The Alkahest
Chapter Thirteen: Estrangement
…
The next week passed much like the previous. Now it was May, and she hadn't seen Draco since that fateful night in her flat. She'd gotten an invitation to one of Narcissa's soirees, but wasn't sure if his mother was aware of what had happened between them. She also didn't know if Draco would be there, or if he would not want her to be there.
In the end, she'd declined, explaining that she already had plans for that evening, and had thanked Narcissa for thinking of her. She decided she couldn't risk it.
No owls came immediately after that decision, so she determined that Narcissa must have been fine with it. If she hadn't been, she was sure Lucius would have finally sent her one of his rare owls chastising her for being a bint. And Draco might have actually shown up at her flat demanding that she go to his mother's party.
But he didn't. And she felt pathetic for kind of wishing he would.
After her failed attempts at trying to meet with him, Hermione had decided to give him his space, and the week edged by at an excruciating pace without his company. She felt listless at work, finding it a little difficult to concentrate. They finally seemed to be reaching an accord with the trolls, and she couldn't even find it within herself to be as ecstatic about that as she knew she should be.
Her days at the office grew a little longer as she threw herself into new projects, and as the third Malfoy-less week was well under way, Harry finally stopped by her cubicle.
"You don't live here, you know," he said. He was still in his Auror robes, although she knew it was near the end of the day. "You haven't been over in ages. Ron thought you were mad at him until Ginny told him that you and Malfoy were fighting."
She decided to ignore his comment about Draco. She didn't want to talk about him. "I have a new project and you know how important the first couple of days are with it," she said. Her voice sounded perfectly even, to her endless surprise. She continued to write on her parchment, jotting down her notes on the book she kept glancing at. Then Harry reached over and closed the book, making her jump a bit. "Harry! Now I've lost my place," she said, crossly.
He didn't look apologetic at all. "Get up, because I'm taking you home." His tone brooked no argument. Harry wasn't usually a commanding sort, but every once in a while, when he got that expression on his face, there was absolutely no trying to fight him.
Scowling, Hermione packed up her things and stood. He stepped back from the opening of her cubicle, gesturing down the hallway, and she made a face at him as she passed.
"I don't know why you're so adamant. I've stayed late nights at the office before," she defended.
"Yes, but not because you were all torn up inside over a blonde-haired git," he pointed out. "I'm not going to sit around and let you wallow in your cubicle. You'll go mad in there. Come see your friends."
"I see you lot all the time."
"I don't know if you've noticed, Hermione, in your Waaah, I miss Malfoy haze of self-pity, but you haven't actually seen any of us in over two weeks," he scoffed. "As I recall, you used to like hanging out with us, and I think even if you're not seeing Malfoy on a daily basis, you might still enjoy the experience."
"Will you stop talking about Draco?" She hugged her work to her chest, frowning.
"Maybe if you stop spending every waking moment thinking about him," Harry muttered. "Honestly, you're like a lovesick teenager over the prat."
"Good evening, Mister Potter. Miss Granger."
Hermione froze as that silky voice came from an adjoining hallway to the one they were walking along. No. It couldn't be. She didn't have luck that rotten, surely.
As she turned, she realized that yes, she did have luck that rotten. Lucius looked at them both with impassive politeness, and she went a brilliant tomato-red, wondering what exactly he'd heard. From the supercilious way he was cocking his eyebrow, she was sure he heard way more than she wanted him to hear. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy," she muttered. Her parchments began to wrinkle as she hugged them harder into herself.
"Lucius," he reminded her.
"Hello, Lucius," she repeated, dutifully, scowling at the ground.
His gaze lifted to Harry, who muttered a hello as well. Then he said, "Mister Potter, I would like to take a moment of Miss Granger's time. Would you mind if I made her tardy to your get-together?"
She wondered if Harry caught the mocking inflection to the last word.
Obviously not, because he just sighed and nodded. "Hermione, you'll come over, won't you?" he pressed. When she didn't respond, he ducked down to stare into her down-turned face, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
"Yes, alright, I'll come over."
