CHAPTER TWELVE: UNMASKING ONE'S DESTINY

Diagon Alley - London, England

July 1, 1815 (Saturday late afternoon-evening)

After taking a private moment behind the curtain to refresh herself (Aurora's wand cleaned up the tears from her face, and they readjusted her mask as appropriate), Hermione and her winning bidder settled the matter of the transfer of monies for her final auction price with a series of easy signatures, overseen and notarized by the Gringotts goblins in attendance. She was then able to close out all accounts due to La Cerise (including paying for her room and board, private lessons and accessories required by the auction, as well as Aurora's private cut), and finalize the termination of her contract with the House, effective tomorrow at three, when she would officially move out.

The issue of purchasing out her marriage agreement with the Potters was discussed with Harry then, and it was her Dragon who realized (with a quick perusal of the contract, which Harry furnished from an inside coat pocket), that its termination required the transfer of the dowry amount (plus one extra galleon for good measure) to be in person. It was therefore decided that she would commit to breaking the bond (with bank draft in hand, in the total amount due – 100,001 galleons) on Monday afternoon as she and her best childhood friend attended both sets of parents at the Potters' home for high tea. There was a verbal agreement between them, however (witnessed by Aurora and her Dragon, and shook on in the manner of a business transaction), that her engagement to Harry James Potter was formally dissolved as of that moment, much to everyone's relief.

That done, Harry kissed her formally goodbye on the cheek, wishing her much happiness and promising to arrange all of the details for their meeting on Monday. He even, much to Hermione's great pleasure, acknowledged the man who had won her affections by reaching out a hand, congratulating him. It was clear from the exchange that Harry was wary of her Dragon, and he of her former fiancée (the reason of which she was still unclear about, but was determined to find out at a later date), but it was a progressive step in the right direction, as far as she was concerned.

The goblins and Harry took their leave of the couple then, and the moment Hermione had been waiting for was finally upon them: Aurora made their formal introductions.

"My Princess, it gives me the greatest pleasure to reveal to you the identity of your winning bidder," the House Mother waved to the Dragon, who was reaching up to remove his mask. "Monsieur Dragon is none other than The Right Honorable, Draco Malfoy, heir to the Barony of Swindon."

The black mask with the silver tear dropped away…

Hermione's heart stuck in her throat. He was strikingly handsome, with perfectly aligned features, a strong jaw and brow, tempting lips lined by a very light gold stubble, all set in a fine, aristocratic mold. His eyes, always a bit shadowed by the mask, were now revealed to be a magnificent shade of arctic grey; they fairly sparkled as he brushed his long, platinum bangs aside. And those lashes – golden, thick fringe that framed expressive depths. Monsieur Malfoy was the epitome of the Renaissance man.

His lips twitched in amusement at her reaction. "Am I so different to you now that a title is involved?" he asked, bowing politely and taking her hand to his mouth to place a reverent kiss to the tips.

Unaccustomed to the swell of emotion building within her breast, she blurted the first thought that came to mind. "You're so handsome!"

His chuckle was low, sensual. "Ah, so it is my physical mien that has your tongue in a knot, not the Barony."

She blinked, her random thoughts tumbling from her lips without censor. "Your given name… the Dragon constellation. It was so obvious, a child should have guessed!"

He and Aurora shared an amused grin. "It seems she is still processing."

Madame Sinistra nodded. "Yes, but perhaps it is you who should prepare yourself best, my Lord, when I tell you whose hand you are now so fondly, casually caressing." She turned a mysterious smile on Hermione, her eyes positively gleaming with mischief. "My dear, before our contract was secured months back, I took the liberty of having your lineage traced, as your wizarding blood status was clearly deficient for the rules of this House, and I was required by the demands of my position to devise a reason for allowing you entrance to La Cerise's rolls."

"Deficient?" Draco asked, stepping closer, protectively. "In what way could such a marvelous woman be found wanting?"

"To be blunt, Monsieur, The Princess is not of pureblood stock," the Abbess explained. "She is, in fact, Muggle-born."

