Ambition's End: Arranging the Board
Disclaimer: These characters still are not mine.
It was too early in the morning when Hermione awoke on Monday. The weekend had been long and horrid and utterly exhausting. She had been grateful that she didn't rate an invitation to stay for dinner at Malfoy Manor as she had enough of dealing with them after her little tête-à-tête with Narcissa in the gardens. She had spent the next day with her family, feeling slightly guilty that she hadn't taken the time to tell her parents her news before then. That had been uncomfortable, to say the least. Both her mum and her dad had been very disappointed to hear that she was marrying a wizard. Dinner had become a rather stilted affair after she had announced her news, and she had hardly eaten a thing due to all the tension at the table. Hermione had long suspected that they were hoping she would settle on a nice Muggle boy who would help them all reconnect as a family. While her mother had asked that she bring Malfoy over one night so they could meet him, Hermione sensed that neither of them was actually enthusiastic about the matter. Rather they both seemed resigned to the fact that their daughter's upcoming nuptials would be the nail in the coffin for their hopes of her returning to the world they knew.
After she had finally arrived back home last night, Hermione had just enough energy to take a bath before falling into bed. She had fallen asleep while fretting over her parents. They had grown apart over the years. Hermione knew that her parents didn't feel very comfortable or safe when visiting the Wizarding World, after they got over their initial rush of curiosity about it. That was one of the things that Hermione wanted to change; she hated how there were those who thought her parents were less than humans simply because they couldn't use magic. It wasn't any wonder that many Muggle-borns felt removed from their parents the more and more integrated they became with the Wizarding World. That had to end, and Hermione had long planned to be the harbinger of such change. She hadn't slept well at all because of such thoughts, and when the smell of eggs woke her up, what she wanted to do was roll over and stuff her pillow over her head so the food wouldn't be so much of a temptation.
However, the aroma of eggs was soon joined by the greasy tang of bacon, and Hermione willed herself to get up and out of bed so she could address the problems of the day. She pulled on a dressing gown and made her way to her kitchen. There was only one person who felt at home enough to start using her Muggle kitchen after Apparating into her flat without any prior plans. Harry, and Ron by extension, weren't due back for a couple of days, but they must have finished their mission early. Unquestionably they too had heard the news and so had decided to confront her first thing. She supposed she should be grateful that they hadn't woken her up. As poor as her sleep had been, it was better than no sleep.
"Good morning, Harry. Good morning, Ron," Hermione said as she walked into the kitchen. Harry was busy cooking the sort of fried breakfast that she usually didn't bother with as it took up too much time, and she could use that time for something else. Ron was in the midst of setting the table, which already had a plate of toast and a pot of tea ready to go in the center.
"Good morning, Hermione," they chorused in response. The two wizards then exchanged a glance. Hermione sat herself down at the table, knowing what was to come.
"She doesn't look like she's under the influence of Imperious or the like," Ron commented.
"Fine. I'll give you that. But that doesn't mean that she hasn't been the victim of a love potion. Amortentia perhaps?"
Hermione grinned at the two of them. Some things never changed. That was a comforting thought; no matter what might happen, Harry and Ron would be there to help her out whenever they thought she needed their help. Of course, she didn't need their help in these circumstances so she was going to have to make them see that. That wouldn't be too hard a task.
"I take it you heard the news then," Hermione said airily. She speared a piece of toast and put it on the plate Ron had placed before her only moments before. She smeared a generous portion of jam on it and then took a bite.
"When was the last time you ate?" Harry asked as he put the last of the eggs on a platter. He handed the platter off to Ron, who took it to the table and then sat down. "And yes, we heard. We got in last night—"
"A bit ahead of schedule. Everything went all right? Or did something else come up?" Hermione interjected.
"Yes, everything's fine. Aside from the fact that as soon as I get back, I'm besieged with owls telling me all the latest gossip about you and how you've been bloody impossible to reach about the whole thing," Harry said forcefully. "Not exactly the sort of happy homecoming I was looking forward to."
"I'm sorry," said Hermione. It seemed that all she did these last few days was apologize to everyone who found out about her betrothal. That was getting to be tiring, but she reminded herself of all the things she would be able to do because of it. "I didn't want you to find out that way. I was planning on meeting you when you got back. I was actually hoping to be waiting for you so you could hear it from me first, but you're early so I didn't get that chance."