"Excellent. See you in a few." He clapped her on the back and started to head off, and she resisted the urge to scream after him: No, don't leave me with Lucius sodding Malfoy!
But he turned the corner, and was gone.
Unwillingly, Hermione turned back to Lucius, who was looking at her with an insufferably amused expression. "Thank you for your time, Miss Granger."
"You know, if we're supposed to be on a first-name basis, you should be calling me Hermione," she said, pursing her lips a bit. She didn't really care what he called her, but it made her feel a little better to correct him like he was so fond of correcting her.
He nodded. "Very well, Hermione."
Oh, nope. She'd spoken too soon. She did care what he called her, because the way her given name sounded in his mouth made her want to throw her parchments up in a cloud of distraction as she ran screaming down the hallway.
Lucius half-turned. "I'll be glad to walk you towards the Floo as we speak." He waited for her to fall in line alongside him. "Narcissa and I have sensed that things have gone awry between you and Draco."
So Draco hadn't told them anything. Hermione felt a hint of relief; she couldn't imagine that Lucius would take the news of her rape-whistle-pod any better than Draco did. And Narcissa might faint, or something. "We're fighting," she agreed, in a mutter.
"Indeed." He slanted her a look, and then she realized that Draco might have told him. It was impossible to tell what Lucius was thinking. "Narcissa's event tomorrow is an informal gathering. She knows you do not have alternative plans." Hermione winced. "Why did you decline?"
"I... Well, I didn't think your son would much want me there."
"We have raised Draco well. You do not need to worry about him making a scene," he assured her.
Hermione blinked, huffing a soft laugh. "I'm not worried about him making a scene," she said. She was worried about having to face him. And she was very worried that when she did, he would look at her coldly and then proceed to ignore her.
"I see," Lucius said, and Hermione was afraid for a moment that he really did see. She felt her face grow hot. "Well, perhaps something will happen that will change your mind on the matter."
She looked at him sharply. "What? Why? What did you do?" she demanded.
"Do, Hermione? What could I possibly do to alter your stubborn nature?" he asked, and the innocence in his tone was like a big sign declaring Yes, I've done something sinister and you will be going to that party whether you like it or not.
She stared at him, her eyes narrowed. "What did you do?" she repeated, gritting each word out. Because she knew he'd done something.
Instead of answering, he stopped before an available Floo, and said, "I will see you tomorrow, Hermione." Then he was walking away, leaving her staring after him in front of the damn Floo like an idiot. It wasn't until someone hissed at her to move along that she finally grabbed the powder, heading to Harry's, her mind awhirl.
Just what was Lucius up to?
0o0o0o0o0o0
She didn't have to wait too long to find out.
"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny squealed. "You won't believe it! You know Narcissa's parties? Well, guess who got invited?" She flapped the invitation around. "Yes! Fancy dress-up!"
Harry was holding his own invitation, as was Ron.
"We get to bring someone," Ron said. Even he didn't look disgusted by the idea of going to a Malfoy party. "I'm going to ask Susan if she's doing anything tomorrow."
Hermione stared at him. "Since when do you want to go to the Manor, Ron?"
He looked a bit guilty, and glanced between her and the invitation. "Since... I got an invitation inviting me to a soiree there along with all of my friends?" he tried. "You and Harry got to go last time, and he said the food was amazing. I want to see."
"Do you always think with your stomach?"
"I guess I can take Brandy," Ginny said, referring to one of her teammates on the Harpies. "Harry, you take Hermione if she doesn't have an invite already. No, wait, you probably do, don't you?"
"I already said no," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms.
They all shared a look. They nodded sagely to each other, and Ginny took the lead. "Hermione, don't you think this little snit has gone on long enough? You've been an absolute wreck, and a snotty one, too. You should try to talk to him."
"I did, and he refused to meet me!"
"Well, maybe his parents are forcing him to talk to you like we're forcing you to talk to him," Harry suggested, brightly.