There was the slightest stiffening in her suitor's shoulders and in his grip upon her hand that had Hermione slightly concerned. "I see," he carefully stated, seemed to consider the situation but a second more, and then markedly relaxed. "It comes as a shock, yes, but makes no difference to me overall." He looked down upon her, his face set with determination. "I will have you for wife, if you will, my lovely. You are all I have ever wished for in a woman."

Swallowing her relief, Hermione gave him a reassuring smile.

"Wonderful," Aurora cheered. "Then, her status amongst royalty will mean very little to you as well, Monsieur, and you may enter this arrangement with mutual love and understanding."

Hermione's internal harmony was instantaneously disrupted. "R-royal status? Me?" she asked in disbelief, stammering over the idea like a simpleton. Her patron nodded, her demeanor conveying that she was quite convinced of the fact. "No, no, no. I am sorry to contest such a wonderful fancy, Madame," she contended, "but there seems to be a mistake. I am not of such splendid or lofty heritage. My parents are simple, honest tooth chirurgeons living in Surrey."

Aurora shook her head rather decisively. "There is no mistake in this, my dear. My investigative efforts have exposed a truth hidden from you, and your father, and even your father's father: it seems that you are the last surviving descendant of the Archduchess Maria Anna Eleanor Wilhelmina Josepha of Austria and Prince Charles Alexander of Lorraine. Their child, rumored to have been a stillbirth, was, in fact, born healthy and secreted far away - here to England - to keep him safe from Prussian assassins during The War of the Austrian Succession. You are the direct descendant of that male heir, hailing from the House of Hapsburg directly, as your great-grandmother was the youngest sister of the Empress Maria Teresa." She turned to Draco and made a deep curtsy to both of them. "Therefore, my Lord, it is my paramount honor to present to you Her Imperial and Royal Highness, Hermione Jean Granger, Archduchess of Austria, Princess of Hungary, Princess of Lorraine, and Governess of the Austrian Netherlands - unrecognized as such, technically, but still her rightful entitlements by birth."

The young Swindon's eyes widened and his jaw literally dropped open as he turned with sincere astonishment to Hermione for confirmation… right in time to catch her as she swooned, falling into unconsciousness like a ridiculous ninny.

X~~~~~X

"A mistake…" she murmured, coming out of her faint, her eyelids blinking in confusion. Draco continued to support his witch's weight carefully upon his lap while Madame fanned her charge, hoping the air current would aid in her quicker recovery. "Draco…"

"I'm here, my love," he reassured her, heart palpitating wildly at her use of his given name for the first time, while simultaneously, a chivalrous streak of protectiveness overcame him at the weakness heard in her voice. "I've got you. You're safe. You collapsed but for a moment."

A petite hand slowly reached up and stroked his cheek as she focused upon him. "I knew… I knew you would be beautiful inside and out."

Turning his head, he placed a tender kiss upon her palm, her words making his belly flutter. "Are you better? Do you need water?"

Full consciousness returned the light to those pretty, earthen-colored eyes, and her mouth formed a perfectly-shaped, "Oh!" as the last few minutes flooded back into memory. "Merlin, I've embarrassed myself… and inconvenienced you! Many apologies, my Lord." She struggled to right herself.

Draco held on tighter to keep her from squirming out of his lap, an arrow sharply piercing his chest at her sudden, distant reserve. "Have we reverted to formalities, then, Miss Granger?"

"Her Ladyship," Aurora reminded him with a gentle chastisement. "At the very least."

His Princess shook her head. "Oh, no, no! Please do not call me such!" She shut her eyes and put a hand to her forehead, massaging gently. "Although I am genuinely thankful for all of your efforts in examining my past, Madame, I do not believe I am ready to open the discussion of royal entitlements – especially not without my parents present, for they have even greater right to the claims than I. And truthfully, the subject gives me a frightful headache. I would sooner tackle the issue of unraveling the ancient matchmaking spells upon the House before charting my lineage. For now, if you please, I am just 'Hermione.'"

Cradling her to him, Draco reached his free hand around her head and tugged on the ribbon that held her mask in place. "Then, I insist you refer to me as just 'Draco' henceforth. And, seeing as how we are now on familiar footing, my dear, I would see you, face-to-face at last." The bow gave way, and he slipped the butterfly-shaped, velvet fabric off her face, placing it with care upon the settee next to him. Cupping the bottom of her chin, he tilted her up to meet his gaze.

