Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot.

A/N: Some notes for the story: 1) It takes place ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, with the Prologue set nearly a year in the 'future'. To keep up with the time line, please make sure to read the dates each chapter/scene takes place. 2) Most of the chapters will be from Draco's point of view, so his perception of unfolding events will be influenced by his personal feelings and ignorance of other people's motives. For example, when Snape killed Dumbledore, Albus pleaded with him; now, because we, as readers, watched the scene through Harry's eyes, we thought Albus was pleading for his life. But when we saw Snape's memories, we learned that Albus was really pleading with Severus to kill him. So keep that in mind when you read the story and try to withheld judgment

until the story is complete. I promise, everything will make sense then.

*Blaise says a line from Order of the Phoenix, which I, obviously, don't own.*

My Father's Bride...

Prologue

Saturday 26th, September 2009

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

"How are you holding up, mate?" Blaise Zabini's voice, laced with amusement – probably at his expense, the right bastard! – penetrated his thoughts, forcing him to look up; the tall, dark skinned, Italian wizard, dressed smartly in a dark blue Muggle tuxedo, had sidled beside him without him noticing.

Above his friend's shoulder, Draco could see all the young, single witches in attendance paying them extra attention, probably at the urging of their desperate mothers; it was a shame really that neither Blaise nor he were particularly inclined to pay them much attention.

A flash of familiar platinum blond hair caught his eye from the other side of the room; his body tensed unconsciously, but as hard as he tried, he could not stop his eyes from zeroing in on his father and his partner.

Unlike most wizards in attendance, Lucius had chosen traditional but fashionable, black wizard robes for the occasion, his long hair tied in a low ponytail with a green ribbon; probably to match his lovely date's dress.

His eyes followed the petite witch as she danced, her dress hugging her body sexily, her movements as fluid and graceful as Lucius'; honestly, they were a lovely pair, even he had to admit that. He bit back a snarl when he saw Lucius's hands travel a little lower than it was appropriate as the song slowly came to an end.

"Just peachy," he spat in answer to his friend, raising his champagne glass and swallowing the bubbling, gold liquid in one go, his eyes never leaving the young brunette as she curtsied to his father. A muscle in his jaw ticked when Lucius kissed her hand in a gentlemanly fashion before he led her to a group of a few close associates of his, and their dull wives. He deposit his empty flute on a floating tray near them, grabbed a tumbler of firewhiskey and drank that as well.

"Easy there, mate," Blaise cautioned, grabbing his wrist when he reached for another tumbler. "Lucius won't be happy if his only son causes a scene today of all days."

An inelegant snort escaped him.

"He does not need me to embarrass him, he does a fine job at it on his own," he sneered, clearly agitated.

"That's not the point –"

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously before he pushed him aside, and swept out of the grand room without a backward glance.

Blaise swore under his breath and made to follow him; the feeling of eyes on him stopped him before he reached the French doors though, and he looked over his shoulder; cobalt blue met amber.

For all intents and purposes, the witch seemed to be in deep conversation with the hideously dressed witch at her side, but her eyes – dark, remorseful – were on him. He would gladly bet his sizeable inheritance that like his miserable sob of a friend, she had been staring at Draco whenever the blond wasn't watching her.

The two of them were so pathetic, it made him want to puke.

The urge to march to her, and demand she go after Draco herself was strong, but he stomped it down, knowing it was futile; yes, the witch might share a large portion of blame for their current predicament, but Draco had not gone into this mess blind. He had known his actions were wrong, yet he had dived into this mess head first, without once pausing to think about the consequences like a damn Gryffindor.

They were equally to blame, but tonight – especially tonight, – was not the right time for a scolding; tonight Draco needed someone to be there for him for he had yet to hit rock bottom. Tonight, Draco needed a friend.

Throwing her a warning glance, he turned and followed his friend out the doors; the balcony that overlooked the gardens was empty of course. Draco wouldn't lounge there, not when anyone could have stumbled on him and interrupted his pity party.

No, pathetic as he might be, his friend still had his pride.

