Chapter 11—The King
As they made their way down to the grand dining hall, Hermione transferred her grip from Draco's hand to the crook of his arm. Although it looked more elegant, it wasn't her reason for the switch. It was mainly due to the fact that her palms were becoming so sweaty that she didn't want to saturate Draco's hand in her distress. She took a deep breath and forced herself to exhale slowly. Calm down, Hermione…you can do this, she told herself. It wasn't like she had never met the Malfoys before…
Hermione, Neville and Harry leaned back against the door that had just sealed behind them. Harry put his ear to the door, and Hermione leaned back as well, listening closely as Lucius Malfoy's voice roared from the other side:
"Leave Nott, leave him, I say, the Dark Lord will not care for Nott's injuries as much as losing that prophecy—Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary…"
Hermione caught her breath and stopped walking. Draco, puzzled, turned to face her. "What is it?" he asked.
"I…I'm just a bit more nervous than I realized," she confessed.
Draco let out a slow breath and said in a careful voice, "Granger, you don't have to do this, you know. I've already had it out a bit with my Mum…I can handle it by myself. I always have before." His voice was gruff, but she could see the underlying concern lurking in his eyes.
She looked back at him and raised her chin. "No, I do have to do this. Just as much for myself as I do for you. I'm ready now," she declared, again taking his arm.
They had reached the spiral staircase and began to descend. "Okay, it's your funeral…at least you're dressed for it," he said in a mocking tone.
Hermione gave him a good-natured glare. "And at least you'll be properly accessorized at my services," she said playfully as she pulled off his sunglasses.
"Hey! I need those!" he cried, lunging at Hermione's hand, but she just managed to keep them out of his reach. She dashed down the remaining steps, giggling as Draco chased her, demanding the return of his glasses at the top of his voice.
At the foot of the staircase, Draco managed to seize her in a bear hug around the waist, shaking as she giggled even harder. "Granger, give them here!" he roared, as she got a close up view of his still quite ostentatiously prominent eyelashes and nearly screamed with laughter.
"Goddamit, Granger—"
"What is that infernal racket?" a voice boomed from the adjoining hallway.
Hermione and Draco both froze in place. They had been half bent over with laughter and Draco's arms were still wrapped firmly around her waist. At the last second, Hermione managed to push Draco's sunglasses back onto his face with her one hand in a fluid, over-her-shoulder movement just before Lucius Malfoy appeared at the end of the hallway.
At the sight of his father, Draco straightened up so abruptly that Hermione thought she heard the vertebrae in her back crack. Draco's arms were still wrapped around her waist and belatedly, he realized this and snatched his hands away.
"Father," Draco said in a stiff tone, "you're home."
Lucius Malfoy stared at the two of them with such revulsion that Hermione felt her limbs grow cold. Unable to move or speak, she stared back at Draco's father wide-eyed as he took a few steps closer and turned his glare full blast onto his son.
"Thank you for stating the obvious, Draco," he said in a haughty tone. "And just what is that ridiculous contraption on your face?"
Draco pushed the sunglasses more firmly into place and smirked as Hermione swallowed audibly. "Part of my costume," he said in an insolent tone. "You like?"
How in the name of Merlin can he be so blasé in the face of such animosity? Hermione marveled as she looked back at Lucius Malfoy, who was looking at Draco with ill-concealed disapproval. "'Like' is most definitely not a word that comes to mind," Lucius said, venom dripping from every word. "What are those preposterous things, anyway?"
"They're called…sunglashes."
Hermione very nearly corrected him, but managed to hold her tongue at the last moment.
"Sunglashes," Lucius repeated in disbelief. "And where in Salazar's name did you get an idea like that?"
Before he could get an answer, Lucius' eyes fell on to Hermione and his eyes narrowed with contempt. "Never mind," he said in a curt tone. "I have my suspicions."
Draco immediately looked over at Hermione. "Father, this is Hermione Granger," he said in an attempt to break the tension. "I guess you've been expecting her, according to Tooky…"
"Who in the bloody hell is Tooky?"
"Your house elf," Hermione supplied in a small voice.
"Oh yes," Lucius said dismissively. "Well, Miss Granger…welcome to Malfoy Manor."
Hermione thought that she would have been hard pressed to hear a welcome that sounded even more insincere then Narcissa Malfoy's, but Lucius Malfoy's welcome made Narcissa's sound like a veritable greeting to a long-lost relative. She self-consciously twisted her hands in the folds of her gown. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she managed.
Lucius turned away, ignoring her. "I spoke of another guest," he said to Draco. "They have not arrived yet, but I suggest that we all be in the dining hall when they do arrive, in order to greet them properly." And with that, he turned on his heel and strode off down the hallway, his black silk cape swirling behind him.
Great Merlin, that was painful, Hermione thought, as she stood frozen in place. How in the world am I going to get through dinner?
"Oi, Granger, you okay?"
Hermione continued to stare at the empty corridor that Lucius had disappeared into.
"Granger?"
He looked at me as if I were the lowest, most repulsive—
"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed as she jumped away from Draco's hand, which had firmly planted itself onto her bum. Draco smirked back at her.
"I thought that'd do the trick," he drawled with an evil grin.
Hemione scowled at him. "Something tells me that that's not the only reason you did it," she said in a tart voice. "And how can you be so…so normal when they press you like that? I nearly fainted under the force of that glare," she confessed.
He shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said, tucking her hand once again into the crook of his arm. So much for explanations, Hermione thought sourly. They took a few steps towards the corridor that led to the dining hall; then Draco stopped and turned to her. "Last chance to back out," he offered.
Hermione squared her shoulders. "No…I'm ready now. Let's do this."
Draco grimaced and they headed into the corridor as he muttered, "Stubborn, stubborn Gryffindor," under his breath.
Finally, they entered the dining hall and Hermione gasped at the lavishness and elegance of the great room. It was rather dark, as were all of the rooms at the Manor, with large antique candelabras placed to give off just enough light to create mystique, but not enough to invite warmth. The room was decorated in gold and jade-green and the long, grand table was draped in a silk shantung tablecloth, and set with gold-plated china. The one wall that faced the grounds was primarily all windows that reached from floor to ceiling, and the full moon was clearly in view. It afforded the strongest source of light in the room and the comforting silver-blue light caused Hermione to let out a slow breath. The color actually reminded her of Draco's eyes. As he led her over to a seat, she chanced a glimpse at his eyes, but they were still well hidden behind the sunglasses, which made her lips twitch as she stifled a giggle. Ah yes, how could I forget? Well, she thought, if that's what it takes to get me through this dinner, then so be it.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were standing at the head and foot of the table, respectively, waiting for Hermione and Draco to find their places before they all sat down. Neither Malfoy parent would even look at Hermione; rather they were both staring forward stoically, as if this were a form of torture for them that need be endured, but nothing more. Hermione took the opportunity to observe their costumes, which were just as exquisitely made as Draco's. Lucius Malfoy wore unrelieved black—his attire consisted of a frock coat with tails for evening, and a black silk shirt with an intricately tied black cravat at the throat. His long, white-blonde hair was pulled back rather severely from his face and tied into a leather club at the nape of his neck, making him look even more intimidating. Hermione shivered and her eyes flicked over to Draco's mother Narcissa, who was resplendent in an empire-waist satin gown in a shade of green so dark that it looked nearly black. Her long, fair hair was piled into an elaborate twist on her head, and crowned with an emerald and onyx tiara. Both Malfoys also wore vampire capes, identical to the one Draco had on.
How very calculating, Hermione realized. Everyone is dressed the same except me. As if I didn't already feel enough like an outsider. She let out a slow breath and willed herself to relax. Then Lucius sat down and everyone else at the table followed suit.
Hermione took a silk napkin from the plate in front of her, marveling at how such a perfect piece of silk could be used for a napkin, and spread it across her lap. A voice from her right startled her out of her reverie.
"So, Miss Granger, what an…interesting choice of attire." It was Narcissa Malfoy, who made the remark with just the right inflection to make Hermione feel like as if she were dressed appallingly wrong, even though the choice of words was completely neutral.
Hermione swallowed and resisted the urge to squirm. "Er…thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," she ventured, not knowing what else to say.
"Yeah, nice job, Granger," Draco drawled from across the table with a leer.
Narcissa turned her attention to her son. Hermione let out a puff of air in relief as she was no longer in the line of fire, albeit temporarily. "And just what are those ridiculous things on your face, Draco?" Narcissa demanded.
"Part of my improvement to the costume, Mum. Like I said…the dawning of a new era," he baited her.
Narcissa pressed her lips together in a thin line and Lucius muttered "Insolence," under his breath as he poured himself a glass of wine from a nearby carafe.
"Well, this new era looks quite bleak, son," Narcissa rejoined, wrinkling her nose.
Lucius smirked from behind his wine goblet.
Draco pushed his glasses a bit further up on the bridge of his nose and gave his mother a cocky smile, although Hermione noticed that the smile had a tightness around the mouth that she wasn't used to seeing.
Narcissa grimaced at Draco and then turned back on Hermione. "So, Miss Granger, what is it exactly that you are supposed to be, here…some sort of Greek goddess, I suppose?" she said in a patronizing tone.
Before she could answer, Lucius Malfoy broke in, "Persephone, it looks like," he clarified in a clipped tone, setting down his goblet but still not deigning to look at Hermione. "The goddess of spring…how very…Gryffindor of a choice," he said derisively.
All right, that's enough, Hermione thought, feeling her temper begin to rise. Wolves in sheep's clothing…pretending to be the cultured hosts when they're really acting like a couple of narrow-minded bullies.
"That's true, Mr. Malfoy, but you're also forgetting that she became the Queen of the Underworld," she said in a challenging tone. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco's stiff smirk turn into a genuinely wicked grin.
Finally, Lucius looked directly at her and his eyes were full of such loathing that Hermione wanted to look away, but she forced herself to hold his gaze as she raised her chin in determination.
Their stare-down was interrupted by the entrance of Tooky the house elf. "Mr. Malfoy," she said, looking unsure of herself, "your guest is just arrived."
Lucius smiled a cold, satisfied smile and still looking at Hermione, said, "Excellent…send them in." Hermione stubbornly continued to maintain eye contact.
"Father, just who is—"
"Hello, Draco, long time no see," a voice from above purred. Upon hearing the voice, Hermione narrowed her eyes. I know that voice…but it couldn't be… Finally breaking eye contact with Lucius Malfoy, she slowly looked up in the direction the voice had come from.
It was Pansy Parkinson.
