only flinching slightly, and pulled out a small compact. It had been a gift from Draco, black enamel inlaid with mother-of-pearl in the shape of a lotus. An expensive and high-class gift from a ten-year-old. Lucius must have—She took out the sponge and started dabbing at Granger's cheeks.
"It hurts," Granger whispered.
"I know, dear." Narcissa kept on dabbing. "I know."
It took a few more minutes to fix her make-up then Narcissa replaced the compact and turned to the mirror to check her own appearance. She turned forty-two this year. Except for a few wrinkles around her eyes, a little shadow in the corner of her mouth, no one would ever know. The Blacks always did age gracefully.
Satisfied, she turned back to the girl.
"Ready?" she asked. Granger took a breath, visibly steeling herself, then nodded. Narcissa had to admire that. Draco may have been right in saying she was the most obvious person in the world but she also endured Bellatrix' torture without breaking. 'Obvious' did not always mean 'weak.'
"All right then." Narcissa led the way back to the ballroom. "Remember. Toes. And smile, dear. You're supposed to be happy."
Granger smiled and she had to give her credit. She almost believed it.
S
"They're not going to last."
Narcissa looked up from her paper to see Draco sit down across from her. Still in his pajamas, his hair barely finger-combed, his scowl looked much less intimidating. She hid a smile. Actually, it looked rather cute.
"Who isn't?" she asked, sipping her tea.
"Granger and the Weasel."
"You sound worried."
Draco shrugged, picking at something on his sleeve.
"She was…nice to me. When we went back."
"I remember. You're sure those late night talks were just talks?"
"Mum."
She smiled and picked at a nearby biscuit. Draco had written her many times during his eighth year of Hogwarts. At first, it was as expected. He didn't want to be there, why couldn't he come home, no one listened to him anymore. It was a humbling experience for him, one that pained her to watch him go through. But he needed to get himself sorted, away from the nightmare that had become their house. He hated her for it.
Then, a few months in, his writing started to change. And much of it was about Ms. Hermione Granger. Of all the students at Hogwarts, the "golden girl" was perhaps the only one on his intellectual level, the only one that could keep up with him.
"Did you want to go to the wedding?" she asked. He scoffed and signaled to a house elf for tea.
"I wasn't invited, Mother."
"Everyone is invited." She tapped the front page with one manicured nail. A picture of the happy couple sat laughing and waving on the front, probably from their engagement party last month. Granger at least looked the part.
"I want to go," she said.
"Mum."
"I've already decided. You don't have to if you don't want to."
Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Okay. Okay, I'll take you. But I'm not going inside. I don't fancy someone hexing off my—"
"Yes, dear, I understand." She sent him a mildly reproving look and he grinned. "I'm going to pick out something to wear."
S
In the end, she decided on a midnight blue gown with a silver-and-pearl girdle. She hadn't worn it in years, not since she was engaged. Still, she felt it oddly appropriate.
"Are you taking a gift?" she asked.
"No." Draco looked at her like she was crazy. "Why would I get them a gift?"
"Draco."
Her son looked away, a not-quite-blush on his cheeks.
"I sent her a book a couple months ago. First edition of a kid's book she had been looking for."
"Oh darling, that's so thoughtful. What was it?"
He mumbled something.
"What was that?"
"'The Last Unicorn.' It's a muggle book."
Well. That was unexpected. She didn't say anything else as they apparated to the church. Everyone who was anyone had shown up, including what looked to be all of Hogwarts. Next to Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, this was the wedding of the century.
"Her parents," Draco whispered, motioning to a rather out-of-place couple up front. "And this is where I disappear."
"You're sure you won't stay?"
His grey eyes clouded.
"You remember that Arabian horse show we went to a couple years ago?" he asked. "The yearling?"
"Not the most flattering image," she said. "But yes, I remember. Magnificent creature. Much too good for that fool that bought him."
"Yeah." He offered a small smile and slipped back down the hall, leaving her to enter the sanctuary alone. She slid into a back pew and waited. A few people whispered but most of them were too focused on the jittery redhead at the front or the over abundance of flowers filling the room. Narcissa could see Molly Weasley's hand in all this. The woman always did overdo everything. There was probably enough food at the reception for a third-world country, not to mention whatever wine they had.
Strange that this whole affair wasn't at the Burrow. That must have been Granger's request then, a church wedding. How sweet.
At last, they all stood and some ancient woman started pounding out 'Here Comes the Bride' on an equally ancient organ. The great doors opened, they held their breath, then Granger stepped into the aisle wearing a full-skirted white gown covered in lace and pearls. A lace veil fell over her thick, auburn curls and a large bouquet of a dozen types of white flowers weighed down her hands, trailing almost to her knees.
She was smiling; of course she was smiling. Still, Narcissa could see how tight she clenched that bouquet, how her lip trembled.
Oh, child.