Sighing, he climbed down the marble staircase, silently pondering about the rest of the night; thoughtlessly, he walked perimetrically of the infamous labyrinth gracing the Manor's grounds since before Lucius was born, instinctively knowing where his oldest friend had sought refugee.

His instinct proven right – really, Draco was awfully predictable most of the time, not that he'd tell him that – Blaise let out a quiet sigh of appreciation.

The night was unusually warm for the season, and the half moon cast the clearing in a soft light as the tranquil lake reflected the moonlight; Draco sat on one of the stone benches surrounding the shore, his long legs outstretched in front of him, and his arms rested across the back of the bench. He had taken off his suit jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but his face was pensive as he stared at the still waters, his grey eyes slightly obscured by his long fringe.

A twinge of attraction trickled down Blaise's spine, but he quickly squashed it down; this was not a road neither of them were willing to travel. It spelled heart break for both of them but for different reasons.

The blond wizard didn't look startled when Blaise sat beside him; he let out a deep, suffering sigh, his expression resigned.

"You know, you are very inconsiderate right now," he jokingly commented, not taking his eyes from the lake. "Shouldn't you be back there, showing your father some support?"

He knew of course the reason behind Draco's behaviour, but he would not breach that topic until he brought it up himself; so far, Draco had refused to admit the truth, even to himself. If he wanted to move on, he had to come clean.

"Support?" he sneered, ignoring Blaise's eye roll. "For what exactly? Tarnishing our family name? For betraying my mother – "

"Narcissa died years ago, Drake," Blaise interjected calmly. "And have you forgotten your promise to her? Her dying wish?"

"No, I have not," Draco hissed, finally turning to look at him. "She asked us to live our lives, yes, but she never said she wanted him to remarry! Especially someone like… like her!"

"And pray tell, what exactly do you mean by that?" he asked, his amusement thinly veiled. Draco was almost there, he just needed a little help pulling the last of his head out of his arse. "Because I gotta tell you, Drake, from where I'm sitting, your father couldn't have landed a more perfect witch." Lifting a hand to silence his friend, he started ticking off said witch's attributes. "She's fucking brilliant, we all know that, she's better connected that you or your father, she possesses a sizeable fortune, she's well spoken, beautiful, kind but not a pushover, ruthless when she has her mind set on something, and let's not forget the fact that marrying into your family, she automatically ensures your name regains its former glory.

"Merlin's beard, did you know that since she started dating your father, your popularity has risen twenty points in The Daily Prophet's monthly polls?

"After tonight, who know what will happen?

"And don't even start on the blood purity bullshit. I know you know better. After all, Sofia, Melissa, Anna, they all were Muggles, am I correct?"

Draco remained stony faced and silent throughout Blaise's speech, his eyes passive, and mouth tight.

"So I ask you again; what the fuck is your problem, Malfoy? Really?"

His eyes flashed, he opened his mouth to answer –

Pop.

They jumped, startled at the sudden appearance of the tiny creature in front of them.

"What?" Draco barked, unable to contain his dark mood.

The petite elf bowed respectfully, his big ears trembling at his angry tone.

"Master Lucius requests you goes back inside, Master Draco. He's very angry, he is. And Miss Her–"

"Fine," he snarled, waving the small creature away. "I'm coming back, Tipsy, you can go."

He stood up as the elf disappeared with a pop, grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on easily, before starting toward the Manor, not bothering to check if Blaise was following.

"Can't even stand to hear her name, mate?"

"Shut the fuck up, Blaise. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know what?" Blaise asked, reaching out to grab Draco's forearm, and forcing the blond to stop and face him. They locked eyes, furious grey, and blazing blue. "You are absolutely right; I have no idea what I'm talking about, because I have no idea what the fuck happened between you two. Granted, I have my suspicions, but that's all they are; suspicions. You know why? Because you never told anything to me, or Theo; your supposed best friends, Draco! All we have to go on are Astoria's claims, and trust me, that bitch had a lot to say about you, and your future step mother!"

"Don't call her that!" He wrenched his arm free from Blaise's grip, and glared at the taller wizard.

Blaise rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Come on, mate." He groaned. "Ever since you got back from Greece, you've both been acting strangely; you avoid each other, and ignore each other whenever you are in the same room."

"So?"