"You could've owled us," Harry said reproachfully. "Why did I bother to wrangle a promise that any urgent owls from you will be sent on to us no matter what if you don't plan to use it?"
"Your mission was more important," she replied reasonably. "I didn't want you to worry—or worse, come back early without completing it."
"That sounds like the Hermione I know and love," Ron said. "Relax, Harry. She was going to tell us."
The bacon now well done, Harry put it on a plate and then walked over to the table with it. He set it down on the table harshly. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I don't see how the witch I see before me can be the Hermione I know and love when she hasn't started begging me for my help in getting her out of the mess she's in."
"There's that, I suppose," said Ron. "I don't think that she thinks that she's in any sort of mess."
"No, I don't," agreed Hermione. She took put some eggs and bacon on her plate beside the toast.
"Still don't think that she has been dosed with a love potion?" Harry grumbled.
Ron rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "No, I don't. Because I can't see Hermione not recognizing either the smell or the after-taste or something about any love potion, and then getting the help she needs."
"Thank you, Ron."
"Maybe it's something in the water," Harry muttered to himself. Hermione sighed at that remark. There were times when Harry could be a bit of a prick. He hadn't even bothered to ask her yet for her reasons.
"Maybe you should ask her why she agreed to marry the git," said Ron around a mouthful of what looked to be bacon. Hermione smiled graciously at him. It had taken ages for her to get it through his head that she always had a reason for everything she did. She had taught him through trial and error to ask her why she was doing something if it didn't make any sense to him. If she couldn't supply a reason, then he was to start worrying about her.
"I don't know about that. Does she have a reason that will explain this?"
"Of course," said Hermione at the same time as Ron. The two grinned at each other. Hermione gestured for Ron to continue with his explanation.
"Oh, she has a reason. Hermione has a reason for everything," explained Ron. "Mind you, it's not always a good reason and then it's bloody hard to get her to see sense, but she always has some sort of explanation up her sleeve. I'm a bit surprised you haven't figured that one out yet."
Hermione held back a smirk. That would be because Harry was always more trusting of her than Ron so she didn't bother to beat into his head the fact that she never did anything without having some motive in mind. Neither of them needed to know all the effort she had put forth in learning all their habits and then in making allowances for those habits.
"Okay. So please tell me, Hermione. What harebrained excuse do you have for not telling Malfoy where to stick his damn proposal?"
"To save the world," she replied jauntily. She crammed a large bite of toast into her mouth. She didn't want their conversation to turn too serious too fast, so she thought it best to play it a bit loosely for now.
"That's a bit more loony than most of her explanations," Ron grumbled. "I swear Harry, she's having you on. She's probably also doing this to make me look bad."
"How did you know?"
"I don't know why but you seem to take much pleasure in making me look bad."
"You needn't bother to do that, Hermione," Harry said. "He can do that on his own."
"Too right that," agreed Hermione.
"Remind me why I'm still friends with the both of you."
"Because there's no one else who will have you," Hermione answered. She took note of the brief flicker of fear that crossed Ron's face. One of Ron's weak points was that he still nursed an inferiority complex, even after all that he had done, and he couldn't convince himself completely that people wanted to associate with him outside of the fact that he was friends with the great Harry Potter. It was part of the reason why he hadn't had any successful relationships after Hermione had called it off. She wished she could help Ron, but there wasn't much she could to do counteract his living for years under the impression that he had to prove himself worthy, first to his family and then to his friends. That was something Ron would have to figure out how to deal with on his own. Until he did, Hermione would keep in mind his insecurity whenever she had to influence him.
"Don't look so glum," she told him softly. She punched his shoulder. "I'm just trying to keep the mood light. You know how prone Harry is to brooding whenever he thinks something's wrong."
"That's not nice, Hermione," Harry told her sternly.
"True though," Ron said, his spirits lifted by Hermione's words. "He does have a tendency to go through a gloom and doom phase when he worries, doesn't he. At least you don't have that problem with me."
"That's because you're not the sort to worry about anything," Harry shot back. "And we're getting off track here. We didn't come here to talk about mine or Ron's personal failings. We came here to see what we need to do to get Hermione out of the situation she's found herself in."