She could almost see herself at that age, walking down an aisle that was just as decorated, holding her flowers just as tightly. She had her duty and Narcissa Black was nothing if not dutiful. Her eyes started to burn as she watched Granger until the crowd blocked her line of sight. Well. She wasn't the girl's mother. If this is what she decided, she certainly wasn't going to—
A chill swept through the crowd. A shiver, a gasp. The organist faltered.
"I'm going to need a moment or two," Granger said, her voice strangled. A second later, Granger had hiked up her skirts and fled back out the double doors. Heart pounding, Narcissa ran after her, just that little bit quicker than the girl's mother.
She found her crouched in a small room off the main hall, arms clasped tightly around her shoulders.
"Mrs. Malfoy!" Granger leapt to her feet, flailing wildly to keep her balance. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I can do this—"
"No." Narcissa's chest twisted painfully as she caught the girl by the shoulders. Granger crumbled in her grip.
"I-I can't do this!"
"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger ran in, frantic and only slightly more put together than her daughter. Narcissa stepped out of the way, letting her run to the trembling girl.
"Mum!" Granger tried valiantly to stop her crying but the safety of a mother's arms was a beautiful thing and the comfort of it undid her.
"Let me through, let me see her, where's my girl?" Molly Weasley's voice roared through the hall and Narcissa clenched her toes. One terrified look from Granger was all she needed to magically lock the door against the blustering woman.
"I'm sorry. You are?" Mrs. Granger barely turned.
"Narcissa. My son went to school with your daughter."
"Deborah."
She nodded. No need to tell her everything else. Not here.
"Hermione, are you in there?" Weasley shouted, banging on the door. "Are you all right, dear? Open up, sweetheart."
Dear Merlin, subtle, the woman was not. Across the room, Granger shuddered and blew her nose.
"I just need a minute," she said. Deborah cupped her face, kissing her forehead, and wiped away her tears with her thumb.
"It's okay," she said. "Whatever you decide, it's okay."
Narcissa felt at once silly for intruding and privileged to see such a thing. It must have been worse than they thought.
"Hermione!" Weasley called. Granger chewed hard on her lip.
"I don't wanna do this anymore."
"Okay, baby, okay." Another hug, another kiss. Granger took a breath and looked at Narcissa.
"I have to tell them. I have to tell Ron."
A Slytherin wouldn't but then, she was a Gryffinder. Reckless courage and all that.
"Mum, could you go get Ron please?"
"You don't have to do this now."
"Yes, I do." She faltered at the wording but lifted her chin. "Please, Mum."
"Okay." Deborah shared a glance with Narcissa then slipped out of the room, as careful to keep out Weasley as Narcissa was to lock the door behind her.
A sudden, rather hysterical giggle drew her attention to the bride.
"I'm crazy," she said. "I'm completely bonkers. This is going to ruin everything. Everyone'll hate me."
"Yes."
"I still have time. I could still fix it."
"You could."
"It's the right thing to do."
Narcissa narrowed her eyes.
"Is it?" she asked. Granger screwed up her face, rubbing her arms.
"Hermione, baby?" There was a soft tap at the door. "It's Mum."
Granger started to hyperventilate and Narcissa grabbed her arms.
"Slowly," she said. "In…out…there we are." The older woman lifted her chin, straightening her shoulders, and Granger tried to mimic her.
"Do what you have to," Narcissa said quietly. "This is the rest of your life. You cannot disappear."
Something in the words, something in her voice, made Granger look up and stand a little straighter. Narcissa could see the lion's pride shine in those toffee-colored eyes and she nodded.
"Good. Ready?"
Granger took a breath and smoothed her dress.
"Yeah."
Narcissa turned and unlocked the door. Deborah stood there with the Weasley boy. Behind them, his loudmouth of a mother, her other children, Harry Potter, and about five or six other students stood crowded in the hallway.
Narcissa leveled her best Malfoy look at them all, daring Molly Weasley to say anything. Deborah and the Weasley boy slipped past her and the door shut.
"Mrs. Malfoy." It was Potter that spoke first, perhaps the only one not truly afraid of her. "Mrs. Malfoy, is she all right?"
"No."
"What did you do to my—"
Narcissa narrowed her eyes at the youngest Weasley girl and stalked away down the hall, slow, careful, all the way to the front doors. Draco stood leaning against the wall of the church. He straightened immediately and fell into step with her. He knew better than to ask questions. Instead, he took her hand and apparated them both back to the Manor.
S
"Did you hear? Ginny Weasley's up for the Tri-Wizard Tournament!"
"Yeah right, like she would ever get picked."
"I hope she does. Take everyone's mind off the wedding."
"I heard Granger was drunk."
"I heard she was pregnant. With Victor Krum's baby!"
Narcissa turned a page in her book, a new series of romance novels, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn't above gossip; one couldn't be an effective socialite and not know how to work the gossip chain. But really, some topics were just inane.
