Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
A/N: Sorry, no Hermione yet, but fear not! She's making her grand entrance next chapter!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/alerted this story! You are the best!
My Father's Bride
Chapter 3
Sunday 19h, October 2008 (later that night)
Draco barged into Blaise's apartment as if Hell hounds were at his heels; his dark skinned friend simply raised a questioning eyebrow as he shut the door behind the fuming blond, and followed his annoyed friend into the occupied living room.
Usually impeccably dressed – Draco always put a lot of stock in appearances, – tonight the blond wizard seemed frazzled; physically and mentally.
His blond hair was tousled as if he ran his hands through the locks multiple times tonight, his pale cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were sparkling with an unidentifiable emotion, and his lips were twitching like Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or start screaming profanities.
"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine," Blaise commented, dryly.
"Fuck off, Zabini." Draco growled, and marched to the only empty chair in the living room without greeting Blaise's other guests. Seconds after he sat down, an elderly house elf materialised beside the brooding blond, bowing deeply in respect.
"Master Malfoy."
Draco had his own penthouse in London for whenever he visited, not to mention a dozen other estates the Malfoy family owned in the city, but he preferred to stay in Blaise's penthouse in Hyde Park. After a couple of years, Blaise's faithful house elf, Muffin, took to calling Malfoy 'Master' and Blaise never bothered to correct her misconception.
"Hello, Muffin," Draco politely greeted the tiny creature – Muffin had a special spot in his heart ever since he was a young boy. As Blaise's nanny, it had been Muffin's job to supervise the two young boys when they visited each other's houses, and more than once the elf had to heal scraps and scratches from bleeding knees, and elbows.
"Would Master Malfoy need anything?"
"Firewhiskey, please."
With another bow, Muffin disappeared, only to reappear seconds later holding a silver tray with a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid.
"Thank you, Muffin," Draco murmured, absent-mindedly grasping the tumbler, and taking a big gulp – his face scrunched up at the strong taste of the whiskey. It burnt his throat as he swallowed, and it soothed his nerves.
"Better?" Blaise asked, nonchalantly.
"No," he answered, finally acknowledging the rest of the guests with a nod.
As was expected, Theodore was already there; for the last few months Theo had been exceptionally busy, working tirelessly to cultivate and establish new connections for their new firm, and the three friends hadn't had the time to properly hang out in almost a year.
But he wasn't the only familiar face there tonight, and Draco was pleasantly surprised to see so many of his old friends.
Daphne Greengrass, their newest associate, was as beautiful as always, with her raven hair twisted into an elegant chignon, her full lips painted a deep red, and dressed in a modest black and white knee length dress that fit her snugly. When they were younger, he had tried to seduce the stunning witch into his bed multiple times, but the raven haired beauty never succumbed to his charms.
Despite what everyone else thought about Slytherins, they were loyal to each other, and Daphne would never sleep with Draco, when she knew how Pansy felt about him.
Next to Daph – a nickname only he was allowed to use – sat Gregory Goyle; after Hogwarts, Greg spent a few years abroad, Vincent's death weighing heavily on his mind. But when he'd finally returned, he'd been a changed man. Gone was the emotionally stunted brute; in his place was a miserable young man, grieving for his best friend and the life he had lost.
It took him years to heal, but now Greg was enjoying his life; towering over Daphne, broad shouldered and muscular, he wore his hair cropped short, and was always dressed immaculately in tailored suits. As an executive of Malfoy Inc. – Draco remembered his father mentioning he'd hired Goyle in a letter, – Gregory knew appearances mattered very much in the business world.
On Greg's other side sat none other than Pansy Parkinson; her smile was tight when he tilted his head in acknowledgement, and he noted her nose was smaller than the last time he had seen her. Vaguely, he recalled Theo mentioning that Pansy had a nose job some years ago, but since his ex-girlfriend held little importance in his life, Draco had shoved that information to the back of his mind.
But seeing her, he had to admit it was a right move.
Her face no longer dominated by her nose, you could easily appreciate her deep green eyes, accentuating by dark eye liner and her wavy hairstyle. Pansy would never be described as beautiful, but she was attractive in a cold, detached manner.
From what he had heard through the grape vine – read: Theo – life had not been kind to her. Although her family had never been directly involved with Voldemort, everyone in the wizarding community knew Cassius Parkinson had financially assisted the Dark Lord in his second rise.
Without any real evidence to prove malicious intent, Cassius' lawyers had been able to get the charges dropped on the base that he feared for his and his family's lives; since then, the head of the Parkinson family had done his best to remain in the Ministry's good books.
