Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Thank you and massive hugs to my wonderful friend, ravenclaw-sass who went over this chapter with a fine-tooth comb. If it wasn't for her, there would have been a massive plot hole – oops!
Hermione awoke the next morning with the paradoxical feelings of both deep satisfaction and dull pain. The pain was concentrated between her legs, and she had not even opened her eyes - or gained full consciousness - before memories of the previous night flooded her mind. She smiled into a silk pillowcase, one that was not her own, and hummed softly in contentment. As she rolled over her eyelids fluttered, her vision cloudy as she forced them open against the sunlight streaming in from the window.
Blurred colours of green and grey swam before her and she blinked repeatedly until she could make out the flat expanse of the other side of the bed. She frowned. Where was Draco? She inched her left palm towards the abandoned half of the mattress; lukewarm. Her forehead wrinkled as her eyebrows knitted closer together. He had left recently, then...but why?
Her mind began to race as if trying to make up for time lost in the bliss of post-coital sleep. Had something happened to Narcissa? Did he regret last night?Or maybe, a hopeful voice sounded in the back of her mind, he's just making breakfast?
Hermione tossed back the sheets and scrambled to find her clothes. She located them scattered about the room and she jumped as she tugged her jeans to her waist, bouncing towards the door and throwing it open before she had a chance to button her pants. On the way to the kitchen she fixed her appearance as best she she entered the vast room she was instantly relieved to note the blond standing over the stove. The fact that he was shirtless only served to improve her mood.
"Hey," she greeted him, walking slowly towards him and stopping a few feet away.
"Hi." He smirked as he turned, his gaze raking her up and down. "I didn't want to wake you." He gestured towards the stove, indicating the pancakes cooking in a frypan.
Hermione smiled. "I was worried when I woke up alone." Her cheeks heated at the admission, and as Draco's smirk slid from his face to be replaced by a look of concern, Hermione wished she had not opened her mouth. Despite being over Ron, years of putting up with an unfaithful partner had ingrained some unfortunate thinking habits into her brain. When she had woken up without Draco by her side, she was ashamed to admit that her first thought had been that he regretted last night, and had disappeared to prepare himself to let her down. It seemed silly now, she reasoned, as his heated gaze settled on her face, and she felt the tightness in her chest fade slightly.
"Why?" he asked, taking a step forward.
Hermione offered him a half-hearted shrug and a quirk of her lips. Draco seemed to have picked up the thread of her thoughts, however, and he closed the gap between them, his arms winding around her waist. She leaned in to him happily, allowing him to press her against the wooden bench as he ducked his head and kissed her soundly. Hermione held him to her, kissing him back with equal fervor.
His growl rumbled through his chest and Hermione barely registered the wandless spell he cast on the stove to ensure the pancakes would not burn, because in the next movement he lifted her onto the bench and settled himself between her legs.
She was lost in all that was Draco; the feel of his lips, his tongue, his hands as they roamed freely over her body, possessing her and revering her, kneading and soothing. His fingertips grazed the underside of her breast, tracing patterns beneath her shirt, and she shivered as he grasped the hem, moving back slightly so he could remove it.
"Blaise!" Draco dropped the fabric as if it had burned him and took a step backwards, leaving Hermione feeling suddenly cold and entirely bewildered. "What the fuck? How long have you been standing there?" He pointed an accusatory finger over Hermione's shoulder.
Wincing, Hermione turned, though the view of the smug Italian wizard lounging against the entry to the kitchen did not come as a shock. He smirked at the pair of them as he pushed away from the wall and stepped into the kitchen. "Long enough," he said haughtily, looking between them. "Who do I have to shag —" he enunciated the word delicately and Hermione bit back a groan "— around here to get breakfast?"
Draco's eyes flashed dangerously, though Hermione knew he wasn't so much angry with Blaise as he was annoyed that he had interrupted them. "What do you want?"
"Breakfast," Blaise answered slowly, drawing out the word as if he was trying to teach a young child to speak properly. "I'm hungry," he added with a shrug and a wicked grin.
