all characters belong to JKR
22, April 1813. The same Evening, a bit later:
She claimed that she believed him. She claimed that she no longer believed that he betrayed her during the war. Why was she still so resistant to him, if that was the truth? "If you believe me, then why do you act as if you still hate me?"
"Because you lied, and when we married, you promised that you would never lie to me."
"I have not lied, my wife!" he proclaimed. Hermione tried to sit up, but Draco pushed her back down. "Do not try to move. You are still weak."
"I do not want to talk of the past. It serves no purpose," she said, still struggling to sit, although it was futile.
He sighed, pushed on her shoulder and said, "I shall not upset you anymore tonight. I have done that enough in our lives. I will not press you for explanations. Nonetheless, I wish to remind you that I have never lied to you since we have been married. I love you, Hermione. I do, and I have loved you since the war. What can I do to convince you of that, and to make you see that you love me back?"
She began to cry. He hated upsetting her. He said, "If you do not wish to recall how we fell in love that is fine."
"I did not fall in love with you during the war!" she denied.
"You may not love me now, but I know that you did at one time," he alleged. "I am not a stupid man."
She turned her head back toward the wall. "That is debatable."
He laughed and said, "I am so pleased you are feeling better and are up to exchanging cutting remarks again, my love, my wife."
She turned back toward him. He stood to go and when he reached the doorway, he turned back and said, "Rest now. We have all the time in the world to talk. Perhaps tomorrow you might like to get out of bed."
He walked out of the room and once in the hallway he heard her say, "I did not fall in love with you during the war. I did not." He leaned against the door, and hung his head. He did not know how much more of her denial he could abide. If it was not denial, but the truth, than he had never been a bigger fool. He was about to walk away when she said, "I started to fall in love with you during the war, and I might have, but I fell in love with you the night you stole my book. However, that was all a lie. I have been such a fool."
He sprang back into the room, surprising her, and he said, "No, you are not a fool." How did she know that he was the highwayman?
"Yes, I was a fool, because that was not the real you," she argued.
Chapter 10: 16, July 1812, Meeting at her Stepmother's House:
Bill told Hermione that she was summoned to her stepmother's house very early the next morning. He said that Mrs. Granger asked that her son-in-law and her eldest daughter accompany her. She dressed quickly, and since the townhouse was in Muggle London, they took his brother's carriage there. When they walked into the woman's townhouse, they were surprised to see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley already there, sitting in the parlor.
Hermione walked into the parlor, and Harry and Ron stood. Harry walked over and kissed Hermione's cheek. She said, "What a pleasure it is to see you this morning, Harry." She walked over to Ron and kissed his cheek, and held his hand and added, "And Ron."
"Why are we here, though, that is what I'd like to know," Harry said back. Fleur and Bill were shown into another room by the butler. When Hermione realized they were not behind her, she merely looked at Harry and shrugged.
The three friends began to speak, when only a short time later Gabby ran into the room and said, "Is it not all so utterly romantic?"
Hermione frowned at the younger girl and said, "What?"
"Oh, Hermione, you mean Mama has not yet spoken with you?" Gabby asked, shocked.
Suddenly, Bill stormed out of the library, his wife's hand in his and he shouted, "Never! Not as long as I live!"
The three friends looked at each other confused, as they all rushed to the foyer. "Come Hermione!" Bill said, holding out his free hand to her.
"It is done, Bill," Mrs. Granger said. "The contracts are signed, and the special license has already been granted. He has offered a grand allowance, and I have granted him access to her dowry."
"I am her oldest male relative now!" Bill shouted.
"Not according to the Ministry. According to them she without a male relative, therefore, I shall make such decisions. She does not even come into her majority until she is 21 years old, which is still months away, so as acting guardian, I made the choice," Mrs. Granger retorted. "Be sensible, Bill. It is a most fortunate match! She shall never want for anything, and he is a pureblood!"
Suddenly, Hermione felt faint.
Harry rushed to Mrs. Granger and said, "To what are you referring?"
Fleur let go of her husband's hand, took her younger sister's hand instead, and said, "Come with me, Gabby." Then she looked at her mother and said, "You should have consulted Bill on this matter, Mama. It is a horrible, horrible thing you have done. I am shocked!" The sisters left the foyer for the upstairs.