"Absolutely nothing."
"I'm not going to take that as a response."
"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized again. She softened her voice and cast her eyes to the side. "I should have warned you, but I didn't want either of you to convince me that I shouldn't do this. That answer I first gave you—to save the world—it wasn't entirely in jest."
"What do you mean?" Harry moved his chair closer to Hermione's. Reaching out a hand, he lifted up her chin so that her eyes met his. "Hermione. Tell me. What is it?"
She batted his hand away and looked off to the side. "Mind you, as far as I know, there's no sort of plot in the mix against you or the Ministry or against Muggle-borns in general. But in case you haven't noticed, things aren't going well. There's this enormous chasm that persists between them and us."
"That's their fault, not ours," asserted Harry.
"Yeah, we've tried to reach out to them," Ron agreed.
"Yes, I know that we've made our efforts, but looking back, I can see how those efforts might have seemed insincere. But what I was going to say is that there's still a large gap between us. I think Malfoy has noticed it too. There are some people who won't even acknowledge him when he's out and about." She lifted her head up and met his stare, making her eyes appear wide with sincerity. "So when he came to me with his proposal, it was with the idea that we would be setting an example for everyone. If the two of us could mend our differences in such a drastic manner, then no one else could have an excuse for not trying to get along better."
"Is that it?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"I won't allow it." He gritted his teeth together. Apparently he was going to be stubborn about this.
"Excuse me?"
"I said I won't allow it. I won't let you throw your life away because you've been taken with a fool notion that you'll be making the world a better place by marrying Malfoy. You're better than he is. You deserve so much better than him. I won't let you do this."
"I can't believe you just said that." Hermione allowed a note of revulsion to creep into her voice. "I never thought I would hear something like that coming from you."
"What?" Harry stood up. Hermione followed suit.
"You heard me." She matched Harry glare for glare.
"Maybe it's time we should take a break from this," Ron said hesitantly.
"No Ron," Hermione said quickly before Harry could respond. "We'll have this out here and now. That's what you came over for, isn't it." She took a step towards to Harry. She was close enough to see beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead as he strived to hold his temper in check.
"Correct me if I'm wrong"—her tone implied that she knew perfectly well that she wasn't—"but didn't you once tell me how much you hated how certain people continued to make decisions for you because they thought they needed to keep you safe? Didn't you tell me that you thought you had the bloody right to make those decisions yourself because it was your own damn life? I think you did. So tell me, Harry. How is what you're doing now different from what was done to you then?"
"Because what you're planning is completely unnecessary," Harry pointed out swiftly.
"That's what you think." She sighed and stepped away from Harry. "I don't want to fight with you. I don't think you want to do that either. But Harry—I need you to understand. You don't have to accept my reasons. You merely have to accept my decision. I'm not a child. I haven't been one for a long time…almost as long as you, I imagine. So don't treat me as one."
"Hermione…I don't…that is…" Exasperated, Harry ran a hand through his hair, looking everything except at her.
She reached out to take his hand in hers. "I know. You have a bit of that hero complex going on still. That's why you became an Auror." She tilted her head and smiled lovingly at him. "Don't worry. This will work out. I know what I'm doing. I think this will help, just you wait and see."
He pulled his hand away from her. "This is a bad idea, Hermione."
"I don't think so. If I'm wrong, you will be the first person I'll floo."
"That would be something to see," Ron piped up. "Hermione admitting that she's wrong."
"It's not funny, Ron." Harry glowered in Ron's direction.
"I know. You're trying to be serious here. But Hermione's right." Ron waved his fork at his friends. "Go on. Sit down. Let's keep things light and enjoy breakfast. That's what you originally wanted to do, right Hermione? Because the two of you fighting over this…damn fool decision is what I think it is…it's not going to help anything."
"You're right, Ron," she said gratefully. She sank down back into her chair and then waited for Harry to do the same.
He fell back into his seat with a heavy sigh. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I thought you'd say that." He glanced over at Ron. "Don't worry. I know what you're going to say too." He looked down at the floor. "No, I'm not going to stop talking to Hermione or anything stupid like that."
"Good," said Ron. "Because even if she doesn't know it, we know this is a mistake. She's going to need both of us once she realizes that." He looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eyes. "So after breakfast, how about you and me talk about what we're going to do when Hermione gets around to making us all meet?"
