Behind the Veil
Pairing: Dramione
Rated: T (for language)
A/N: Here's chapter two, in which we get to see inside Draco's head and how he feels about everything...
Special thanks to Yuli, for dealing with me and my comma issues.
Chapter 2
July 2001
Hermione's flat
Sydney, Australia
Hermione awoke groggily. It was Sunday, the day after the Head of Law Enforcement's birthday. Hermione rolled onto her belly, as the previous night's events flooded her. She remembered Malfoy, she remembered dancing, and she even remembered the awkward handshake they shared at the end of the night, not knowing where they stood with each other.
Sitting up, Hermione looked at the clock; it was nine thirty. She sat up and messily mussed up her hair more before going off to the bathroom. But something on her desk caught her eye. She stopped and, walking closer, saw it was a gift.
As she leaned down to pick it up, she saw it was an ornately decorated box twice the size of her clutch purse, with a bow on top. The box sat upon a piece of parchment. Hermione picked it up and, in neat script, read:
Thanks for last night,
Good luck with your aspirations.
D. Malfoy
Hermione could feel her insides twist as she opened the box. Inside it contained a jar which, at first glance, seemed to shine and shimmer in different colors. But as Hermione got closer, she saw that the jar in fact contained Opaleye scales.
She gasped. Opaleye scales were rare, extremely rare, especially because they were rarely seen. One was lucky to get a container with three scales, or four, but a jar? That was almost unheard of. Hermione continued to spin the clear glass jar and observed the seemingly changing color. Opaleye scales were highly valued for researching purposes, especially in long, complicated potions. Half an Opaleye scale could pause the brewing of a potion for twelve hours, allowing the brewer a break or rest before continuing with brewing.
She couldn't accept this. It wasn't her place to take something like this from Malfoy. She had to give it back. Luckily, she knew where he'd be today. He was observing the construction of the new Malfoy Industries building, which was down the street from the Ministry of Magic.
Before she went, though, she had to get ready. She promptly took care of all necessary hygiene and food needs that she had. Dressed in a way that she felt was business casual, she took the jar of Opaleye scales, slipped them into her purse, and left the house for the nearest Apparition spot.
Landing outside the Malfoy Industries building, she saw that they were making major progress in the building. She entered cautiously, not knowing if it was really her place to. Running into a couple of construction workers, they directed her to his office, the highest room in the building. At least the lift was working.
Once on the top floor, Hermione noticed that this area of the building wasn't done, either. The walls only looked half solid, and the floor looked like it could give way any second. But that was the risk with magical construction.
Making her way to the last door in the hall, Hermione felt her shoes sinking into the floor, and hoped that she wouldn't slip completely through. Once she reached his door, she knocked three times, and called, "Malfoy?" She hated sounding that helpless, but what's done was done. She waited a few moments before she heard the door open.
Pushing it open wider, she saw it had done so on its own accord. Stepping in, she found the floor much more solid. She looked around, finally finding Draco standing a ways behind his desk, glancing at her. "Granger? Come in."
She swallowed and walked in further before taking a seat opposite his. She felt the awkwardness that came with the next day wash over her. Yesterday, they had been so close, so openly free to say whatever by the end of the night. But today, with the light of day looming over them, it was hard to resume that cordiality. "I – I got your gift."
"Ah, did you like it?" he asked.
"Yes, I mean no, I mean, yes, I liked it, but I can't accept it."
She began to draw the jar from her bag, before he said, "Of course you can."
"No, this is too nice of a gift for you to give me. I can't."
She placed the scales on the desk. "I don't want them back, Granger. They're a gift for you. I have no need of them."
"Well, you can give them to someone else -,"
"They're yours," he interrupted. "Throw them away if you don't want them."
She could barely resist the urge to drop her jaw. "Throw them away? Do you know how valuable these are?"
"Yes, I paid for them," he said in all seriousness. Hermione blinked. Yes, he had paid for them, and at who knows what price. "You told me you wanted to research cures, and I find that profession noble. And so, I have decided to aid your process. Can't you accept that?"
"But I hardly know you, Malfoy."
