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Chapter Nine
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The hours following the meeting in the headmaster's quarters flew by unutterably fast. Decisions had to be made, plans plotted out, alternative scenarios set in place, and it left all participants figuratively gasping for breath.

"Now, since we are relying so heavily on the traditional laws, we must follow all of the traditions," the headmaster said firmly. "If we do not, we could leave ourselves vulnerable to Lucius."

Hermione groaned, and Draco had to admit that he wanted to as well. What was the old codger on about now? He quickly reviewed everything they'd covered and eventually managed to find the one thing they had not discussed. He gaped. Surely the headmaster didn't think his father would fork over a dowry for a bride he would never approve of, not even if all nine planes of hell froze over at once.

"What could possibly be left?" Hermione asked, her voice beyond exasperated.

Draco almost laughed. It was reassuring to know he wasn't the only one capable of descending into whining.

"The dowry," Dumbledore replied. "It must be paid in order to comply with the very tradition we are invoking to protect all of you."

The urge to laugh grew almost too much to fight, when Granger turned to the headmaster, her expression saying that the headmaster was incurably senile -- as clearly as if she'd said it out loud. "And just how on earth are we going to get Mr. Malfoy to pay a bloody dowry?" she asked in blatant disbelief.

Professor Snape smirked. "We won't be."

"We won't?" Draco asked, knowing he looked as confused as Granger did.

"No," he replied, his smirk deepening. "A dowry is paid to the bride's family."

Draco rolled his eyes. That bloody well went without saying. "And again, I ask--" He cut himself off, glaring at his head of house. No way! "I am not a bride!"

"How much?" Granger asked bluntly, cutting off any response to Draco's outburst.

"Well," Snape drawled snidely, "regardless of what Mr. Malfoy's father would, or would not, do in regard to this marriage, you will technically be depriving the Malfoy family of its sole heir."

Granger nodded impatiently. "Which means how much, exactly, after being translated into cold hard cash. What's a life worth these days."

Snape scowled, looking like he wished to leave Gryffindor in negative points for the next decade and Granger in detention until she graduated. "It means a higher than normal dowry. I would say on the order of 25,000 galleons."

Draco gaped . . . again. It was getting to be a bad habit; one he was determined to break immediately. That was triple the going dowry rate. Despite himself, and his determination to be outraged at the position he was in, he felt a bit of misplaced pride that Snape thought he was worth that much. Especially considering he would pretty much be bringing jack-all to the marriage -- at least in terms of money or property. He had enough galleons left from his personal vault to obtain his school supplies, and a modest -- for him -- allowance for the next year.

"Of course, we will assist with the dowry, Miss Granger."

"We will?" Snape asked flatly

"There is no need for that," Hermione demurred before the headmaster could comment and suddenly she was once again at the center of attention.

Professor Snape mumbled something along the lines of 'spoiled Gryffindor brats' under his breath before speaking up in a near snarl. "You are so sure your parents will spend such a large sum of money, Miss Granger?"

"No. I'm not even going to ask them to."

Draco's attention was immediately riveted on the Griff. If he was understanding her correctly. . . .

"I have a trust fund, set up by my great grandmother. The stipulations on it are that I cannot touch the principal until I turn 21 or get married, whichever comes first."

"That doesn't do a lot of good, if you can't touch it until after your married," Snape sneered, condescending. "The dowry must be paid beforehand, you silly girl."

Granger glared at Snape briefly, before returning her attention to the headmaster and continuing as if the wizard had never spoken. "I do, however, receive a monthly stipend, have done so since I was 10. I haven't needed most of it, not even after starting Hogwarts, since my parents have insisted on paying for all my needs. My parents and I opened an account for me early on. They handed full control of it over to me on my 15th birthday. The amount accrued in that account will be sufficient to cover both the dowry and anything else I might need for the coming year."

He had understood her! Draco felt a great amount of relief. He may still be marrying a mudblood, but at least she was a rich mudblood. That was something, at least.

"Wonderful!" the headmaster enthused.

"I just have one question."

"Just one?" Snape questioned drily.

Granger huffed, but otherwise ignored the sarcasm.

"What's that?" the headmaster asked calmly, clearly amused.

"Should I send the money in galleons or pounds?" She frowned a moment, the wheels of thought plainly turning. "Or would sending the dowry in muggle funds be too much of an insult?"

Then Draco heard something he thought he would never, ever hear; Professor Snape laughing. This was no light chuckle either. For the third time today, Draco found himself feeling completely off balance.

"If you're not careful, Miss Granger, hanging around Slytherins will corrupt you completely."