"Um…hello. M-mrs. Malfoy?"
She looked up to see none other than Hermione Granger, the poor girl twisting her purse strap in her hands.
"Hey, Frizzy-face."
Hermione sent a glare across the table to where Draco sat, his own book forgotten. He just smirked back.
"Hello, dear," Narcissa said. "Won't you join us?"
"Oh um…thanks. I just wanted to uh…" Granger cleared her throat and sat down in the chair between them. "I just wanted to thank you for—for everything. Before."
"You're welcome." She smiled and the girl offered a small smile back before turning awkwardly to Draco.
"How have you been?" she asked.
"Busy." Draco closed his book and casually folded his hands in his lap. "You remember the debate we had about the Secrecy Act?"
"You mean your family interacting with muggle businesses before the Act then claiming they never did?"
He smiled and tipped his head, earning him a delighted squeal.
"Draco, that's wonderful! I thought you were just looking into foreign investments but that's fantastic!"
Her son almost seemed to glow under the praise even as he glanced at his hands. Granger just kept chatting, peppering him with questions as if she had been dying to talk to him these last few years. Her eyes sparkled and her smile was so refreshingly bright.
"Audrey Hepburn," Narcissa said. The children blinked.
"What?" Granger asked.
"Mum's guilty pleasure," Draco supplied. "She loves muggle movies from the thirties and forties. Her favorite so far is Casablanca."
"Yes, and you remind me of Audrey Hepburn." She tilted her head, thinking.
"Ms. Granger—"
"Hermione. Please." The girl blushed. "I'm just Hermione."
"Hermione." Narcissa set down her book. "What are you doing later today?"
"Oh Mum, no."
She waved off Draco's put-upon groan and took Hermione's hand.
"The Spring Gala is coming up. I'm going to make you my pet."
"I—what?"
"Draco, you can do whatever you like." Narcissa got up and pulled Hermione to her feet. "I'll see you at the Manor. Love you."
"Love you too."
"But—what—Draco!"
"Just roll with it," he called after them. "Steer into the skid."
They apparated to Narcissa's favorite salon down the street only to have Hermione nearly backpedal into a display case.
"Mrs. Malfoy, really—"
"Narcissa."
"N-narcissa, I really must protest. I can't afford anything like this and I don't even think I'll be going."
"My treat."
Her eyes got even wider.
"Oh! I couldn't let you do that! I mean—"
Narcissa put a hand on her shoulder and the girl fell quiet, though she still looked like she might bolt at any minute.
"Hermione. You are a strong, independent witch, one of the most spirited young women I have met in a long time. But…I think you may have lost that somewhere."
Tears pricked at the girl's eyes and she glanced away, chewing on her lip.
"It's been hard. Everyone expects…"
"Yes, dear. But what do you expect? What do you want?"
Hermione looked around the salon, at the chattering stylists and high-class women.
"I want to be me again."
Narcissa waved a delicate hand and a handsome, middle-aged man with perfect hair and a devastating smile approached them.
"Andre, this is Hermione Granger. Make her feel beautiful."
S
"This is a bad idea."
"Oh, Draco, really."
"Mum, I'm only going to say this one more time: This is a bad idea."
"She looks stunning; I am so proud of Andre."
"Okay two more times: This is a bad idea."
Narcissa straightened her son's lapel, swatting away his hands when he tried to stop her.
"I'm proud of you," she said, her voice painfully steady. "You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, Mum." Draco finally caught her hands and kissed her cheek. "You're sure you want to do this? It's one thing to make her your project. It's another thing for her to go with me."
"I am aware of the implications."
"And you're okay with it."
"Does she make you happy?"
"Yes." He didn't even hesitate.
"Then you will treat her like a queen."
"Well, that's a given." He smirked. Merlin, so much like his father. Narcissa touched his cheek, her eyes a little damp, then she cleared her throat.
"All right, Hermione," she called. "Come on out."
The door to the master bedroom opened and Hermione walked to the top of the stairs. There were no frills, no cheap sparkles, no overly large flowers. Instead, Hermione stood with her hair in one long curl over her shoulder wearing a long, sleek gown of violet silk. White gloves rose to her elbow and a small diamond choker rested on her throat. Her lips pulled in a shy, delicate smile when she saw them.
"Hi."
It took a moment for Draco to find his voice.
"Hi."
Narcissa could barely hide a smirk as her son took the steps two at a time to offer his arm.
"Remember, dear," she said as they walked down. "Head up. Back straight. You are with the Malfoys now and what do Malfoys do?"
"Survive." Hermione smiled up at Draco and Narcissa wished, not for the first time, that she had a camera.
"Ready to start a fight?" Draco asked. The younger woman's smile turned the slightest bit Slytherin as she looked back at the door.
"Are you?"