"Please," Hermione started, "someone explain to me what is happening."
"This is not as it should have been," her stepmother said. "I only sent for Bill and Fleur this morning. I had no clue they were to bring you, Hermione. My missive asked that they arrange for you to come thirty minutes later. I sent for your friends as soon as I heard from Fleur that Bill was bringing you along now."
"Why are we all here?" Ron begged.
Bill almost growled and said, "My esteem mother-in-law sent me an Owl this morning claiming that she signed a betrothal contract for Hermione to marry, although she omitted the other party, on purpose, I am sure." Hermione gasped. Bill looked at her and said, "I promise, she never told me with whom, and she did say that she would like to see me and Fleur alone, to tell us first, but I sent her back an Owl telling her that I was to bring you, since it concerned you."
Hermione continued to step backwards. Her hand was over her heart. She said, "To whom am I betrothed?"
She stopped when she felt the warmth of a body behind her. By the expression on her friends' faces, she already knew who it was before he spoke. He said, "To me, my lady."
Hermione felt as if someone had taken all the wind out of her sails. No, this could not be happening. What had this woman done to her? She turned slowly, as if in a dream, and looked up at the face of Draco Malfoy. She slowly swallowed, blinked her eyes, clenched her fists, and said one thing. "No."
Then she ran out of the house. To her relief, no one followed.
An hour later, she was sitting in a Muggle park, watching fancy carriages, curricles and horse riders go by, in what only could be described as a promenade. Everyone was on display for the pleasure of others. Men wore fancy coats and hats, shiny boots, and silk waistcoats of every colour. They rode in fine open curricles, with shiny horses pulling them, or on top of fancy steeds, tipping their hats to all the ladies, Hermione included.
Women walked in groups, with parasols, and fancy bonnets, some with ornate ribbons, some with ostrich feathers dyed blue and green, smiling demurely at the men, but all the while meaning, "I am available."
The whole display made her sick to her stomach.
At least it helped her temporarily to forget the fact that she was in a predicament, and she was not sure how she was to get out of it. She stood from the bench, and started walking. She walked toward a little stone bridge, and looked down into the water. The memories of her first meeting with him during the war rushed back to her.
That day, she was gathering firewood. Harry and Ron had been gone for days, when they had said they would be gone less than one day, and she was worried, and therefore, somewhat careless, and reckless. She should never have left the confined safety of the tent, but it was the dead of winter, and she was frightfully cold. She desperately needed firewood and water, so she ventured out.
That was when he found her.
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Draco had been watching her for over an hour before he finally decided to let his presence known. She was being irresponsible, appearing out in the open like this. First, she gathered firewood, and then she gathered water. Now, she was by the river, merely staring into the water, while her water and kindling stayed by the wayside. Did she not know of the dangers out there?
He knew if he allowed her to see him, she would be afraid. The last time he had seen her, almost a year prior; he had tried to kill their headmaster. She would have no clue that he was working for the Order of the Phoenix now. The only two people who knew were Snape and Lupin, who was the current leader of the Order. It was too risky to let others know. If the Death Eaters, or Draco's family, found out that he was providing intelligence to the light side, he would surely meet with an early demise.
Where were Potter and Weasley? They must be hunting for Horcruxes. Not many people knew that was their task, but Draco knew. She continued to sit next to the riverbank, and soon, she was on her back, staring up at the sky, and the canopy of barren tree limbs. It was frightfully cold. Why was she on her back on the cold ground? Was she ill?
Hermione lay back, and stared up at the grey, cold, winter sky, and wondered when Harry and Ron were to return. They had been gone for days. They had promised that they would be gone no longer than 24 hours. She was not sure what she should do. Should she wait for them? Should she be looking for them? Should she do nothing at all, but remain by the riverbank, and let the cold winter wind blow her into oblivion?
She was weary. She was alone, and cold, and afraid. She knew it was risky to be out in the open, but it was better than being inside that small tent, on her own, even for one moment longer.
She heard a twig break in the forest. That in and of itself would not be odd, since many animals lived in the forest, but she knew this sound was different. She stayed on her back, but reached in her coat for her wand.