"Of course you are," Draco grumbled, stomping back to the stove. "You might as well sit down," he huffed over his shoulder after a moment of silent warring with himself. "I've lost my real appetite."
Hermione suppressed a chuckle, though she was still highly embarrassed that Blaise had caught them in such a position. She slid off the counter without looking at him and took her seat at the breakfast bar, leaving a stool between her and the dark-haired wizard so that Draco could sit in the middle.
Draco didn't seem too pleased with the arrangement, however. He sneered as he took his place after setting the pile of steaming pancakes in front of them. With a wave of his wand, plates appeared and without saying a word, he gestured for Hermione to serve herself first.
It wasn't the morning she had envisioned - neither when she had woken, nor when she had arrived in the kitchen to find that everything was okay between her and Draco. Blaise seemed oblivious to the awkwardness and immediately launched into a blow by blow description of his evening, with in-depth detail into some fiery redhead's behaviour on the dance floor.
"Gross," Draco said, wrinkling his nose. "I'm trying to eat."
Blaise chuckled and neatly cut off a small piece of pancake before bringing it to his lips. "It sounds like I wasn't the only one having some fun though, eh?" He knocked Draco's shoulder playfully, and the blond stiffened.
"It's none of your business, Zabini." His tone was harsh and Hermione glanced up, concerned that she had somehow, inadvertently, created a rift between the two best friends.
The intense atmosphere remained for a few more agonising seconds, but then Blaise threw his head back and laughed. "I respect that," he said, stabbing another piece of pancake.
From then on, breakfast was a mostly enjoyable affair, until—
"Listen," Blaise said after he had dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "I think it's time I returned to Italy. My goal is still to move back to England —" he held up his hand to stop Hermione from interrupting "— but I've done all I can here in the way of establishing and promoting my business. I need to tie up the loose ends."
Hermione was surprised at the sudden heavy feeling in her stomach. Gently, she placed her cutlery on her plate and pushed it away from her; her appetite had mysteriously disappeared. She had not stopped to consider her relationship with Blaise Zabini - not really. She classified him as a friend, but she had not realised until now - now that he was telling her he was leaving - just how important he had become to her.
"When will you be back?" she asked, cutting Draco off before he could ask the same question.
"I don't know." Blaise smiled sadly. "Hopefully soon/ Maybe by Christmas."
Hermione nodded. Logically, she knew that it wasn't that far away. Unfortunately, that logic didn't extend into her chest.
Draco cleared his throat and Hermione was grateful for the sound as it forced her back into the present. "When will you leave?"
"A few days." Blaise turned to Draco, his previously softened expression vanishing to be replaced with a friendly but emotionless facade. Ever the Slytherin. "I need to hand over to my new Vice in London and ensure my assistant won't keel over and die while I'm away…" The corner of his lips quirked into a half-smile.
Draco nodded. "Okay," he said simply, and then returned to his pancakes as if nothing had happened.
If Hermione had not known better she would have thought that Blaise's announcement had not affected the blond wizard in the slightest, but as he sat on the stool, his back rigid and muscles taut beneath the twinkling of the torches hanging above their heads, it was clear from Draco's posture that the news had rattled him. She knew it would do no good to point this out, however, so when Blaise stood suddenly and marched from the room without saying anything further, Hermione simply placed her hand on Draco's leg and squeezed.
Draco was pacing, his hands tucked behind his back as he frowned down at the carpet. Hermione had left just an hour ago, and he was surprised at how much he already missed her - but that was not the reason for his deep contemplation. Blaise's news had hit him harder than he had anticipated. He would never admit it aloud - not even to himself - but he loved his mate dearly, and though he had often wished he would return to Italy during his house arrest, the thought of the Manor without Blaise in it was not as welcome as it would have been two months ago.
He came to a stop in front of the window and sighed, watching the rain beat steadily down on to the Manor gardens. His study was his place of refuge, a place he could enjoy solitude and peace to think and analyse and reflect...He had spent many a night in this room trying to figure out how he was going to save his mother, how he was going to deal with having Hermione Granger as a case manager...and what to do about the feelings he had inadvertently acquired for the talented, feisty witch.