A wicked grin appeared on Harry's face. "That sounds like the best idea I've heard today," he said.
"Doesn't it though?" Ron asked eagerly. "Few things sound better than breakfast this early in the morning but that does."
"I'm still here, you know, and I can hear every word you say." Hermione narrowed her eyes at her boys.
"We know that," Harry told her.
"That's part of the fun?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Fine. Make your plans. He was a right git to us while we were at Hogwarts, so anything you might do is well deserved. It's not as though anything I say will stop you anyway."
"Got that right," said Ron.
"She's a clever one, our Hermione is," noted Harry. "Though how she'll manage Malfoy, I do not know."
"I've managed you two for many a year," Hermione told him teasingly. "Compared to you, I can't see how Malfoy can be a challenge."
"I hope you're right," Harry said under his breath.
"Oh! One more thing," said Hermione quickly. "I would rather my reasons for marrying Malfoy stay between the three of us. I don't want everyone else to know." That was completely true. It was just as advantageous to her as it was to Malfoy to have the public believe that they were truly in love with one another.
"Wait," said Ron. "You want the whole world to think that you've fallen in love with that git. Because let me tell you, with the scene you put on in front of the Ministry, the current word is that the you are arse over tits in love with the bastard."
Hermione flushed. "That's not a bad thing. Think you two. If everyone knows that we're only marrying to set an example, what sort of example does that set? Not much of one, and people are likely to start speculating that we're getting married for some other reason. Let them think that I'm madly in love with him. That's all right. I've had worse things written about me. If that's what it takes to bring our sides together, then I'm willing to make that sacrifice."
"I hate it when she makes this much sense," Harry stated.
"You're telling me. Not that I think her reason for marrying him in the first place is very good," said Ron.
"Me too. But if you follow her thinking through, then it's very logical for her to want the world to believe that she's genuinely fond of the ferret." Harry sighed. "Blast! Fine Hermione. I still think it's a mistake, but we're your friends, so we'll do as you ask."
"Yes," added Ron. "We won't let anyone know your real reason for marrying Malfoy. I just really hope that everything will work out the way you have planned."
Hermione smiled beatifically at the two of them. "I'll do my best to make certain it will. Now let's talk about something else. Before all this talk of Malfoy puts you off your breakfast."
The wizards were only too eager to comply with that suggestion. Harry and Ron updated Hermione with what had gone on with their last mission. By the time they had finished telling her everything they were allowed to, the two of them were competing for who could yawn the most. She sent them off with a smile, telling them that they deserved to sleep for the rest of the day. An owl arrived for her as they were leaving. Hermione was going to deal with it after she got back from work, but she noticed the handwriting on the envelope was Malfoy's.
A quick scan of the letter's contents told her that Malfoy wanted to meet with her tonight to discuss their 'arrangement', to use his words. She had already planned for this contingency as she had practically goaded Narcissa Malfoy into pushing her son to straighten out a few things with Hermione. She walked into her living room to pen her reply, telling Malfoy they could meet tonight at her flat as she would prefer to meet some place private. She enclosed a portkey she had made for the occasion and sent her reply off. That task done, Hermione hurried off to work.
Hermione double-checked the address that Minerva had given her. It matched that of the house she stood before. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and rang the doorbell.
A petite woman with reddish-blonde hair opened the door. "Hello," she said, smiling nervously. "Can I help you?"
"Ashley Oaks, I presume?" Hermione asked. She continued after the woman nodded her head. "My name is Hermione Granger. I've come here on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your daughter should have received a letter from us—"
"We got that letter," the woman said tersely. "And we wrote back. We don't want anything to with any of you."
"Please, may I come in?" Hermione requested politely. "I get the feeling that we have a lot to talk about."
"We asked to be let alone. So no, you can't come in. Will you please just go away? I never—" Whatever she was going to say stuck in her throat as Hermione leveled a stern frown upon the woman.
"Mrs. Oaks," she began, "you seem like a reasonable sort of person. I doubt you want to cause a scene that will have your neighbors talking for days. And they will talk up a storm, I dare say, if chimney flips over suddenly. Or maybe your windows will become doors and your door will become a window. Perhaps you'll be besieged with birds or something worse. Now, may I come in? Or shall I start causing a scene?"