She heard rustling of the undergrowth, and she hurried to try to get to her feet, but only made it to her knees when she found a wand pointing at her. "Why are you alone and lying on the ground, Granger?"
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"Why are you all alone? May I join you, Hermione?" a voice behind her asked. She nodded. Draco sat down beside her. She turned slightly, so that she did not have to look at him. "Lovely day is it not?" he asked.
"Very." She sounded less than convinced.
"I am sorry for the way you found out my intentions, Hermione," he said.
She turned to him and said, "How was I to find out?"
"I wanted to ask you myself. That was the plan. I should have known that nothing ever turns out correctly when you are involved." He gave her a slight smile, and a slight laugh, though neither of them found the situation remotely funny.
She turned away again.
"So you were to ask for my hand, or were you to tell me that marriage between us was already decided?" she asked, as she turned back to look at him.
He reached for her hand, and to his surprise, she allowed him to take it. "Would marriage to me be so bad, Hermione?"
"Why would you want to marry me, my Lord?" she asked, withdrawing her hand.
"Why not?" he countered with a grin.
"We are not in love," she said.
"AH, love and affection, are they so terribly important when it comes to a successful marriage?" he asked.
She clenched her fists, which made him smile, and she said, "Of course they are!"
"Then you don't love me?" he asked, with a smirk. "My feelings are hurt."
"You do not love me, either!" she said.
He was tired of her suppositions and assumptions, and false claims, but to serve his purpose, he would not declare his love, not yet. Not until he was sure of her feelings for him, because the truth was, he really did not know if the feelings she once felt still existed, or if they died long ago. It did not matter, because if they were dead, he would resurrect them. He would earn her love anew. He had to, or else.
"You don't love me," she repeated.
"Perhaps not, perhaps I do, but I still stand by my statement," he began, "that love is not the most important ingredient to a successful union."
"Affection is important! Friendship is important!" she snapped.
"You have affection for things like animals and food, my lady. You have Harry the hero and the Weasel for friends. I am offering you something more," he argued.
"You are pureblood," she pointed out.
He stood up, smiled, and said, "How nice of you to point that out, although I had not forgotten."
"Is this marriage proposal in retaliation for something I've done, or some miscarriage of justice that you feel was wronged against you by the Ministry? Is it to get past the restrictions, marry the first Mudblood that comes along?" she asked.
"You sound surprisingly like Potter, for he argued the same point but only moments ago," he snapped, walking around the bench. He ended up back in front of her. "Those were his words, almost verbatim. Believe me, I have found other ways to collect my due from the Ministry, and marrying a Mudblood is not one of them. Can you think of no other reason that I might want to marry you?"
She looked pained for a moment, and then joined him to stand. When she did not answer his question, he suggested, "Walk with me, Hermione."
It bothered her that he kept using her name with so much familiarity. It bothered her that he had not considered her feelings once. It bothered her that there was a time when she had once entertained marrying him, but that was a dream of long ago, which had also long ago shattered.
He offered his arm. She clasped her hands in front of her and began to walk toward a fountain. He clasped his hands together, and joined her.
"When is the wedding?" she asked sarcastically.
"That will be up to you and your stepmother, but soon I hope," he said.
"Really?" she said with derision, coming to a stop. "I get to make a decision regarding all of this?"
"Surprising, no?" he asked with the same amount of indignation as she asked her question.
"I suggest a long engagement," she said, seriously.
"So I might have time to persuade you?" he asked with a smile. "Court you, woo you, and bend you to my will?"
She laughed. He smiled. "There is time for that after marriage," he concluded.
"Surely you do not mean that," she said with genuine surprise, coming to another stop.
He took her arm, forcing her hands apart, and tucked one of her hands into his elbow, his other hand on top of it. "If you keep stopping it will take us all day for our stroll." He added, "And the special license was so that we might proceed quickly. I see no reason to wait."
She tried to stop again, but he would not allow it. He led her to the fountain, and he pointed to the ledge. She sat down, her back to the large fish statue with water spurting from its mouth.
She said, "Why rush it?"