Hermione took a step backwards, towards the Floo. "You're not forcing me to do anything."
"Grab her, she's running!" Ron shouted, and Hermione shrieked and turned towards the fireplace before she was tackled by three full-grown adults.
She made a pained noise from the floor as they gathered her up. "You trolls," she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. "You could have squished me flat, you know, or broken my ribs, or given me a concussion-!"
"Ginny, you go get a change of clothes from her flat. We'll have to hold her hostage here," Harry said, grimly.
Ginny smiled and grabbed some Floo powder.
"I'm not staying here so you can kidnap me to some ruddy party," Hermione said, fighting furiously against Ron as he wrapped her in a bear hug. She kicked his shin, and was gratified to hear him grunt in pain. "Ronald Weasley, you have three seconds to release me before I turn you into a castrato."
"She's bluffing," Harry said, pointing at Ron. "Don't you dare let her go."
"I really don't want to be a castrato, mate," Ron stage-whispered over her head as he struggled to keep her still. Hermione was squirming like a sack full of kittens.
Harry grabbed her wand, as Hermione shrieked in outrage. "This, I'm hiding, because you're a danger to yourself and others," he said, primly, and turned to walk upstairs with it.
"Harry James Potter, you return here this instant with my wand!"
He ignored her, and disappeared around the hallway, heading to one of the several rooms there.
0o0o0o0o0o0
By the time Ginny returned, Ron was sitting on the couch with his arms wrapped around a sullen Hermione, who had fought voraciously for about ten minutes before she tuckered herself out. Harry was sitting in the recliner, reading the Prophet like nothing odd was happening on the couch opposite.
Ginny paused just outside the Floo, taking in the scene before her. "I do so love these family moments," she said, with a dreamy smile on her face. "Now, if James and Albus were here instead of with their Aunt Tonks, this would truly be something worth capturing in a photograph."
"I'm planning all of your murders," Hermione promised, from Ron's lap.
"Perfect family gathering," Ginny sighed, happily. She dropped a shopping bag near Ron's feet. "I got some clothes, including a gorgeous dress that I assume Narcissa Malfoy picked out."
"What a rude thing to say. How do you know I didn't pick it out?" Hermione demanded, earning several incredulous looks. She reddened under the scrutiny, and growled, renewing her struggles against Ron's arms for a moment. "Alright, I get it, I dress like a bloody urchin!"
"Anyway, we'll have to cut ourselves off from the outside world." She closed the Floo, murmuring an enchantment that only she could lift. "Harry, I assume you nicked her wand."
"Hidden upstairs," he said, not taking his eyes off the newspaper.
"Good." She walked over to the front door and locked and warded it, as well. "Ron, you can still Apparate out, when you need to go home. You can also let her go," she added, as she charmed all the windows shut.
As soon as she was freed, Hermione stood and turned, smacking Ron about the shoulder and head repeatedly as he cowered and screamed for help. "You are a traitor, Ron Weasley."
"Nobody help all at once!" Ron bellowed at Harry and Ginny, holding up his arms to shield his face.
"Oh!" Ginny gasped. "I forgot about my roast." She turned and darted into the kitchen.
"Unbelievable!" Ron yelled after her.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Hermione's rampage had managed to slow to a stop by the time Ginny had dinner out, and now she was just sulking at the dining table and poking at her potatoes.
"Eat," Ron ordered, through a mouthful of food. "What's wrong with you? This is great."
"Maybe you're putting her off her appetite by chewing with your mouth open," Ginny said, glaring at him. "Not to mention talking with your mouth full. I know my appetite is suffering."
"Impossible," Harry muttered. Ginny ate like a prepubescent boy.
Ginny cut him a glare. "What's that?" she asked, sharply.
"I love you," Harry said, grinning at her winningly.
"Thought so," she murmured, spooning some peas into her mouth. When she'd swallowed, she added, "Hermione, stop acting like it's the end of the world to go to a party. So it might be awkward for a few moments. I'm sure he'll fondly remember your snogging-"
"I'm eating, here," Ron cut in, pulling a face.