Granger finally turned to face the usually dour professor, smirking, clearly recognizing a compliment, Snape style, when she heard one. "That's not a Slytherin thing, Professor," she denied. "That is a woman thing."

"Surely, you're not suggesting that all women are Slytherin at heart," Snape smirked.

Granger laughed, actually laughed, at the snarky comment. "Of course not, Professor. I'm saying, all women with a score to settle can be the most vengeful creatures in the world."

That settles it, Draco thought as the Professor's expression darkened. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I'm marrying a madwoman," which completely broke the building tension between Granger and the professor -- much to Draco's chagrin, considering that wasn't what he'd intended. He hadn't actually intended to say it out loud, at all. Sounds of laughter, quickly stifled, radiated around him. Unfortunately, to his disappointment, he couldn't maintain his own pique at being the cause of it and soon found his own lips twitching upward into a reluctant chuckle.

He did wonder, briefly, why Granger's last comment had upset the professor, though. Frankly, he couldn't see anything wrong with the Griff wanting to get back at his father. She and Kathryn had been friends, after all. Before he could figure it out, however, the headmaster stood, effectively cutting off that train of thought.

"How difficult will it be for you to access those funds, Miss Granger," the older wizard asked. "I have to confess that I do not know much about muggle banking."

Granger shrugged. "Not difficult at all," she replied easily. "I'll just need to stop by my home to get my ID before going to my bank." She started to get up, then frowned, making a sound reminiscent of a growl. "In fact, it'll be easier than getting out of this blasted chair!" she snapped.

Draco very quickly hid any signs of his urge to smirk. Granger wasn't really that big yet, and if she'd had time to get used to it, like Kathryn had, she probably wouldn't be having troubles. He was actually kind of surprised she wasn't more off balance than she seemed to be, all things considered. He stepped forward, even before the two other wizards managed to hide their amusement -- not that Professor Snape was exactly trying very hard -- and put out a hand to help Granger to her feet.

A jolt of surprise shot through him as she smiled gratefully at him. Granger had made all manner of expressions toward him, she'd smirked, sneered, frowned, glared, and even kind of, sort of, grinned -- in a sad resigned kind of way. Never before now had he seen a true smile directed at him, not from her. Strangely enough, it felt sort of good to have put that smile there. As grateful as he was to her for the life of his and Kathryn's child, he hadn't expected to feel good about anything about this situation, least of all simply making her smile. It was . . . odd.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he murmured.

"Excellent. Professor Snape will escort you home and to the bank, then."

Draco turned startled eyes toward the headmaster, even as Hermione nodded and Professor Snape exploded from his seat.

"I will!?"

"Is that safe?" Draco asked overtop of his house head's startled objection.

"Quite, Mr. Malfoy. Even if your father should be aware of the friendship that developed between young Mrs. Malfoy and Miss Granger, he should have no way of knowing any of these recent, and rather unbelievable, circumstances. Until the two of you actually marry, Miss Granger should be in no more danger than she has always been in."

Draco nodded. It made sense. He still didn't feel easy about it, however. That was his child she was carrying and the fact that Hermione was 'not in any more danger', didn't mean she wasn't in danger. He had the feeling he would not be able to relax until such time as his new fiancee and child returned to the school.

x-x-x

As she and Professor Snape walked toward the perimeter of the anti-apparation wards, Hermione kept herself from fidgeting only with every ounce of her will power. While her parents shouldn't be home right now, it being mid-day on a Monday and all, it was possible. It would be difficult, at best, to explain what they were doing there without getting into a discussion of things she really didn't want to discuss. A hand drifted down to her swollen belly -- currently hidden under a very specific disallusionment charm -- lightly caressing it. As soon as she had thought of it, she'd set a note home to let her parents know she was 'spending time with a friend' for a few days, so they wouldn't be worried about that. What she hadn't done, was tell them anything about what had happened. She hadn't told them that the friend she was staying with wasn't actually living anymore, nor had she told them about her sudden and very unexpected pregnancy. Right now, she really didn't need the fallout from that little--

Little?!

--revelation. She knew it would be worse later on, but she just couldn't face their sure disappointment in what they would believe was her irresponsibility. She certainly wasn't about to tell them the truth. She snorted indelicately. That would go over even worse. Professor Snape cast her a dark look, but she completely ignored him. Their perfect little girl casting dark magic spells? She could hear it now. It would start with how the school had obviously corrupted her and go down hill from there. She would be lucky if she saw the outside of her bedroom before she turned eighteen.