His heart fell out of him. She was positively breathtaking, more stunning than his wildest dreams. Her features were delicately romantic and in perfect proportion. He adored her thin brows, how they arched with curiosity, and her sooty, long lashes, and the apples of her cheeks that were rosy with a maidenly blush. He'd always been able to see her lips, but revealed now in conjunction with her eyes and bone structure, they were an ideal compliment, with their pink-red paint and their flawless bow shape – they were, bluntly, enticingly too kissable. Stroking a finger down the side of her jaw, he realized how very lucky he was to have won such a prize, for she was truly more magnificent than any woman he'd ever appreciated. "Beautiful," he proclaimed in an awed whisper. "So, so lovely…"

Claiming his lady's lips came naturally to Draco by now. When she met his enticements with equal tenderness, it was as if he had found his home at long last. The magical warmth of their special connection flooded through them both once again, abruptly stirring his loins. Of their own accord, his fingers trailed over her throat, tracing the neckline of her gown, teasing between her cleavage… A polite clearing of the throat from Aurora forced them both to realize that propriety was overtly being breached; such intensity was better left for the bedroom. "Apologies, beloved," he murmured, removing his hand and arranging them so they could regain their feet.

He held onto her a tad longer than was necessary as her tiny feet touched the floor to assure she fully had her balance, and then, reluctantly reaching for both of their masks, he passed hers off and replaced his, watching as she did likewise. There were still a few required, public customs to see to, after all.

She sighed heavily as the fabric covered her up and the ribbon was retied. "A little longer, Prin… Hermione," he reassured her with a quick kiss, offering her his arm. "Then there will never be a need for masks to come between us again."

X~~~~~X

The beautiful, hand-crafted fondant tea cakes were a smashing success, Aurora thought with some measure of smugness, as she took in the measure of the room enjoying them. Everyone seemed in goodly spirits, including the losers of the auction, all of whom stood about in conversation. Even Jeremy Stretton – the most reserved and quiet suitor she'd known in all her years in service – was in spirited dialogue with Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger regarding future business opportunities. The champagne flowed freely, and toasts were presented here and there amongst gathered groups. It was a jolly time for all, much to her innate relief.

There was a flash of light, and Pyg appeared at her side in human form. Her fondness for the little Puffskein since their introduction (in this form, that was to say) had grown proportionally, and in such a short amount of time. She wondered if she wasn't being influenced by his magic in some manner… Whatever the reason for her fondness of him, she found herself easily smiling down upon him now. "Would you like some cake?" she offered, directing him to the dessert table. "It contains a layer of chocolate – your favorite flavor, I'm told by your Mistress."

Those sparkling grey eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, please!"

The child eagerly gobbled up the dessert she presented, his hair turning red, then orange. A strange purring could be heard emanating from his chest, and he smiled brilliantly like a cat contentedly fattened on too much cream as he finished off the last crumb on his plate. It was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen and heard, quite honestly. "Thank you, Madame," he beamed, as she took his dirties from him and passed them off to a member of the wait staff. "It was delicious!" He threw himself against her and hugged her tight around the middle, his little ear pressed to her tummy. "I love chocolate!"

With a bird-like laugh, she instinctively hugged the little boy to her as if he were her own. He was certainly quite the charmer, wasn't he?

Their cozy moment came to an abrupt end a moment later when he stiffened, his ear pressing tighter into her abdomen, as if he were listening for something within her bowels. "OH!" he moved away quite suddenly, as if astonished by some new discovery about her person, his hair instantly changing color to pink. "Oh." Hesitantly, his little hand moved to touch the spot he'd just been leaning against and he closed his eyes, as if he were magically attempting to feel about her internals like a medi-witch would with a wand. For several long seconds they lingered thus, and in that time, his hair changed color several more times – blue, red, and finally white.

Aurora, curious as to discover what exactly the little creature was doing, remained silent and alert, atypically uncaring of their current surroundings and the social awkwardness she found herself in. Truthfully, she was slightly worried something might be wrong with her health by the way he had reacted, as her own mother had passed quite suddenly upon her forty-second year from a devouring disease of the womb. Was she to be similarly cursed?