"We can change that, if that's what you are worried about." Hermione looked up. What did he mean by that? "Come on," he said standing, offering her a hand.
"Where are we going?" she asked hesitantly.
"Out."
"Like on a – date?"
"You may call it a business meeting if that makes you feel better, Granger." His bitter tone didn't escape her, but at the same time he lowered his hand, offering it to her, almost like a peace treaty.
Despite this, Hermione still didn't know if she should accept or not.
"It's just one 'business meeting', Granger."
Hermione looked up; his gaze was an exact replica of yesterday's, daring, trying to push her to the limit. Except, today, there was less need of it, because there was much less hesitation and reasoning put in before she placed her hand in his.
She didn't know why; she didn't think it was a smart idea. But, at that moment, all that seemed to matter was that she wanted to.
She hadn't noticed until he had pulled it back out later that day that he had taken the jar of Opaleye scales off his desk as they left. And when he gave it to her the second time, she couldn't find the heart to say no.
March 9th, 2004
Malfoy Manor
Draco sat over his paperwork, looking past it out the window. It had been a year and a month since he had seen her up close, a year and a month since she had left his life. He had been looking forward to that meeting for the past week. When he had seen her name written on his schedule, he had done a double take to make sure it was really her.
The meeting, though, did not go as he had hoped. He had hoped it would run smoothly; he had hoped she'd still try to act civil. But she started saying things, requesting he not call her by her first name. Calling him Malfoy like he was her proper boss and that was it. Acting as if what happened between them never had.
She was so angry at him, so riled up, so ready to just yell and jump to conclusions at everything he had said, that in the end, he had gotten mad with her as well. And he had added fuel to the fire of their conversation.
Until it exploded, combusted and she began to run.
He knew he shouldn't have gone after her; he knew that she didn't want him to. Truly, deep down she didn't. He could tell the times when she wanted him to come after her, but that wasn't one of them. And he had done it anyway. He had waited so long to see her, pulled so many strings to get his hands on the Griffith Company. He didn't want her to disappear again so soon.
The slap, it hurt. But physical pain wasn't what she wanted to get from him through it. It was the emotional pain she was trying to show him. Because even as she slapped him, he could see tears welling up in her.
Why was she mad at him in the first place? What exactly had gone so wrong in her mind that made her so furious? Wasn't she just as fault?
The grandfather clock chimed below Draco's feet; Draco looked at his wristwatch – it was eight o'clock. It was time for his mother's medicine.
A tray appeared at the corner of the desk with his mother's medication. He took it and began to walk to his mother's rooms.
Draco's mother had been sick, terribly ill for over a year now. His mother was the reason Draco had come back from Australia. The doctors didn't know what was wrong with her. In fact, the medication Draco was giving her wasn't to fight the disease that plagued her. It was only fighting the side effects. Fatigue, shortness of breath, fainting spells; his mother's entire strength seemed to be disappearing every day. But, despite this, no healer could give an explanation.
The only glimmer of hope was that she seemed to be improving. Not needing as much medication anymore, her health had begun to improve these past few months. And Draco hoped it would continue. He knocked on his mother's door before poking his head in. "Mother? It's time for your medication."
Narcissa Malfoy lay in her bed, her face pale, her hair looked like a few hours ago it might have been pristine, but had since then been slept on. Upon Draco's entrance, she looked up from her book and smiled. "Draco, dear," she said with a smile. Her face still had little color, and for that Draco worried.
"How are you feeling?" he asked whilst pouring out her dosage.
"Better," she said before clearing her throat.
Draco smiled and handed his mother her medication, before giving her a glass of water to wash it down with. She took Draco's hand as Draco sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure you are okay? Perhaps you should rest." He tried to take the book from her.
"Oh, I am fine, dear, don't mind me." There was a short pause, before, "I heard it has been a few days since you took Asteria out."
"Yes, mother, I've been busy."
"Well, take her out for dinner, then. I can eat with your Father."
Draco took in a breath; he wanted to tell his mother that, despite the wedding coming up in a month, he didn't love Asteria. He wanted to tell his mother about Hermione. In all honesty, he wanted to call the whole wedding off.