"And pull you into his arms like an old movie."
Hermione sighed, shoving a piece of potato in her mouth. It was delicious, damn her. "No. You didn't see his face that night after he realized what I had. And why I had it. He was absolutely furious."
"He'll get over it. It's not like he has a choice, you have to get married. There's no backing out, now."
"Getting married isn't the same as being happily married," Hermione grumbled.
Ron glanced at her. "Well, to be fair, did you really ever expect to be happily married with Malfoy?"
She hesitated. "No. But I thought at least it didn't have to be awful. We were getting along."
"And you still will," Ginny assured her. "It's just one little screw-up. You're allowed to have at least one little screw-up. The good thing about this is, it's not like he can break up with you. You'll have to talk it out. Eventually. He's stuck with you."
"Well, that makes me feel just divine, thank you," Hermione snapped, scowling.
Ginny made a tsking noise. "You know what I mean."
"You know, she's right," Harry said, softly. "And the longer you wait before talking it over, the worse it'll be."
"I tried to talk it over, and he refused to meet," she reminded him, defensively.
"How many times did you try?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing a bit.
"I owled him!"
"Once?" Harry guessed. When Hermione just stared at him, he sighed and shook his head. "You know, when he made you mad, he followed you to work and then he waited at your flat for you. He didn't just send you a single owl."
"You're defending him, now?"
"I'm just pointing that out," Harry said, with an inelegant shrug.
Ron glanced at her, and swallowed before speaking, this time. "He's not... wrong," Ron said, awkwardly, earning an incredulous glare from his ex-girlfriend. He flushed. "I mean, you did sort of have the habit of... Well, when we fought, you did kind of avoid having to apologize. Are you sure that's not what you're doing with him, now?"
"I was going to apologize!" she said, hotly.
"Yes, but then you gave up pretty much immediately. You do that, sometimes, when you know you're wrong. You'll try just the once and then give up, chalking it up to me being unreasonable so you don't have to actually say you're sorry."
"That's not true."
But Ginny and Harry were nodding.
Hermione's mouth fell open as she regarded her friends, feeling a little betrayed. "Does everyone at this table think I'm just a horrible person?"
Harry laughed. "Of course not! You just hate being wrong so much that sometimes..."
"You don't make amends properly," Ginny finished. She noticed Hermione's hurt expression, and hurried to add, "It doesn't mean you're not a great person, Hermione. I mean, Ron chews with his mouth open and I still love him. Harry gets in these awful moods for no reason like he's suffering from PMS-"
"Hey!" Harry protested.
"And Ginny's a nosy little gossip," Ron added.
Ginny glared at him. "Thank you. Anyway, we all have our faults, Hermione. It doesn't make you a horrible person. But if you're able to recognize those faults, you should work on trying to improve them, right? I'm not half as bad a gossip as I was when I was in school."
Ron snorted indelicately, and Ginny picked up a roll and threw it at his face. It bounced off of his stunned expression and he froze there for a moment before picking up a spoonful of peas and aiming them at her like a catapult.
"No!" Harry ordered, pulling out his wand. "I'm calling an immediate ceasefire before you idiots make a mess of my kitchen. Put it down, Ron, or so help me."
Ron glared at Ginny as he slowly put his spoon down.
A snort broke through the tension, and everyone looked at Hermione as she burst into laughter. Slowly, they all joined in, a feeling of relief sweeping through the room. As Hermione's chortles calmed, she said, fondly, "I love you all."
0o0o0o0o0o0
The rest of the evening was delightful. They played games, argued over the rules of said games, and talked until the early morning. She couldn't remember feeling this carefree or staying up this late with her friends since... well, since before James was born. When they'd all been a few years younger, they'd always been night-owls, staying up until the wee hours talking and drinking.
Then Ginny had given birth to a glowing baby boy, and all of that just came to an abrupt halt. Hermione hadn't minded, and she fully understood, but she hadn't realized until just then how much she missed it.