Trembling, Ashley stepped away from the door and let Hermione in. She led Hermione down a long hallway and into the back room of the house. She nervously watched as Hermione took a seat at the end of the sofa.
"Oh please do sit down," Hermione said genially. "It makes me nervous watching you. I'm not going to do anything to you."
"So long as I do what you say that is," Mrs. Oaks stated. She took the farthest seat away from Hermione.
"You don't mind if I call you by your first name, right?" She continued after the other woman nodded her head. "Thank you. Hogwarts sent a letter to your daughter Ayla because she has a special gift, Ashley. I know it is hard for you to understand but—"
"You think she's magic. I get that," the other woman bit out. "But you also think that's not worthy to keep a staff or a wand or whatever it is that you use. You think that she has dirty blood"—she spat out those two words—"and if we let her go, you'll wind up locking her up. Or worse."
Hermione hadn't quite known what to expect when she had first arrived as no one had ever heard of a Muggle responding to a Hogwarts letter. She had thought maybe the Oaks would have an attitude similar to that of the Dursleys in regards to magic. She didn't think that they would have any inkling about the sort of prejudice Muggle-borns faced in the Wizarding World.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Ashley," Hermione said gently. "I'm a Muggle-born myself. My parents are both dentists. I would never do anything to hurt your daughter or any other student at Hogwarts. I know all the professors there feel the same way."
Ashley clutched a hand to her chest. "So you're like Ayla, is that what you're saying? So you know then that—"
"Yes, I'm Muggle-born like she is. And I've never been locked up or anything worse that you might be imagining," Hermione lied glibly. She reasoned that her words were more true than false; she doubted that any Muggle could imagine something like the Cruciatus Curse.
"You've been called names though, haven't you, because your parents are decent, hard-working people who don't result to doing magic tricks for a living?" Hermione couldn't dispute that. "I am sorry," said Ashley. "I am sorry your parents made you go through all of that. I'm positive they wouldn't have done that to you if they knew what was going to happen. I'm not going to do that to my daughter. I'm not going to let her go to a school that will mock her for something she can't control."
"Instead, you'll condemn her to a life of being a freak who doesn't fit in…who people avoid because bad things happen to those who upset her." Hermione was suddenly livid. She couldn't imagine how her life would have been if her parents hadn't let her go to Hogwarts. She hadn't fit in well at her primary school. Other children first started to tease her because she took her studies seriously. After enough of them felt the ire of her accidental magic, they soon began to leave her alone. That didn't stop them from talking about her, however, and pointing fingers at how much of a freak she was when they thought she didn't notice.
It had been a terribly lonely existence.
At Hogwarts, that had changed. She was still mocked for being a bit of a swot. Ron himself once drove her to tears with one of his comments. But she still fit in better there. She was able to make friends there after they got past her obsessive study habits. Hermione was infuriated that this stupid Muggle would keep her daughter from experiencing how it felt to belong for once in her life.
"Anywhere you go, there will be people who will mock you for your roots. If you're poor, they'll tease you because you're poor. If you're rich, then you're ridiculed for being a snotty, rich bastard who never had to work for a living. That's how people are. If you run away because of them then you let them win."
"How about running away because they'll do their best to kill you if you don't?" the Muggle woman asked. "I've heard about what has happened. How even the government itself is against children like my Ayla. I've heard about how they passed a law saying that children like Ayla—and like you, for heaven's sake—are criminals and should be sent to prison."
"That's not how it is," Hermione insisted. "There were some problems in the past, but they've all been taken care of."
"Have they brainwashed you? How can those problems be taken care of when the people who committed such sins—against you too—still remain free?"
Hermione wanted to point out that many of the very worst offenders, such as Umbridge, had been sent to Azkaban. Not all of them, but that was the price of peace. However, she knew that she wasn't going to get anywhere fast. While Hermione felt sorry for the little girl Ayla, there was a more pressing matter at hand.
It was obvious that someone had revealed the Wizarding World and its history to these Muggles. And whoever that someone was, they had left out all of the good in it and emphasized the bad. That someone clearly wanted to prevent Muggle-borns from being allowed to attend Hogwarts by their parents.
It was an insidious plot.