When he opened those pretty-lashed eyes again, they were wide, beguiling in their innocence, and his hair changed back to its normal auburn-brunette. "Hmmm… Interesting. This means you're not a virgin," he stated rather knowledgeably.

Several people nearby stopped in their conversation and looked down at the little boy in utter surprise. Aurora could have died on the spot, honestly. Taking his hand off her body, she turned him about and, muttering an apology to her guests, led him to the other side of the long dessert table rather briskly. "Bébé," she whispered gently to him, "A person's private health status is never discussed in polite public."

The light of comprehension dawned in those unsophisticated, wintry depths. "This is one of those things Papa explained to me about earlier, isn't it? He said that the things a man and woman do together…" He looked around conspiratorially, and then leaned in and whispered, "…you know… is done in private. I take it talking about it is, too?"

Sagely, she nodded. "Oui, you are very wise for your lack of life experience, young one."

Hands clasped behind his back, he rocked onto the balls of his feet. "Yes, well... I am learning, Madame. Every minute of every day." His enigmatic smile suddenly looked rather grown-up. "Don't worry, my lady, you're as healthy as a… what's the phrase?... a horse. You don't look like one – funny animals, horses - but you definitely are as healthy as one!"

An immense weight lifted from her shoulders and she let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Thank you, bébé, but perhaps one day you will explain to me how you know such things?"

His attention turned to his adoptive parents just then and his smile softened. "Will they, too, go off now and do those private things that men and women in love do?"

Aurora nodded. "Yes, sweetling. It has ever been their destiny."

He was quiet a moment in contemplation, his smile dropping, and a hint of sadness marking his pretty features. "They'll make their own, real bébé from this, won't they?"

Smoothing her hands over his velvet blue jacket, she sighed. "Perhaps, but you will always be their first child – their most beloved – for you helped their bond to grow. You further helped them not to give up hope in the light of terrible tragedy. You will forever be in their hearts for such service."

To her surprise, he glanced down at his feet instead of meeting her gaze. "Was that my destiny: to serve them?"

"Perhaps."

"Do you think that I have a… a destiny where I serve myself?" he mumbled the query.

Kneeling down to his height, she cupped his chin and tilted his face to meet hers. "I think, bébé, we all live for each other in some small way. It is certainly our destiny as a society for our lives to become devotedly intertwined with others under the auspices of such noble ideals as love and friendship. However, I also believe that every individual person has a great fate to meet and fulfill, if they so choose to seek out such excellence and make it their own."

He looked upon her with desperate hope. "Even me? Even though I'm not a real person?"

"Sweetling, no matter the face you wear, you are as real as any of us. You love, you feel, you dream and think. Never doubt that you are deserving of this life you have been given," she reassured him. Making her full height again, she ruffled his hair affectionately. "You will find your own destiny, little one, should you wish to do so - and I predict it will be a romantic, grand one, indeed, for you are far too precocious for a life of dullness!"

The little creature bit his bottom lip, mulling over her words for half a minute more, and then he nodded. "You're right! I will make my own destiny!" He planted a fist mightily in the palm of his hand to punctuate his resolution. Looking up at her in curiosity a second later, he pointed a single finger up between them to interject his requirement for clarification on a purpose. "Just one question, though, if you please?"

Aurora raised an eyebrow and smiled in amusement at his sudden shifting of mood. Yes, this one was too optimistic and inquisitive to be held down for long. "And what is that, bébé?"

"I need to know," he tenaciously inquired, standing on his tiptoes and staring up at her with stormy intensity, "what's 'precocious' mean?"

X~~~~~X

Ginny shared her cake with her fiancée, having exchanged her fox-shaped mask in favor of a matching version of her beau's for this event. "Will you speak with her soon?" she hesitantly asked her lover.

Blaise nodded. With the events of the last week, he'd not had time to discuss the purchasing of her contract with the House Madame, but he promised to do so as soon as the auction was finished. "Now, in fact," he assured her with a kiss to the back of her hand. "I'll be back in a flash, darling, so you won't have to spend too long beating the men away."