Pansy was a whole different matter; her willingness to deliver Harry Potter to the Dark Lord during the Final Battle marked her as persona non grata, despite the fact she'd been a frightened teenager at the time.
Many of her father's business' investors dropped out, unwilling to associate with a family with such reputation, and the rest of the world viewed them with distaste. Within weeks, the respect they had enjoyed all their lives thanks to their blood status was replaced with disdain and suspicion.
Nearly bankrupt, Cassius had tried to twist the public's perception, going out of his way to prove they didn't share Voldemort's views by donating thousands of galleons to charities, and publicly expressing his support for Shacklebolt and Harry Potter.
And for a time, it was working, but Pansy's bitterness destroyed all the progress her father had made; choosing to ignore her part in her family's financial and social ruin, Pansy openly blamed Harry Potter for her misfortune, and condemned the Ministry for what she called 'Mudblood loving policy'.
The fact Muggle-borns and half-bloods, people she had always seen as beneath her, were treated as equals to pure-bloods enraged her, and she used every chance she got to express her displeasure at the new social order, uncaring of who heard her spewing her vitriolic bigotry.
For months her father had put up with her, supporting her financially when no one would employ her, and trying to get her to start behaving rationally, but things came to a head nearly three years after the Final Battle.
Pansy and Daphne were shopping in the Diagon Alley when Hermione Granger happened to walk by; seeing the adoring fans following the Muggle-born around, and the expressions of awe of bystanders' faces, she snapped and lashed out at Granger.
Unfortunately for her, she had not noticed that Hermione was not alone; Parvati Patil, Witch Weekly's newest gossip columnist, and Granger's friend was with her. The next day, their altercation had been plastered in papers all over England, Pansy's bitter, hatred filled rant quoted verbatim.
That was the last straw for Cassius; he kicked his daughter out of the family Manor, cut off her monthly stipend, and told her in no uncertain terms that she was not allowed back in the family, until she proved capable of holding her tongue. Which was impossible since Pansy refused to accept she was wrong, and blamed everyone else for her mistakes.
The thought that Granger, a filthy Mud-blood, was one of the Ministry's most prominent and powerful executives, while she, a pure-blood of impeccable bloodline, had been reduced to working as a sales lady in Twilfitt and Tatting's, and living in a tiny, one bedroom flat in Diagon Alley filled her with hatred.
Draco felt a twinge of sympathy for his former girlfriend, but he knew Pansy was at fault for how her life had ended up; ten years after the war had ended, and she still wouldn't accept responsibility for her actions or try to change.
Seeing her now, Draco once again thanked his past self for making the decision to leave England. If he had stayed, he'd have probably ended up with the bitter woman in that couch, and be as miserable as her.
Taking his eyes off of her, less she get any ideas, Draco turned to the last person in the room; he had to do a double take, but in the end, he had to trust she was who his eyes were telling him she was.
Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's younger sister, had been two years below them in Hogwarts, and used to follow them around in the castle, her aqua blue eyes large with wonder and her cheeks flushing whenever Draco had looked down at her.
The last time he had seen the younger Greengrass, she had been an awkward, clumsy teenager who stuttered and blushed whenever he spoke to her; the woman sitting before him was nothing like her past self.
As tall as her sister, Astoria had lush gold hair that framed her pale face, and tumbled down her back like a golden waterfall; her eyes sparkled under the light, and her lips, painted coral pink, smiled demurely at him when they locked eyes.
Her model thin body was wrapped in a knee length, dark green wrap dress with three quarter length sleeves, her legs encased in sheer stockings, and she wore black pumps that made her legs look longer. She was the embodiment of the perfect pure-blood wife; gorgeous, demure, and coy.
Draco couldn't say he was displeased with the new addition to their social circle, although he tended to avoid associating with Astoria's type. She practically screamed 'wife material' and Draco was neither inclined, nor willing to settle down for a few years yet.
Returning her smile, he cut his eyes to Blaise's inquisitive stare, but it was Theo who voiced the unspoken question.
"What's wrong, mate?" he asked, watching him bemusedly. Being Draco's friends since childhood, Blaise and Theo were the only ones familiar with the nature of his relationship with his father. He didn't pretend with them, and he didn't try to hide the fact he and his father didn't quite see eye to eye in most cases.
It had taken years for Draco to finally be able to talk to his father without letting his bitterness influence his behaviour, but he could now look at him in the face, and make an honest attempt at forgiving him.