Ron left around three in the morning, yawning widely, and they all trucked off to bed. The next morning, the smell of cooking bacon woke her, and she slumped downstairs in her pajamas, hiding a yawn with her hand. "That smells heavenly," she cooed to Harry, who was working over the stove. The general rule of the house was that while Ginny generally handled dinner, it was Harry who did breakfast. "Gin still asleep?"
"Of course. It'll take a stinging hex to get her out of bed on a Saturday with no children," he laughed. "How many rashers?"
"Three," she sighed, stretching a bit. "Is that pancakes, also?"
"Blueberry."
"Wonderful," she said, in a dreamy tone. He gave her her plate and made one of his own. She realized it was already a little after eight in the morning – but then, given the time they went to bed, that was still fairly early. Harry had become quite the early bird since starting his Auror training.
They ate in contented silence, listening to the birds chirp outside.
0o0o0o0o0o0
"Ow! Ginny, stop, give me a second," she complained. Ginny was currently tweezing her eyebrows. Hermione did that already, generally speaking, although Ginny had suddenly decided that her shape was 'all wrong' and it would have to be refined by Ginny's careful hands.
"Don't be a baby. You've never shaped these. You just pull out the strays, don't you?" she accused.
"What's wrong with their shape?"
"Oh, Merlin, Hermione, you are an absolute mess."
After the tweezing, they'd had themselves a little 'spa-day' afternoon, alternating between soaking in the bath and getting their legs silky smooth. Harry had ended up leaving to meet Ron for a late lunch, insisting that the flowery smells was choking him and he was liable to start changing genders if he had to stay in that environment for one moment longer.
He was back in time to start getting dressed. When he heard Ginny and Hermione arguing over the dress Ginny had picked out, he snuck past Hermione's room, hoping to not be called in for his opinion.
"Harry!" He flinched. Damn it. "Harry, come in here and tell Hermione she looks fine."
"It's too revealing," Hermione whined, as Harry pushed the door open. The dress was a deep burgundy, and dipped far below Hermione's usual stopping point at the collar, revealing a lot more cleavage than he was used to seeing from his friend. She was trying to tug it up a bit to better cover herself, and Ginny slapped her hands away.
The dress had off-the-shoulder sleeves, more like a wide band, really. It fell all the way to the floor, but a slit up the side bared her leg past the knee.
"It's not too revealing. Harry," Ginny said, leveling a glare on him that made it clear that he was to agree with his wife and not say anything stupid.
"It looks lovely, Hermione."
"You're just saying that because Ginny's here," Hermione said, frowning at him through the reflection. Ginny had already done her make-up, keeping it understated (probably by Hermione's insistence), and she'd already applied the charm to her hair before putting it up in a messy chignon. Curls broke free of it, curling around her neck and face a bit.
"No, honestly. You look beautiful."
She looked faintly mollified, staring at her reflection. "Alright," she sighed. "I suppose it's too late to change, anyway."
"Wonderful. I'm going to slip into my dress, and you, don't touch any of the magic I did on you," Ginny warned her, before slipping out of the room, pulling Harry along with her.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Ron met them at 12 Grimmauld Place with Susan, who was positively beaming with delight. The Malfoys had a certain reputation for parties, after all.
Hermione had to be calmed and coaxed again before stepping into the Floo, but finally, they managed to pull her through.
They spilled into a small room, with the French doors opening to the outside. In the expansive gardens, people teemed and milled, chatting with each other. Fairy lights danced above like swirling stars, and the place had been charmed to sort of resemble what Hermione had always imagined the land of fairy would look like.
"Cor," Ron breathed. "Look at this food."
He was already at the refreshments table, staring in lovestruck awe at the expanse of food. Susan was smiling, and followed him as he began piling up his plate, moving down the table and then onto the next table. Ginny rolled her eyes, and turned to Harry. "If there's dancing, you're dancing with me."
Harry issued a long-suffering groan, and let himself be pulled off in search of a dance floor.
Leaving Hermione alone.
TBC...