"I don't know who told you all this, but I assure you, that person is a biased source. If you could tell me his name, I could—"
"No." Ashley shook her head frantically. "I won't do that. Now will you please leave? I've heard your piece, and you haven't changed my mind. So do as I've already asked and get out."
Hermione left. There were other ways to get the information she needed. Nothing would stop her from finding out just which pure-blood bastard was behind this new scheme to rid the Wizarding World of Muggle-borns.
Hermione was in a poor mood when she arrived back at her flat. As Mondays went, it had been bloody awful. Usually seeing Harry and Ron first thing in the morning was a good omen, though she supposed she should have guessed otherwise given what they had wanted to talk about. She had barely got anything done before it was time to go and visit the Muggles for Minerva. Unfortunately she had not found out much. Someone had contacted the Oaks and spoke with them about Hogwarts and the Wizarding World. That someone had put the worst possible light upon the subject, and though Hermione reiterated that the Wizarding World was safe for Muggle-borns, the stupid woman would not listen to her. In the end, Hermione had left so she could consider her options. She didn't think there was any way to change the Muggles' minds without literally messing with their thoughts or memories. In the end, though, the important thing was finding out who was behind the plot, and Hermione was willing to bet that person would soon be returning to the Muggles to make sure that they would still keep their daughter at home.
After that errand was done, Hermione had returned to work in order to catch up with the schedule she had set herself for her latest research project. She had stayed late, knowing that she wasn't to meet Malfoy until seven, and then that was at her own flat. Unfortunately, just as she was beginning to make some progress, she noticed that she was running late. She had barely arrived home when Malfoy appeared in her living room.
"Granger!" he shouted when he saw her. "If you had told me that we were meeting in a hovel, I would have written back telling you that we'll meet someplace else." He took another look around at his surroundings and shuddered. "To get to the point, we will not be living here. I refuse to live in a place that—"
"That's not big enough for your ego to fit in," Hermione finished, crossing her arms as she glared at the ferret. This was the perfect way to end her day. She had to take out her frustrations on someone and who better to be her victim than Malfoy.
She almost felt sorry for him.
He glared back to her. "You think you're funny, don't you? Can't blame you, I suppose. Look at the company you keep." He smirked at her, a warning that he was planning to do something she wouldn't like much.
Hermione let out a hiss when he flopped down onto one end of her sofa, swinging his legs over so he was taking up the entire space. Her temper flared as he kicked the other end several times with his shoes. "Do you see what I mean?" he called out to her. "I barely have enough room to stretch. If you don't care about that, then care about where you are going to sit."
"Didn't your mother teach you any manners? Get your shoes off my sofa!" Hermione ordered.
He only grinned flippantly at her. "Yes, but she also taught me that I need not waste them on the likes of you."
She needed to calm down. If she didn't, she was going to curse him and she didn't want to clean up the mess that would create. Hermione closed her eyes, the better to remember the time Malfoy spent bouncing up and down as a ferret. That was a good memory. Feeling a bit better, she said, "And as to your other point, I never said that we should live here. I only said that we won't be living your parents' house."
"Why not?" he asked. "There's more than enough room. That's more than I can say for here. Afraid that there might be some nasty traps lurking in the dark corners of the Manor specifically aimed against Muggle-borns?"
"You mean to say there's not?" Hermione countered. She pushed her fringe out of her eyes. She briefly considered pushing Malfoy's legs aside so she could sit as well, but thought the better of it. She would rather stand.
"Frankly, I have never bothered to go looking for any of them. They all should have been disabled. Let me know if you find any once you move in," he told her airily.
"That's not going to happen."
"It is, and you have best get used to the idea over the next three months. Speaking of which—"
"Let me guess. Your mother has—"
"Will you quit interrupting me when I'm trying to speak, Granger?" Draco said sharply.
"I'm merely trying to save time. I can guess that your mother sent you over here to impress upon me the fact that a wedding with only fifty guests is plain ridiculous."
"It is!" he said. His cheeks flushed with color. "Were you trying to start an argument? Don't forget the hold I have over you. My mother was very upset about the nonsense you spouted off at her the other day."
"Oh, and we can't have that, now can we?" Hermione leaned forward in her seat. "You know what, Malfoy? I never thought I would say this, but you and Ron are really alike."