Blaise and Theo believed that if Lucius didn't deliberately sabotage their relationship, the Malfoy men would reconcile soon; and it'd be the first step for Draco to finally start forgiving himself for his own past mistakes.
"Is something the matter?" The soft voice made him look up, and he found Astoria's bright eyes on him, wide and concerned. Draco felt a twinge of uneasiness; if the way she was staring at him wasn't telling enough, the way her hand immediately went to her hair when his attention shifted to her, her nimble fingers playing with the silken locks, would have been more than enough to convey her interest. Pursuing something with Astoria could possible sour his friendship with Daphne, and in turn it might affect their business relationship. And as alluring as Astoria was, Daphne was far too important to their firm to risk losing her.
As a serious relationship was not on his cards for the foreseeable future, he'd have to let Astoria down carefully, and focus on his current problems.
Averting his eyes, he turned his attention on his two friends.
"Did you know Lucius started dating?" he asked them, a sneer marrying his features at the word 'dating'.
Their reactions were simultaneous, and instantaneous; Blaise chocked on the wine he was drinking, spewing ruby red liquid down his snow white, silk shirt, and Theo's eyes widened, his mouth dropping open unattractively.
"No!"
"Seriously?" Blaise asked, wiping his mess with a handkerchief.
"Yes," he grouched, scrunching his brows together. "He told me so earlier tonight."
"You didn't... curse him, did you?" Theo asked, his tone alarmed.
"What do you take me for?"
"An impulsive, hot-headed individual with severe daddy-issues," Blaise casually answered, reclining on his comfortable arm chair, and smirking at his friend.
"I did not curse my father." He sneered at him, resisting the urge to curse Blaise. "If he thinks it's okay to disrespect my mother's memory –"
"Your mother passed away years ago, Draco," Daphne murmured, staring reproachfully at him. "Don't you think he deserves the chance to find happiness again? With another woman?"
"Whose side are you on?"
"No one's," she answered. "Lucius has mourned Narcissa ever since her passing. By dating another woman, he isn't disrespecting her. On the contrary, he's honouring her last wish. And if he happens to love someone else, that doesn't mean he stopped loving your mother. People are capable of loving more than one person in their lives, you know that right?"
"Logic's," she answered, eyes flicking to her sister. "Your father mourned Narcissa for years. By dating, he doesn't disrespect her. If he falls for someone else, doesn't mean he'll forget her. People can love more than one person in their life, you know that right?"
Draco glared at her, his lips pressed in a hard line.
"Narcissa will always be your father's wife, Draco," Theo softly said. "No one will take her place, and I don't think Lucius is trying to replace her. But you have to accept that Lucius can't mourn her in solitude forever."
"Don't use this as an excuse to stay mad at him either," Blaise warned him, knowingly. "You are both grown men, and you must deal with the fact his life choices don't concern you."
Draco's grey eyes flashed silver.
"Do you who his girlfriend is?" he asked, demanded really, inwardly cringing when he realised his father had a girlfriend. Merlin, could this day get any worst?
"Hermione Granger."
It took a full minute for him to realise Daphne was the one to answer him, and another for the rest of the occupants of the room to grasp the meaning of her words. When it did dawned on them, various exclamations of surprise filled the room.
Draco's expression was thunderous when he turned to her.
"I was working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before Blaise recruited me, remember?" she started explaining, arching an eyebrow at his intimidation tactics. "I was Granger's assistant for the last couple of years, and after Malfoy Inc. sighed that contract with the Ministry, Lucius visited every couple of weeks. Seeing as Hermione is heading the project assigned to your father's company, she had regular meetings with him, and often visited him in his office. I saw them going out for lunch a couple of times, and I knew Hermione was not seeing anyone, so I put two and two together when rumours about Lucius dating started spreading."
"How in Salazar's grave did they manage to keep this a secret?" Blaise exclaimed. "This is huge!"
"Please," Pansy scoffed, mouth twisting in disgust. "Everyone knows that bitch has Skeeter wrapped around her little finger, and Patil is too busy kissing their arses to actually do her job. I'm honestly surprised everyone still thinks Granger is that pure, innocent princess when in reality she's just a manipulative, fucking Mudb–"
"That's enough, Pansy," Blaise cut her off, eyeing her with thinly veiled hostility. "I know things haven't been easy on you, but Granger has done you no wrong."
"No wrong?" she screeched, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her flesh as she clenched her hands. "She destroyed my reputation –"
"No, sweetheart, you did that all by yourself," Theo interrupted her with the air of someone who had heard that diatribe before. "Neither Granger, nor Potter has ever said a word against you or your family –"
"My father lost millions of galleons because of them! Because of Granger, my father disowned me! They might not have said anything against me, but they sure didn't defended me when the press tore into me!"
