Disclaimer:The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
And over there's where I bled all over the carpet. Ah...good times.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The laughter and the boy's teasing had done wonders for Hermione's mood. As they finished breakfast, she realized how precious these moments were.
"Merlin, I'm going to miss this." She got up from the table to take her dish to the sink.
"Me too, Mione." Ron came up behind her, put an arm around her waist and his chin on her shoulder.
Harry came over too and hugged her from the other side.
"Everything's going to be different now," she said, clinging to her two best friends.
Harry squeezed her tighter. "Yeah. You'll have to turn Malfoy into a ferret when you're feeling down."
She laughed, but quickly sobered. "We'll always be friends, though. Right?"
"Always, Mione."
"Always."
The moment passed when Hermione realized how late it was getting. Rodolphus offered to do the dishes and it was agreed Ron would owl them later to arrange a time to meet. She rushed off to take her shower and dress in her best day robes. Arthur's owl had instructed her that she'd have to collect Professor Snape from St. Mungo's before the meeting at Malfoy Manor and to "expect resistance." She would have to meet Harry and Rodolphus there.
St. Mungo's, like the Ministry, was virtually deserted. Eight months ago, every bed had been filled with the victims of the curse. There had been beds in the halls, in the waiting areas, in offices and the cafeteria. Now the halls were empty and entire floors were shut down. Almost all of the long-term residents had been taken by the illness. In fact Professor Snape was the only one left.
The healers said he had survived his injuries and the plague that followed by sheer stubborn will, the strength of his magic, and a few rare potions that the Potions Master had self-administered before falling into a healing coma.
But his recovery had been difficult, the healer told Hermione when she arrived to get her future husband released. The snake venom had left his body weak and slow to heal. Finally he was on the mend, but he tired easily and the healers kept him in the ward because it was likely he would overdo if he was on his own.
She was given a laundry list of instructions, half a dozen potions, and dire warnings as to the risks of letting him do too much.
After meeting with the staff, she went to his room, stomach churning with nerves. She knocked and opened the door tentatively when he called.
He was sitting in an armchair near the window, watching her enter.
"Ah, Miss Granger. I was wondering when I'd see you." Despite the injury to his neck, his voice was still low and silky smooth and it still made a strange warmth pool in her belly. He was in a black dressing robe over black pajamas, a throw lying across his legs.
"Hello, Professor." She hesitated just inside the door unused to seeing the man in anything but his formal teaching robes.
"I told Arthur I have no intention of going through with this farce of a marriage. They can put me in Azkaban."
She laughed at that. It was actually a relief that his personality was as surly as ever. But it was hard to feel intimidated by the man after she'd seen him on the verge of death. "I see we're going to skip the niceties and get straight to it."
He folded his hands over his lap. "I've no patience for 'the niceties' as you put it."
"No, I don't suppose you do." She smiled in response to his scowl, determined not to let his attitude cow her. "Well, in that case I'll get to the point. You should know that if you don't marry me, you'll still have to get me pregnant twice. They'll just keep you here until it's done and then put you in Azkaban."
She could tell her words made an impact, but he made a show of looking around the room. "I don't mind it here so much."
"That's ridiculous." Ignoring his affronted expression, she continued, "Either way, the Ministry will force the issue and your resistance will accomplish nothing in the end. Is it me specifically you object to, or is it the situation?"
"Both," he bit out. "You were my student, you're half my age, and you've been a pain in my arse for seven years. But I will confess that I'd not willingly marry any witch."
"Why is that?" she asked, moving across the room to look out his window at traffic on the street below.
"It is personal." His clipped tone closed the subject before it even opened.
"I would argue that what we're going to do is personal too, but I doubt it would sway you. So instead I'll answer the other objections you've already given me."
She turned around, leaning against the windowsill, facing him. "I am no longer your student. You are no longer a professor as there is no longer a school. There's no impropriety. You are older than me, but I am an adult, mature for my age" – he snorted at this – "and relieved that none of my husbands have had a centennial. I will have four husbands older than you. Arthur is ten years your senior, has probably considered me something of a daughter and is still in love with Molly. If he and I can manage this, then there's no reason you and I cannot."
She cocked her head to the side and smiled before adding, "As for being a pain in your arse, I doubt that will change."
He snorted again, but this time his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile. "You realize that isn't the best sales pitch."
She shrugged. "I believe in truth in advertising."
He smirked at that, but he quickly grew serious again. "You're certain there's no escaping the Ministry on this?"
She shook her head. "I read the original legislation, not just what the Prophet published. I looked for the loopholes. If there were any, I'd be long gone…no offence."
"None taken."