Leaving her momentarily bereft of his warmth, he hurried to the Abbess' side across the room, nearing the catering table. Pyg, who had been standing near the two, meandered away, seemingly deep in thought, his hands behind his back, head bowed. The poor, little thing looked lost.

Feeling sorry for him, Ginny approached his side and offered to keep his company for the remainder of the night, enticing him with promises of card games and scary storytelling. Yes, it would cut in on her time with her amoureux, but in a way, being around a child would be good for Blaise… especially after what she'd just discovered this afternoon.

X~~~~~X

The moment had finally arrived for Hermione to say 'goodbye' to the men who had graced her with the gift of their affectionate attentions for the last month. In a ceremony straight out of some archaic Roman tradition, she presented each man a single, ripened pear, wrapped in 24 karat gold leaf and tied at the stem with a real pear blossom – the ancient symbol of eternal friendship (the ones for her absent suitors – Monsieurs Wolf and Knot – were to be delivered by the Madame later, along with a note of gratitude penned by her own hand).

With a prettily prepared speech, she thanked each man, pointing out the attribute that would leave the greatest impression upon her, deeply curtseying to each man in turn as she addressed them.

"To Gold, a man of impeccable mannerisms and astounding taste, whose adornments I will cherish with great fondness all my days."

"To Scots, a man of dashing excitement, who was able to accomplish the near impossible in piquing my interest in the world of Quidditch."

"To Vivi, whose musical talent touched my soul and made it weep, and showed me see the universe moving through the beauty of his violin."

"To Jer, whose exacting craftsmanship and quiet attention to detail have made me appreciative of the phrase, 'it is what is hidden underneath that counts the most.'"

To Argonaut, whose love for the classics gave me a new, healthy respect for my gender through the greatest examples in literary history – namely, the steadfast Eir, and the powerful Isis, and the indomitable Athena."

"To Bootsey, whose passion for life constantly reminds me that every moment is fleetingly precious, and it is important to embrace it fully, with all your heart."

"To Knot, who appears to have bowed out, I still would like to dedicate my thanks for his patient instructions in magic during our time together, for it was our discussions of Ancient Runes during one interview in particular some weeks back that aided me in a recent translation of some glyphs that changed my whole life."

"And finally, to Wolf, who is clearly no longer in the building…" Here she chuckled, and was joined by the gathering in understanding, "I would have the world know what he has done for me. Specifically, the sly Mister Wolf has taught me the value of myself, a lesson I will be forever grateful for learning."

She reached for the full champagne glass from Madame's waiting hand and raised it to the assembly. "To you all: may you have a long, happy life filled with splendid, abiding love and the profoundest of joy! Salute!"

"Salute!" the room erupted in boisterous wishes, and everyone drank up merrily, the party roaring back into life.

X~~~~~X

After wishing everyone goodnight, Hermione was led out of the room upon Draco's arm. They followed behind Aurora up the Grand Staircase, through the corridor where her private room was located, and up another flight of stairs to the third floor. There, she had been told by her keeper, was a single apartment, reserved for this specific occasion alone.

Aurora unlocked the door for them, offering Draco the only key. "There is dinner waiting for you, and a basket full of meats and cheeses and fruits, should you find you require another repast. If you have need of anything else, Dobby has been instructed to be at your beck and call. Pyg will be well entertained tonight, so you needn't worry about his safety or boredom."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you ever so much, Madame, for everything."

The House Mother waved her off. "One final note: should you require, the small table beside the bed contains a selection of... motivating delights... should your interests stray into the realm of curiosity." She smirked rather suggestively, and then turned away, heading back down the thickly carpeted stairwell. "Beaucoup de joie à vous!" she waved over her shoulder.

"Merci, belle déesse!" Draco replied in flawless French.

Alone at last in the quiet hall, Hermione suddenly found all of her courage traitorously desert her; it was hard to look up at her suitor, and in her chest, her heart beat furiously. She licked her lips as he opened the door for them, then turned and picked her up bridal style to carry her across the threshold. Kicking the door shut behind them, they stepped into their private suite for the night with no pause, making the moment finally real for her.

This was it. After tonight she would no longer be a virgin. Her Dragon - Draco - would initiate her into the world of full adulthood. Would it be a quick coupling, or would he take his time and seduce her thoroughly? She rather hoped it would be the latter, although she was concerned with their desperation for each other that it would most likely be the former.