"And why would they?" Draco asked, honestly wanting to know why Pansy thought the Golden Trio owed her anything. His former flame was bordering on delusional, and Draco feared that the downward spiral her life had taken after Hogwarts might have affected her psych.
"What?"
"I asked why would Potter, Granger or Weasley for that matter come to your defence?" he repeated, further elaborating. "It is my understanding that you verbally attacked them on numerous occasions without provocation on their part. You make no effort to hide your thoughts on blood purity, and the new political climate in the country. And I seem to recall that Potter did speak on your behalf. He said he forgave you for trying to hand him over to Voldemort during the Hogwarts' siege, blaming your actions on fear. It seems to me, Pansy, that the only one you should blame for how your life turned out, is you. You should have known that attacking any member of Golden Trio, in public nevertheless, equals social suicide, Pans. And really, it is not their job to come to your rescue, when all you've been doing is blaming them for your mistakes."
"I'm the heiress to the Parkinson family!" she shouted, chin lifting. "My bloodline goes back to the middle ages, and it runs pure! I will not bow down to the likes of Potter and his Mudblood! For Merlin's sake, she managed to sink her claws on Lucius! What would the people say?"
"That Mudblood holds more power to her pinky finger than your whole family put together," Theo snapped, finally losing his patience. "She's politically influential, magically gifted, and manipulative. She's famous for her kindness and intelligence and people look up to her as much as Potter. She's a decorated War Hero, and Lucius is a renown Death Eater. Trust me when I say, when their relationship goes public, it won't be Lucius's reputation that will suffer.
"Like it or not, Pansy, blood no longer matters. If all you have to offer is your blood status, then I'm sorry to say you are worthless."
"How dare you –"
"For Merlin's sake, sit down and shut up, Parkinson!" Blaise hissed, smashing his tumbler on the small table besides his arm chair. The glass cracked in the middle. "I have had enough enough of your bullshit; for years all you do is whine, and bemoan your bad fortune instead of doing something to change it. You refuse to accept responsibility for your mistakes, and constantly expect others to respect you based on your last name. Guess what, sweetheart? Things have changed, and it is about time you start realising it. You are a grown woman, start acting like it! Voldemort is dead, things will never go back to the way they used to be, so you either get along with the times, or you stay a loser until the day you die. Your choice."
The twist their conversation had taken brought back many unpleasant memories for Draco; Blaise's reiteration that blood no longer mattered was not, strictly speaking, one hundred per cent true.
Although most of Voldemort's supporters were either dead, or incarcerated, there were still some families who still lived by the old doctrine, and fruitlessly waited for a new Dark Lord to rise and restore them to their former glory. They were simply more careful and kept their true opinions to themselves.
According to his Ministry informants – what sort of a lawyer would he be, if he had not an inside man in the Ministry? Or in his case, several inside men and women, – there were still a few groups who supported Voldemort attacking Muggles, Muggle-borns and pure-bloods who had openly supported the Order, but the attacks were sparse and disorganised.
Thankfully, the Ministry had done a great job keeping the attacks under wraps; the peace they had strived for, was still fragile.
"Granger's heritage is not why I'm opposed her dating my father," he murmured, meaning it. Frowning, he forged on, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Pansy's face was sullen. "No, her blood status means nothing to me. What bugs me is her connection to my past. I mean, they are thousands of witches in London! Why did my father had to start dating the one witch I was forced to watch being tortured in my fucking parlour? Isn't there some kind of rule that says you are not allowed to date someone you tried kill? Repeatedly?"
"Hey, if she's okay with it, why should Lucius let it bother him?" Theo shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. "If Granger had asked me out, I wouldn't have thought twice about saying yes."
Draco's pale eyebrows disappeared under his fringe.
"Seriously?" He couldn't help but sound incredulous. "Granger? You do remember how she looked, right?"
"You are a pig, Draco," Daphne announced, glaring at him under her lashes. "I thought you had mature, but I guess I was mistaken."
"Oh, get off your high horse, Daph. You were the one who called her a buck-toothed beaver once," Blaise reminded her with a laugh.
"I was a kid," Daphne sneered, crossing her arms across her chest, "I am not calling people names or judge them by their looks these days, as you might have noticed."
"What Daphne is probably trying to say, Draco," Theo interrupted, his smile turning smug, "is that Granger is not the same person you remember. Just wait and see, mate. And then you'll tell me if you'd date her or not. Just wait."