"So," Blaise said, teeth clenched. "Mate, you always had something to say to her. Always. You loved arguing with her, rallying her up, even when you actually agreed with her on something, you'd start debating just to mess with her. Merlin, Draco, I've never seen you behave that way with any other witch! She's the only one who made you laugh!" His mouth pinched, his eyes darkened. "Mate… When you were with her, you…"

Draco felt his mouth going dry, his heart beating a tattoo on his ribcage; his eyes burnt, and he hated himself for it, for being weak.

No, no.

He hated her. She had done this to him, turn him into this pathetic, weak excuse of a wizard. She, with her brunette curls, her warm, amber eyes and luscious mouth that always seemed to smile; she, with her wit, and fire, and her kindness, she had unravelled him, and he had been left to burn in the aftermath, whilst she moved on, leaving him behind.

But most of all, he hated the fact that hating her was a fucking lie.

"What? I was what, Blaise?" he asked, tiredly. He was too damn tired to fight back, to argue or deny the truth. Blaise was too smart to be fooled after all, so what was the point of hiding behind a lie?

A lie he didn't even believe himself? No matter how much he wished was true.

After a short hesitation, Blaise looked away, "When you were with her, you were full of passion, life… I've never seen you so alive when you argue with someone."

Finally meeting his childhood friend's eyes, he finally asked the question they both knew the answer to.

"You are in love with her, aren't you?"

Draco looked away, his eyes narrowing.

"Blaise –"

"Draco."

Lucius Malfoy stood on top of the balcony staircase, his hair a halo as the light from the ballroom illuminated him from behind, and his cold, grey eyes on them, icy disapproval simmering in them. Blaise hadn't even noticed they had reached the Manor.

"Father," Draco coldly greeted him.

"Come," Lucius said curtly. "It is time."

Without another word, he span around, his robes swirling behind him, and entered the enormous ballroom.

"You might not like your father very much, Draco," Blaise whispered as they climbed the stairs. "But you've got to admit, the man has style."

Draco cracked the first honest smile of the evening, which got wiped off when they entered the opulent room, and saw Lucius standing on the raised platform where The Weird Sisters had been performing all night.

But it wasn't his father that held Draco's attention; it was the small figure beside him.

Considering how conservative most of Lucius's friends and colleagues were, Draco was surprised she had been allowed to wear that little number she had on; the green frock, obviously a nod to the family's affiliation to the Slytherin house, – was floor length, with a daring split all the way to her upper thigh. The spaghetti straps led to a dangerously low cut neckline, and criss crossed to the back, exposing her back all the way to her waist. Her legs looked even longer in the black, ankle strap sandals she wore.

Her cascade of brown curls had been twisted into a messy French twist, a few wisps framing her face; the only jewelery she had on was a diamond and emerald necklace, which drew attention to the soft swells of her breasts.

His heart had kicked violently when he saw the necklace; it had been a birthday gift… from him. Seeing it on her neck as she stood by his father… He'd felt nauseated.

Even from across the room, he could feel how nervous she was, with all eyes on her; her tiny body was unusually rigid, her chin raised in stubborn defiance, her eyes challenging the strangers to judge her for being there, with Lucius Malfoy.

Draco knew he was the only one who noticed her startled jump when his father wrapped a casual arm around her slender waist, a smirk gracing his lips; his gut twisted, his heart beating wildly when her eyes, wide and anxious, scanned the room before colliding with his, a silent apology simmering in the amber depths.

Warm, moist lips moved against his, a petite hand tangling in his hair, while the other hesitantly traced his wet abs... a groan as he pressed her harder against the wall, her whimpers falling in his hungry mouth as he reached down to grab her silky thighs, and lift her off of the floor, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist, crushing her small body on the wall... the sound of ripping fabric as he tore her white sun dress off of her body, and feasted on her heaving breasts...

"Ladies, and gentlemen –"

His father's voice brought him back to the present rather forcefully, and he inhaled sharply, fighting down the waves of raw lust that assaulted him at the sensual memory. Guilt gnawed at his insides, and he shut his eyes, knowing what was coming.