"Why not?" he added. She looked at the ground. He reached out, touched her chin, and forced her eyes to his. She shook, not in fear, but with feelings long since denied. He said, "Please, know one thing. I will never force you to do anything you would not want to do, that is, after we are married." He smiled, because he had to add the words, 'after we are married,' or she would argue the point that marriage itself was being forced upon her.
He added, "Furthermore, I shall gain your trust again, your friendship, and your love. I shall never lie to you. I will try to be a husband who deserves you. I cannot force you to love me, but I hope that love will come in time. I will even wait for the marriage bed, but not long, but long enough until you are comfortable with the idea."
She blushed. He still had her chin. He rubbed his thumb on her chin, his fingers on her cheek. She was transported to last night, with the highwayman. He did almost the exact same thing to her cheek, and she felt almost the exact same thing. She did not know what to think of the two events, and why they felt so similar, when two different men enacted them.
She stood suddenly. She felt she was overwhelmed and suffocating. Her thoughts went once more to the highwayman, and back to Draco. Why had she not seen what had been plainly in front of her? She started to shake all over, and he seemed concerned.
"Hermione?" he asked. He reached for her.
She backed away. To cover for her anxiety and for what she felt was a discovery, she said, "Do I have any say at all, regarding anything?" She took two steps backwards. He stood up too, and turned to face her.
"We will announce our engagement to the members of the Wizarding 'ton' during the Bone's annual ball tomorrow night. I have already sought their approval to do so."
"Then I guess I don't have a say in anything," she said sardonically.
He held out his arm and said, "Allow me to walk you back?"
"I am not happy with this," she said, although she was not sure that was the complete truth. At least now, her feelings for a common robber could be explained.
"Will you allow me to call on you, before the ball, perhaps tomorrow, and then escort you there later?" he asked.
Hermione placed her hand tentatively on his arm and said, "You may, but this has not yet been decided, Malfoy. Not at all. I will never do anything that I do not want to do, understand?"
"Of course, do you think I want a wife who is a weak, milquetoast?" he asked.
She signed, stopped walking and patted his cheek, in which he raised an eyebrow, and she said, "The definition of milquetoast is a timid man, Lord Malfoy."
He cupped her cheek, as her hand lowered from his, and said, "And I stand by my statement. I would never want to be married to a timid man."
She stared at him in shock for a moment, and then she could not help but to smile, and then to even laugh. She closed her eyes, as his hand lingered on her cheek. When she opened them, and he was still smiling at her.
This might work, but first, she had to find out if her highwayman and Malfoy were one and the same. If they were not, she had to find out if she had any real feelings for the other man. It was the only fair thing to do. She could not marry one man, if she had lingering feelings for another, and if they were the same man, there would be no problem to solve at all. She was not sure how she would find him to send him a message, but she would.
They walked back to her stepmother's townhouse, and once outside the door, she said, "Would you consider waiting to make the announcement, just until I ask it of you?"
"Why wait?"
"I need to see a friend first. I need to ascertain his feelings on something, before I can commit myself to you. That is my only stipulation. Allow me a week, at the most." She was sure she would see her highwayman within the week.
He wondered if the friend she spoke of was the highwayman. Why would she need to seek his opinion? He knew why she wanted to wait. She wanted to see the highwayman again. She was falling in love with him. Draco would allow her to see 'him' one last time, and he would make it a meeting she would not forget, or forgive. Soon, her love would only be for him, as he really was, and not for the highwayman.
He bowed, took her hand, and said, "That would be amendable. That way, we can have our own engagement ball, which is something your stepmother suggested." He raised her hand to his lips, but at the last moment, he turned it around and placed a soft kiss on her wrist, instead of the top, which seemed so much more intimate, sensual, and compelling. He dropped her wrist and said, "We shall wait, but not long. We will get to know each other, and I am sure that we will find that we like what we see. I for one am tired of deceptions, and I am tired of wearing masks. I want you to know the real me. I think we might find our fairytale, happy ending, Hermione. You believe in fairytales, do you not?"
He walked away from the house, smiling.
She stood on the stoop, mouth agape. Fairytales. Masks. Deceptions. She suddenly felt as if her confusion was whisked away. Oh how easy it all would be, if Draco was her highwayman! Then she would not have to select one over the other. She walked into the door, smiling.