"If you are finished with whatever thoughts could possibly be filling your tiny brain," Professor Snape sneered, "we are now past the wards."

Valiantly resisting both, rolling her eyes, and letting out an indignant huff, Hermione moved closer to her prickly professor. She knew well what would be required for him to apparate the both of them, and quite frankly, she wasn't looking forward to it. They had to touch, and not merely hand holding either. Apparating someone other than yourself required the apparating witch or wizard to be in full contact with the person they were apparating . . . full body contact. She stopped moving just as she entered what she would consider his 'personal space'; she wasn't going to be the one to initiate contact. As far back as she could remember she had never seen anyone actually touch the man, and she wasn't going to be the first one . . . at least not at her instigation.

Professor Snape didn't bother to hide or prevent his eye roll, and before Hermione could react, he'd reached out and in one seemingly choreographed move, turned her around and pulled her against him. In the blink of an eye she found herself not there. That was the only description she could find for the feeling of apparation. For a split second it felt like she simply didn't exist. Then it was over and she found herself released as quickly as they'd appeared. She couldn't quite hold back a slight gasp at the suddenness of it all. It was only then that it occured to her to wonder how the Professor knew where to apparate to. As far as she knew the professor had never been anywhere near her home before now, and they were near her home. She easily recognized the park, she had played in when she was younger. It was less than a 1/2 mile from her home.

She turned to ask, but no sooner had she opened her mouth when the professor cut her off.

"I asked, obviously, Miss Granger."

Oh, well, then

She frowned. But. . . ? All that she'd read, told her you couldn't apparate somewhere you'd never seen, let alone been. That thought led her to wonder if the--

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape snarled, "I suggest you stop lollygagging about and lead the way. This isn't a pleasure jaunt," he continued in a near hiss.

Hermione jumped, automatically turning to obey. She couldn't get the nagging questions out of her mind, though. Why was he waiting for her to lead, when he had to have been here before? He had to have to apparate here. "Professor?" she began.

Practically growling at her, he seemed to anticipate her question. "There are ways, Miss Granger," he snapped. "What ways, are none of your concern, however. Now, can we get on with this. I'd like to have what's left of this day to myself."

Wanting to growl right back at the snarly professor, herself, Hermione grit her teeth and strode toward her home. Fine! If that's the way he wanted to be, then she wouldn't bother suggesting a better way. Of course, no one had bothered to ask her about it, she ranted to herself, fuming. She couldn't possibly have anything useful to contribute. She obviously wasn't old enough to know anything at all.

The fact that they were over a mile and a half from her front door shouldn't be of concern to anyone. No! of course not. And of course, she continued on her silent rant, not slowing her pace at all, if I had been asked I'd have been able to tell them they could safely apparate into my back yard. No one would be home, she knew, with the possible exception of her parents. They were in the know, however, so it wouldn't matter if they saw the magical arrival. None of the servants would be, though. There was never any staff in the house on Sundays or Mondays, hadn't been as far back as she could remember.

In her thought filled preoccupation, they reached the gatehouse much sooner than she expected. Reluctantly dragging her focus back to reality, she entered the security code, and quickly stepped back to allow the gate to swing open without hindrance. Without even allowing herself the smallest of glances to see the professor's reaction, she strode through the gate, fully expecting the man to follow her. Much as she usually enjoyed being here, Hermione didn't stop, or even slow down, to enjoy the grounds surrounding her childhood home. She'd seen it before many times, and right now, she really didn't want to give the professor time to make any kind of derogatory remarks.

She cringed inside, realizing this would give the wizard excellent material to further taunt her at school. She could already hear the taunts. Instead of simply being an 'insufferable know-it-all', she would now become an 'insufferable princess know-it-all'. She barely resisted a rather heart-felt sigh. She'd lived that the first 10 years of her life, the children she'd attended muggle school with hadn't been any kinder about her . . . differences, than many of the students at Hogwarts. While Hogwarts may have been her first direct experience with -- for lack of a better word -- racial bigotry, she had been no stranger to ostracism and the cruelty of children the day she first boarded the Hogwart's Express. The muggle children's taunts had never had anything to do with 'blood purity', but they had hurt no less for all that. By the time she'd begun Hogwarts, her self-defensive wall of rampant superiority had been well built, her love of books and learning making her just as much a pariah here in this world as in the wizarding one. She laughed ruefully as she climbed up the few steps and onto her front porch. That defense had almost lost her the best friendships she had ever had . . . before they had even started.