X~~~~~X

His beloved's panic was palpable. Rigid of spine, a slight trembling in her limbs and a quickening breath all told him that he would have to ease her into this situation, instead of heading straight for the bed, as he'd hoped.

He glanced about the room, noting the small table and two-chair set-up in front of the magically-lit hearth. Upon it were two silver domed platters and full place settings, and next to it, an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne – already opened and breathing – waiting for them. It was a perfect opportunity to thaw the frigid atmosphere between them. "Fantastic," he sighed, crossing the distance to the dining set. "I'm famished. You?"

His Princess – Hermione, he crossly reminded himself – looked into his face with surprise. "Y…yes, as a matter of a fact, I am."

He tried to give her his best reassuring smile as he lowered her to her feet once more. "Away with these masks," he growled, and quickly undid hers, tossing it to the ground, followed by his own. When they were revealed to each other again, he good-humoredly grinned, letting his fingertips very lightly trace down the sides of her cheeks. "There she is – the woman of my heart. In truth, I wasn't sure you were the same person, for my lovely would never be timid. She who naughtily wears a green ribbon about her bosom and waist, and who gets me alone in a coat closet to take full advantage of my lecherous desires… no, she would never hide her face from me."

Her brilliant smile lit up her countenance. "You tease me."

"Every chance you allow," he cheekily replied, and placed a quick kiss upon her lips. "Now, shall we dine? I'm close to fainting with hunger."

Her laugh was musical and gay, warming his heart. "You would waste our precious time together by requiring me to play nurse and resuscitate you, I suppose?"

As she turned towards the table, he molded himself into the curves of her back and bent his mouth to her ear. "I would, if you would service me but completely… to assure my full recovery, of course."

"Oh, of course," she flippantly replied with a chuckle. "By the by, I have heard that smelling salts do the trick for men who find themselves… shall we say, in distress. Shall I conjure some to go along with our other selections of 'motivating delights' or do you think you could stay awake long enough to see this night through, Monsieur?"

Ever one to rise to a challenge, he gripped her hips and rubbed his growing erection boldly between the seam of her arse, sliding up it with slow efficiency at the same time as nipping her earlobe. Hermione's gasp was loud in the hushed room. "Although I will admit to some measure of good suffering, my lovely - caused primarily by the provocative swaying of your hips in this dress - does it feel as if I am having an emasculating crisis to you?"

Her breath shuddered on an exhale, and her hands moved to cover his. "I... I am not sure. You will need to demonstrate the measure of your health for me again."

Gods above, he adored that brassy mouth of hers! This was more like the woman he'd come to want – the passionate innocent, who could be reckless and naughty at the same time as naïve and sensual.

Letting his lips roam the shell of her ear, he breathed heavily, hotly against her flesh even as he allowed his pelvis to ride her backside once more. "I am finding my appetites… shifting… Hermione."

She shivered and nodded. "Mine, as well, I must admit."

Allowing his fingers to dance up her waist with slow precision, he traced the valleys and peaks of her bottom ribs, then the splendid curve under her breasts. "I want this to be special for us both," he murmured, placing small kisses along the long line of her neck. "I'll be slow and gentle. I promise."

His love turned her cheek into his. "I trust you, Draco." Catching the edge of his lips, she kissed him sweetly. "Make me yours at long last. Love me."

Turning her about, his heart skipping madly about under his ribs, he bent his mouth to hers to claim her indelibly as his own. "I do love you… for all eternity, my Princess."

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

"A devouring disease of the womb" = An early way that medical practitioners referred to what is now believed to have been uterine or cervical cancer. In this time (1800's), such things as women's reproductive health were not very well understood, and modern medicine was still very much in its infancy, so these types of illnesses were typically lumped under such a phrase in journals to explain away the cause of death that inevitably accompanied such diseases.

"Salute!" = French for "cheers!" (the wishing to others during a toast).

"Beaucoup de joie à vous!" = French for "Much joy to you!" (an old medieval blessing in France).

"Merci, belle déesse!" = French for "Thank you, beautiful goddess!"