But how could he when his mother liked Asteria so much? How could he when his mother seemed to be so excited for the wedding? And he knew he would feel exceptionally guilty if he did the aforementioned things when the woman he truly wanted had someone else. So, instead of saying all those things, he said, "All right, Mother. If it makes you happy, I'll take some time out to see her."
"Oh, that's excellent, Draco! I can't wait until you two marry."
Draco nodded before getting up. "I guess I better owl her."
His mother was completely for it, telling him he should do it quickly before she made other dinner plans.
Heading for the family's owl quarters, he wondered what Hermione would be doing that night.
Hermione's Flat
"…And then he literally burned my resignation letter and said, 'Resignation not accepted,' as if it's his choice!"
Hermione took a deep breath before falling down on the couch. She had been pacing. She was furious over the situation with Malfoy. And when Ron showed up at her door to take her to dinner at the Burrow, well, there was no holding it in.
She felt relieved to just tell someone the situation and release some of her frustration, although she was careful to withhold some parts of the story, the parts that would have had Ron suspicious about her past with Malfoy. Hoping she hadn't revealed anything, she looked to Ron; he was staring at her in an odd manner. Hermione raised a brow. "What?"
She watched as his gaze shifted from her to the fireplace, then to his hands. Was he suspecting something? And then he said, "Don't you think you're being a bit temperamental over all this? I mean, he has some good points."
"Are you siding with him?" she asked in shock.
"No, no," Ron jumped in quickly. "I just think you've been acting rather…uptight about all this."
"I thought you, of all people, would at least agree with me when I say Malfoy is a complete arse."
"Yes, I do agree, but he has changed. We aren't thirteen anymore, Hermione." She sighed. Yes, she knew they weren't students anymore, and she shouldn't act as if they were, but she couldn't help but get riled up over all this. It was Malfoy, for heaven's sake. How was she supposed to remain calm? But looking at Ron, who was giving her a rather sheepish look, she thought that maybe, perhaps she should take a step back and just relax. "So," Ron's voice cut into her thoughts, "what are you going to do?"
Hermione let out a breath. "I guess what I have to do, really. Continue my work at Malfoy Industries until I get the rights of my potion back."
Ron looked to her, staring at her for a long time. She didn't know why, but she found his gaze odd, and she was about to tell him to stop when he stood up. "I guess we should head off to the Burrow now, Mum's waiting."
Hermione's eyebrows crinkled together at the seemingly abrupt change in conversation, though as she continued to think about it, it wasn't so abrupt. She figured it was just her that hadn't quite thought the conversation was through yet. But she was feeling hungry, and she knew she shouldn't be giving Malfoy the right to occupy her mind so much, so she nodded and stood up to fix herself up before heading off to the Burrow with Ron for dinner.
Draco stared at his meal in front of him. The food was excellently prepared, and suitable to his tastes, but for some reason whenever he ate with Asteria, it was as if all food went bland, and all wine tasted flat. And so he was always stuck simply staring at his plate and waiting for her to finish eating. And that was never a quick task either, it was something that seemingly took forever because Asteria liked to talk.
It didn't matter if there was only two of them, or if there was a thousand people listening, or if no one was listening at all. She just liked to talk. "And so Draco, my Mother said, 'you need to invite our relatives from Germany', but I told her that is impossible, because we already have 500 guests on the invitation list. But my Mother kept on insisting, and she even went and asked your Mother about it, and then they decided to make room for another 50 guests, and it's just completely exhausting…"
Draco could have sworn the last time he checked the invitation list was at 200, but then again he never bothered to keep track of these things. The less he knew about it and had to think about it, the better.
She paused suddenly, and Draco looked up, eyes immediately focusing on her plate. With that disappointment, he looked at her. Her face told him she wanted some kind of reassurance he was listening. He nodded slowly, before she smiled and continued on.
He shoveled another bit of food in his mouth, hoping perhaps this time it would distract him from the sound of her voice.
Outside Malfoy Manor
Draco was ambling outside the Manor when an owl dropped a letter on him. Draco looked up, about to blast the creature into oblivion, but it was dark and late, and by the time he spotted the damn beast, it was out of blasting range.