"Since we're stuck, there's no sense in giving up all your freedom." She walked to him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he didn't shrug her off.
He did look out the window for a very long time, pensive. His voice was soft when he finally spoke. "I can never love you."
That hit like a bludger to her pride. For some inexplicable reason she wanted to cry, and her reaction surprised her, but she managed to remain calm and dry eyed. "I did not ask you to."
"I think it's only fair for you to know that up front."
She swallowed thickly. "I appreciate the warning, but I don't think it will be a problem. While I will admit to an admiration of your intellect and bravery, I've not been harboring tender affections for you all these years." Unless he counted the brief crush she had on the man after he protected them from a werewolf back in third year. A fact she certainly wasn't going to mention.
He nodded, still looking into the distance. "Good."
"Well in that case, we'd best get you up and dressed or we'll miss all the fun."
He refused her assistance, asking her to leave the room while he dressed on his own, but she insisted he sit while she packed his belongings.
From his chair, he barked orders like a reigning monarch and she bustled about collecting clothes, books and other personal items.
The healers wanted him to limit his magic usage, so she shrank the bags for him when they were ready. He pocketed them and then reluctantly took a seat in the wheeled chair one of the attendants had brought. Floo travel was also disallowed, so she pushed him to the apparition point and apparated him side-along to the gates of Malfoy Manor.
It was just past eleven when they arrived, so they weren't too late, but it did mean that all of her future husbands would be waiting for her. She offered her arm to him for the long walk up the drive and was surprised when he actually accepted her help. It was an indication of just how easily his strength was taxed.
At the door they were met by a solemn house-elf dressed in a crisp, white pillowcase, and motioned toward the drawing room.
Hermione meant to move her feet in the direction of the room, but found she couldn't.
In a low, mocking voice, Severus said, "You're trembling, Miss Granger. Surely your legendary Gryffindor bravery isn't deserting you now."
She was trembling – partly in fear and partly in fury. "That bastard is hosting this meeting in his drawing room."
"Yes," he said impatiently, starting to walk, forcing her to come along.
She allowed herself to be pulled along for a few steps before she dug in her heels. "The same drawing room where Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me nearly to death a year ago."
He stopped walking and turned. She could feel him scrutinizing her, but she was too busy trying to keep her legs from collapsing to look up at him. Finally he said, "Lucius is trying to establish his dominance. He wants you upset and off-balance. Do not allow him that victory. It's crucial you don't show fear or he won't ever stop testing you."
He paused, gently grasping her chin and tilting her head back so her eyes met his.
"Do you understand me, Miss Granger?"
She understood him, but was having a hard time forming a response.
Oh no. Not now.
"Miss Granger? Hermione?"
Shortly after the final battle, she'd had her first attack after a confrontation with an arse at the Ministry. It had only happened two more times since, usually during or after moments of stress. Her breaths were coming rapidly and she couldn't even manage to nod her head. She certainly couldn't do anything when he leaned down and kissed her. It was swift and hard, but it was effective in bringing her back to the present.
She blinked as he pulled away. "I'm sorry for taking liberties, but it was that or a slap and we need to seal our betrothal—"
"With a kiss," she interrupted him, suddenly feeling much better. "Yes, I'm familiar with the ritual by now. And thank you. I was halfway to a panic attack. As if this isn't stressful enough."
"You will be fine," he said with as much certainty as if conveying a scientific truth to a class of first-years. "Lucius is playing power games because he is quite insecure. His reputation is in tatters, he barely managed to stay out of prison and his influence in the current Ministry is non-existent. Believe me when I say you have more power here than he does."
The dark eyes of the imposing Potions Master were sincere and, against all expectation, his words comforted her.
"Now normally in these situations, it is polite to greet your host first, but I think in this case, it would be best if you go to Arthur. It will help establish him as the head of the household even if we aren't in his home. And it will irritate Lucius."
She nodded, gave the dark haired wizard a shaky smile, and he switched their grip so that he was no longer leaning on her for support, but was now escorting her.
The other nine men were seated about the room, talking in small groups, or sitting silent. All eyes turned to them when they entered.
"I apologize for keeping you all waiting. St. Mungo's wasn't keen to let me go." Severus said, with a quirk of his lips and a talent for fabrication that he'd honed during almost two decades of spying.
Arthur and Malfoy both stood as did Harry and a few others, but when she took a step toward Arthur, he walked forward to greet them. He shook Severus' hand and Severus passed her over.
Arthur kissed the back of her hand and then her cheek. "Hello, Hermione. I trust all is well since I saw you last."
"Yes, Arthur. Thank you for arranging everything."
"My pleasure. I suppose you should greet the others.
She grasped his arm like she'd been clinging to Severus. "You won't leave me?" she asked in a low voice.