"I am sure many of you wondered at the reason of his event," Lucius waved an elegant hand around the room. "Truth is, I, no we – "he pulled her closer to him, his smile growing wider. She tried, unsuccessfully, to match his smile but Draco knew her honest smile. "We have an important announcement to make, so I thought, what better way than to have all our friends here? Save us the trouble of sending each of you an owl!"

A few chuckles in the crowd made Draco roll his eyes; really, his father had never been good with speeches, which was a surprise given his upbringing.

Clearing his throat, Lucius continued. "Yes, an important announcement indeed. But first things first. Draco, where are you, son?"

Like you don't know, he thought, sarcasm twisting his features as Lucius stared directly at him.

"Ah, there you are." His smile turned warm. "Come up here, my boy."

No... Don't do this to me, father, please.

Lucius's eyes hardened in warning, and hers filled with remorse as she realised his predicament. Draco felt his stomach twist, and he prayed he wouldn't make a fool of himself on stage.

"Of course, father," he drawled, plastering an amicable smile on his face. He patted Blaise's shoulder when his friend squeezed his arm in sympathy, and crossed the room in long strides, a feeling of impending doom weighing down on his shoulders with each step he took.

And when he climbed the two steps to the dais, and stood beside his beaming father, he wished he had been struck dead on his way there.

His memories of her did not do her justice; up close, she was even more stunning in her sexy dress, and the sight of so much creamy flesh exposed, stoked the simmering desire inside him.

I wonder if she still tast – No! Stop this, right this instant! You are not allowed to entertain such thoughts about her, not any more, you sick fuck!

"Here, stand by me, son." Lucius indicated his other side. His father's smile was as genuine as his, and Draco wondered, not for the first time, if Lucius had truly smiled since Narcissa's passing.

Forced to walk around her, he couldn't help inhaling her scent – vanilla, peaches and ink, – and the young wizard had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reaching out to her; the urge to grab her and kiss her was almost overwhelming.

"As I was saying." Lucius resumed his speech when Draco was at his side. "After months of courting this lovely woman, and after much pleading on my part, she has finally accepted my hand in marriage. We are to wed before this year comes to an end!"

The news hit him like a brick; he had known of his father's plans to announce their engagement tonight, but he had no idea the wedding was to take place so soon. Knowing his father's expensive taste and preference for grandeur, he would have guessed they'd need at least a year to organise the wedding to his standards.

It's not like you have a say in the matter, he reminded himself bitterly. And really, it's better this way.

His torment would be short lived; and after the deed was done, he'd not have to interact with her again, with the exception of the few obligatory family gatherings every year.

Looking down at the guests, Draco almost smiled; half of them were staring in open mouthed surprise, and the other half talked among themselves, occasionally throwing quick glances at them.

Blaise, he noticed with annoyance, had joined Theo near the refreshment tables, and they were staring up at him sympathetically.

Sensing her discomfort at the continuous silence, and catching the slight tremble of her hands out of the corner of his eye, he inwardly cursed; at his inability to ignore her when they were in the same room, and his need to ensure her comfort despite his own suffering.

Clearing his throat loudly, he extended his hand to his father, plastering a conciliatory smile on his face.

"Congratulations, father," he said loudly, trying his hardest to sound sincere.

"Thank you, son," Lucius said, grasping his hand and pulling him in a hug.

Rolling his eyes behind his father's back, he endured a paternal pat on his back before pulling away, awkward smile still on his face; Lucius stepped aside, evidently waiting for him to congratulate the future Lady Malfoy as well.

Heart firmly lodged in his throat, he gritted his teeth and grasped at the last remains of his self control to keep from screaming, when Lucius gently pushed her forward, and Draco found himself closer to her than he had been since that fateful day nearly a month ago.

He reached out to take her significantly smaller hand in his, and raised it to her lips; it didn't escape his notice that she was shaking, but he was too overwhelmed with emotion to take satisfaction in the knowledge he was affecting her as much she was affecting him.

"Welcome to the family, Miss Granger," he enunciated clearly, keeping his tone cordial but emotionless.

But when he made the mistake of looking into Hermione's eyes, he saw the same passion and desire burning him up reflected there, and he almost lost all semblance of control.