Again paying little to no attention to the professor accompanying her, she swiftly unlocked her front door and stepped into the house. "Welcome to my home, Professor," she said absently as she headed directly for the control panel for the security system. She certainly had no desire for the police to show up while they were there simply because she forgot to turn the blasted thing off.

After entering all the necessary codes and closing the panel door, Hermione braced herself and turned to face Professor Snape. As she had suspected, he was watching her intently, his eyebrow sharply arched. His expression, however, was surprising neutral.

"You do realize, don't you, Miss Granger," he drawled, pointedly perusing their surroundings, "that had you alluded to your family's wealth, you would have saved yourself the majority of Mr. Malfoy's taunts?"

"What?" she asked, beyond confused. Mal-- Draco's problem with her had been -- was -- her abilities and her heritage. What did money have to do with that?

Letting out the most put-upon sigh Hermione had ever heard, Professor Snape looked down his nose at her. "Your muggle ancestory aside, Miss Granger, the Malfoy's respect two things; wealth and power. Money is power."

Oh! Well, that made sense, actually. She frowned. Too bad she hadn't thought of that a long time ago. Not that she'd wanted to be friends with Malfoy before now. Well, it wasn't like she wanted to be now even, but, well, she kind of had to. Didn't she? She was marrying him after all. It would sort of suck if they couldn't be at least . . . friendly.

She shook her head clear of her strange thoughts. "Hindsight, and all that, Professor," she offered softly, ruefully. "I'll just run up to my room and get my ID," she continued, turning and heading for the stairs. "I'll be right back."

It didn't take her long to retrieve her ID from her room; though, she was fairly certain the professor with her did not agree. Now, on their way to the bank, once again walking, the professor was watching her oddly, rather intently, actually. His expression, however, lacked the usual sneer, or haughty superiority. It was quite puzzling. Finally, only a block from the bank, Hermione gave up holding onto her curiosity.

"What?" she asked carefully, attempting not to let her frustration and discomfort bleed into her voice.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze intensifying for several heartbeats before he drew a deep breath. Ready to be lambasted for daring to ask, Hermione was suprirsed when he spoke quietly. "I have discovered that people who come from backgrounds such as you so very obviously do, tend to think in certain ways. I find myself disbelieving that you never once considered throwing your obvious wealth in Mr. Malfoy's self-righteous path. While your personality is a clue, were one to look closely enough, you show your wealth in neither your clothing, possessions, words, or most of your professed attitudes."

It was Hermione's turn to narrow her eyes, anger shooting through her at the implied insult to her. She stomped down on it . . . hard. Willing to forgo it in the face of her Professor seeming civility. If he could be civil to her, she could certainly remain civil to him. "You are . . . partially right, Professor," she replied carefully. "When you're rich, you are supposed to have certain attitudes and behave in certain ways. That's as true in the muggle world as it is in the wizarding one." And I'm answering this very personal question, why? she wondered incredulously. "What also holds true for both worlds is that acting outside expected behavior leads to ostracism. Being rich does not seem to override being a nerd, at least, not in public school.

"So you see, Professor, there has been very little difference for me between my two worlds. At Hogwarts, I am well known as the bossy bookworm, or, in some cases, an insufferable know-it-all. In the muggle world--"

I can't believe I'm admitting this! I'm handing this to him on a bloody silver platter!

"--I was known as the princess know-it-all."

The professor's eyebrow went up again.

Okay, Mr. Spock, she thought sarcastically, even as she shrugged in response.

"So, you see, Sir; it would never occur to me to use being rich as a defense, as it has always been something else the other children could taunt me with."

"Understood," he said simply, and amazingly enough, he really looked like he did understand.

They had reached the bank, however, so her opportunity to ask him about it was lost. She was more than certain -- given the way his expression immediately closed off -- that the end of the discussion had arrived. She strode into the building, thankful to find no line, and completed her withdrawal as quickly as she could. Neither of them spoke until after they left the bank. In fact, they did not speak for the entire walk back; though, she almost did when Professor Snape headed toward her front gate, instead of the park. It was obvious the minute she thought about it, of course. Her property was closer, and once they were behind the stone fence surrounding it, they could safely apparate. She had to admit, she was glad of it. She was extremely uncomfortable carrying around so much cash and would have felt even more so, walking to the park with it.

As he reached for her, she finally spoke. "As . . . satisfying as it might be to royally insult Draco's father," she offered thoughtfully, staying the professor's hand with her words. "I think we should exchange the dowry into galleons. No need to make him any more angry than he's already going to be."

Professor Snape nodded. "Sensible," he stated firmly, and without another word, apparated the both of them to Diagon Alley.

TBC

Kiristeen
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