He bent down to murmur in her ear. "Don't worry, dear. I'll let no harm come to you."
Smiling up at him, she let him lead her around the room, starting with the Malfoys who were closest.
"Miss Granger, such a pleasure to see you again," Lucius said. His long blond hair was caught neatly at the back of his neck. His robes were the finest emerald green silk.
She smiled coldly and offered her hand. As he pressed a kiss to the back of it, she said, "Mr. Malfoy. It is kind of you to host this gathering in your home. I'm pleased to see you were able to salvage the chandelier. It's such a lovely old piece. It would have been a shame if it had been destroyed."
Lucius cleared his throat, looking toward the light fixture which had caused the diversion that allowed her and her friends to escape last year. "Ah, yes, the elves were able to restore most of it. Unfortunately some of the crystals are no longer original."
She followed his gaze to the extravagant light fixture. "That is a shame, but it doesn't detract from its beauty, if it's any consolation."
His gaze switched to her, eyes narrowing as he examined her. After a moment, he tilted his head ever so slightly toward her and said, "That is a consolation indeed. I'm glad to welcome you in my home under more pleasant circumstances."
"Thank you." Hermione felt like she'd managed to score a point and come out ahead in this skirmish. But she didn't kid herself that she'd won the war.
"I believe you know my son, Draco."
"Of course." She offered her hand to the tall blond and he bent over it though he didn't kiss it as her father had. "I hope you've been well, Draco." She had always called him by his surname in school, but she deliberately used his first name now. If he noticed, he didn't make a point of it.
"I've been as well as can be expected under the circumstances." An ambiguous answer and possibly a veiled insult.
"I know what you mean," she responded with a small smile, though she wasn't entirely sure she did. She then pulled her hand back and moved on.
Kingsley was next and he took her hand flipping it over to kiss the inside of her wrist. "Minister," she said, wondering if he could feel the way his lips made her pulse race.
"Little one," he murmured against her skin.
"I'm mad at you, Kings." She snatched her hand back.
"What did I do now, witch?" he asked with a wide smile.
"It has something to do with personal freedom and binding magic. I've decided not to loan you that book. You'll probably use it for ideas." She noticed Lucius watching her interaction with the Minister with interest and she decided to drop it. "I'll berate you later, in private."
"See, you're already getting the hang of being a politician's wife."
She just smiled and shook her head.
Goyle was next, sitting off by himself. It had been almost two years since she'd seen him for more than a moment in the heat of battle. The boy who had at one time been thick and thuggish had shot up in height. He was still big and muscular. His face had become leaner, showing a strong jaw. In all honesty, he was hot, in a broody kind of way.
She offered her hand with a soft, "Hello."
He didn't quite look at her and he didn't speak, but his slightly moist hand briefly squeezed hers before he released it.
The entire time, Arthur stayed with her, his hand resting on the small of her back in an almost proprietary gesture.
Rodolphus was next and he took her hand and kissed the back gallantly.
"I hope you and Harry had no difficulty getting here, Mr. Lestrange."
"No. Thank you, Miss Granger. I am not fond of side-along apparition, but I suppose I'll have to adapt."
"Perhaps I can introduce you to other forms of Muggle transportation. You seemed to take to the Tube easily enough."
"I look forward to it." He winked at her before Arthur led her away.
"That was unexpected," the redhead commented under his breath.
"We're going to try being nice to each other. So far it's been rather easy."
Arthur nodded, but was pensive.
He led her across the room to Cormac. Ugh.
It wasn't that Cormac was unattractive. Quite the opposite, he was rather handsome with wavy blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. The problem was he knew he was attractive and that was so very unattractive.
"Hermione," he said, bending down to kiss her. She turned her head to the side so that he ended up kissing her cheek.
"Hello, Cormac. Have you been well?"
"Yes, quite. I've been promoted at the Ministry." He reminded her strongly of Percy, but with a more predatory quality. His eyes were focused on her neckline as he spoke. "It seemed like fate when we were matched."
Yes. A fate worse than death.
Okay, maybe that was overstating things a bit.
She gave him a weak smile and moved on to Neville.
Neville, she hugged. "How are you holding up?" she murmured in his ear.
He shrugged. "How about you?" he asked as she pulled away.
"About the same."
She turned to Harry and was again swallowed in a hug.
"I could kill Lucius Malfoy," he said and she knew he was referring to the use of this room and its reminders of the past.
"I know. But it's okay. He can't hurt me, remember?"
"That's right, love." He set her back on her feet.
"Give me strength?"
"All I have is yours."
Next up: Awkward conversations, decisions by committee and Hermione spends a little time with Draco.
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