His gaze grew cold and steely. "You did not just compare me to the Weasel."
"You invite the comparison. Look at the way the both of you are afraid to anger your mothers." She made a small flourish with her hands as she rolled her eyes at him. "It's pathetic. You're a grown man. Can't you think for yourself?"
"I can't answer for Weasley, but yes, I can and do think for myself." He rose from his seat. "Do you honestly think that you even come close to what my mother would consider an acceptable wife for me?" he snarled as he stalked over towards her. He stopped in front of her when he was only a couple feet away. He looked up and down at her dismissingly. Hermione could feel herself flush under his vulgar stare. She was on the verge of saying something to him when he spoke.
"Fine," he bit out. "I concede. We won't be living at the manor."
"What?" That was not what Hermione thought he would say. She thought he would belabor the point more before she finally got him to give in.
"I said we won't be living with my parents. Don't get too excited. We won't be living here either," he sniffed haughtily. "I'll be choosing the place for us though. Given your aptitude for picking a flat, there is no way I would leave that chore to you."
Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She supposed she should just be happy that she got her way.
"The wedding, however, will not be as tiny as you have proposed. My mother couldn't whittle our guest list down to even twice that if she had a year to plan."
"The lack of time fuels the size of the wedding," Hermione pointed out.
"Is that all? Are you sure the lack isn't something else?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "It is amazing what sort of doors money can open." He threw something at her. Caught off guard, Hermione lunged for it and missed. It fell to her feet. Malfoy stood there waiting with an amused smirk as she bent down to pick it up. It was a key.
"That will give you access to one of my smaller vaults," he said lazily and waited. Hermione said nothing in response, not one to become needlessly incensed over what Malfoy was implying. After about a minute of silence, he went on. "I trust you'll find it easier to plan the grand affair that our wedding will be with suitable funds. It will be an event to remember, Granger, one way or another. I prefer it not to be remembered as evidence that my family and I are ashamed of you." Hermione bit her tongue, holding back the barb she so longed to throw at him. "My mother stands willing to help you should you need help coordinating the event."
"That will not be necessary," she replied icily. "All I require from her is the approximate number of guests she plans to invite." Hermione saw no reason to continue arguing over the size of the wedding. Since Malfoy was offering to pay for everything, that took care of the brunt of her real objections. Given the dismal galleon to pound exchange rate, Hermione didn't want to ask her parents to help her pay for a wedding just to satisfy Malfoy's taste. However, if he was providing the funds, then she would make it into the event of the year. Besides she had got what she really wanted with his earlier concession that they would not be living at the manor. Giving in now would let him continue to believe that he was in charge without her being too inconvenienced. That would suit her purposes nicely for now.
"If you say so," he said. "Now to move on to other matters. We need to start doing things together. The public will never believe that ours is a love match if we're never seen together, and it suits my purposes that they think that. I make it a point to attend every home game for my Quidditch team, and you will start accompanying to those matches."
Hermione nodded. She knew that was coming. It was about time he figured out that they had to coordinate their stories and start arranging to be seen together in public. She was getting a bit tired of answering all of the owls she received from her friends with trite replies. She was looking forward to being able to answer their questions secure in the knowledge that Malfoy wouldn't be saying anything to contradict her.
He knew something was wrong when his wife greeted him at the door.
"What happened, Ashley?" Sydney Oaks asked his wife.
"There was a visitor today. One of them."
"I see." He regarded his wife. "Did he hurt you? Because if he did, I swear I'll—"
She rushed into his arms. "No, she didn't hurt me. She was scary, but she didn't hurt me one bit. Please, Sydney, we need help. There must be something that can be done so we can hide from them. I don't want to go through that again."
He stroked her back, trying to calm her down. "Okay, Ashley. I'll ask. I'll send an e-mail to him tonight asking that he come back over."
"As soon as possible. Because I know one of them come back again, and I'm afraid next time they just might take our Ayla away."
Author's note: Thanks for reading. I would appreciate it if you could also leave me review about what you thought about it. I'll be updating again next week.
And my thanks go out to medusaasaphoenix, Akira M, allycat1186, Wudelfin, Stylenwild, shat, misssweetsweet, RememberMe2, brick-red-wall, and kazfeist for their reviews.