Muttering to himself, Draco picked up the letter and reverted his anger to the writer, who shouldn't have been contacting him at this bloody hour, anyway.
Tearing it open, he saw the simple words:
You're late.
Draco groaned. He had forgotten he had promised Greg he'd have a drink with him that night. Turning around, he walked back toward the front gates before Apparating.
He appeared in front of the Red Phoenix. It was one of those pubs that was borderline sleazy. The reason he and Greg used it so often was that, inside it, no one cared who the hell you were.
He entered and found Greg at his typical table, with a girl in his lap. That was very typical of Greg these days.
Draco hadn't been the only person to change after the war. Greg had, as well. He had taken his bullying, thuggish self and turned his limited talents into a profession. Sublimation, some would call it. After the war, Greg set up a rather profitable company that, in essence, set curses. He basically set curses on vaults and offices for his clients to protect said locations from thieves or curse breakers. Draco considered it to be curse-setting, though Greg insisted his company was a "Security Service" and that he was a "Security Associate". Despite what it was called, Draco knew that the business wasn't reserved to honorable clients, though he never questioned Greg on the subject.
Draco approached the table, setting some privacy charms before sitting down, to the ignorance of Greg and the girl he was trying to swallow. Draco leaned back. "I don't really see why you even requested my presence; you seem to be having a hell of a time as is."
Greg broke off the kiss with the girl. Looking to Draco and ignoring the fact that there was girl in his lap, he said, "Look who decided to show up."
He then sweet talked the girl to leave as Draco watched. It always surprised him that girls were willing to do anything that had money attached to it.
When Greg turned his attentions back to Draco, he pretended to be engrossed with the new bottles of whiskey that the host had put on their table. "That bad, huh?" Greg said then.
Draco snapped his gaze at him. "You don't know what the hell you are talking about."
Greg let out a guffaw. "I may not test as well as you, Draco, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I could tell you were anticipating the meeting with your mystery girl when we talked last week. But today, you seem just as gloomy as you normally are."
Internally, Draco groaned. He really needed to watch his facial expressions more; he was getting sloppy. But then again, keeping his facial expressions in check meant caring that they were in check, which he rarely did these days. He grabbed one of the whiskeys and took a drink. "What happened?" Greg began, prying for information. "Is she affianced? Is she married? Did she find another man? Did she not remember you? Did..."
He was sure to keep his face blank as Greg continued his questioning. It was times like these that Draco regretted telling Greg about Hermione at all. Of course, Greg only knew some information; that they met in Australia, that she didn't have the best blood status, that he really loved her. Of course, Draco hadn't exactly shared this information with him willingly. It took five firewhiskeys before any of that information came out.
"Are you going to tell me or not?" Greg demanded. Draco gave him a glare, which only made Greg laugh and take a swig of his whiskey. "She must be a hell of a girl. Or perhaps a hell of a lay-"
"Don't go there, Greg," Draco said threateningly.
He raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, keep her to yourself. How's Asteria?" he asked then.
Draco could never really understand how Greg could just jump topics like that. "Had to eat dinner with her tonight. It was dreadful."
"I don't see why you are complaining about her. She's pureblood, she's rich, she has a decent body… what else do you want in a wife?"
He wanted so much more than that. But he didn't respond to Greg's comment. "Is there any particular reason you called me out at ten o'clock at night?"
Greg's eyes alighted with the change of topic. He grinned. "I wanted to ask you about your stag party."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I already told you I don't want to have anything to do with Asteria's wedding."
"It's your wedding too, mate. You should let loose and have some fun before you're shackled to your gorgeous fiancée."
"Perhaps I won't have to be," he said, smiling into his whiskey.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Draco shrugged and took another drink. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.
He purposely didn't answer Greg's question and jumped to a new topic, not wanting to reveal anything before it happened. But deep down, he did hope that if everything went well, his relationship with Hermione wouldn't be all that bad in a couple of days.
A/N: Thanks for reading!
I know Goyle is on the no-no list for best friend options for Draco in Dramione fics, but I like to give him some credit. I don't think he could have been that dumb... :)
Disclaimer: I do not profit from this story. All creative rights to characters belong to their original creators. I am not JK Rowling.