A reluctant smile curved at his mouth; thoughts of Blaise and what his return to Italy would mean for Draco vanished as Hermione's face swam into his mind. Last night had been amazing, and he was shocked at how ready he felt for her to stay over again. She was easy to be around, something that also came as a surprise; who would have thought the Gryffindor bookworm would turn out to be the best thing to ever happen to him?
Two sharp knocks sounded at the door, but before Draco could pull himself completely from his reverie, the door swung open and Lucius stepped over the threshold.
"Thought I'd find you here," his father said by way of greeting. "I hope that silly smile is due to the fact you will be signing your contract with Miss Greengrass in a week."
Any semblance of positive feeling vanished with those words and Draco's expression fell quickly into a sneer. "I'm not interested," he said flatly.
"That's not the point," Lucius said, his eyes narrowing as he kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot. "The future of the Malfoy name lies in your hands and I will not have you undo the centuries of purity all for a lowly —"
"Don't —" Draco grit his teeth, his hands balling into fists at his sides "— finish that sentence."
Lucius smirked. "Miss Granger is fun, Draco, and should you wish to keep her as your mistress after your marriage and production of an heir, then I will allow it." He pointed a gloved finger at Draco and met his gaze with a hard glare. "But not until then."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I will not marry Astoria; nor will I marry anyone you force under my nose. I will marry when I am ready, and I will marry whom I want to spend the rest of my life with. Regardless of blood status. I very much doubt I could do any more damage to the Malfoy name than you've already done."
Lucius moved quickly, but the years in Azkaban had weakened him considerably. It was this, and the fact that Draco had anticipated his reaction, that enabled the younger Malfoy to prevent from being slapped across the face. He caught his father's wrist in his fist and squeezed as hard as he could.
"We have guests," Lucius hissed before wrenching his arm from his grip and stalking from the room. Draco did not miss the way his father rotated his opposite hand around the arm he had caught, and a hot surge of morbid pleasure coursed through his chest. After all the years Lucius had physically bullied Draco, it felt wonderful to finally repay the favour.
In the sitting room, Draco found a small gathering of people seated around the coffee table, which was laden with tea and tiny pastries. Miksy bustled around the perimeter of the group, inconspicuously filling tea cups and serving biscuits to people who did not acknowledge her existence.
"Ah, Draco!" Lucius announced in a formal voice. It had been so long since Draco had lived with Lucius during a time when he would have cause for such a tone, and it grated his eardrums. "Come here and let me introduce you to Mister and Mrs Greengrass." His smile spread from ear to ear, ever the gracious host, but his eyes were cold.
Mutely, Draco moved further into the room - unwilling to be impolite - and obediently shook hands with the tall, slim woman with iron-grey hair pulled into an elegant knot at the back of her head, and the equally wiry man in an ill-fitting suit.
"How do you do?" he murmured.
"And of course, you know Astoria." Lucius gestured to his left with a small smirk.
Draco did know Astoria - by name. He had been in her sister's year at Hogwarts, though he had never had much to do with Daphne either. He knew the elder sister had been friends with Tracey Davis. Pansy didn't associate with them much, preferring the company of Draco and his cronies, and sometimes Blaise. He, of course, was aware of Blaise's less-than-esteemable relationship with the elder Greengrass, though the Italian had never gone into details, and Draco had never been interested enough to ask.
"Hello," the young witch said, allowing him to kiss the back of her hand.
He could not deny that Astoria was pretty. She had long blonde hair which curled effortlessly out towards her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were blue, and Draco imagined they would sparkle when she smiled, should she not currently be in such a miserable situation. It was clear from the way she briefly regarded him from beneath thick, dark eyelashes that she didn't want to be here any more than he did. His heart went out to her, and he offered her a small smile. She did not return it.
Draco settled himself across from the girl in the armchair Hermione used to sit in, and he could not help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth; if only his father knew.
"So, tell us about yourself, Draco," Mister Greengrass said, adjusting his trousers and leaning forward as if he could appraise his future son-in-law better from this angle. He frowned as he made eye contact with the blonde, and peered at him with clear brown eyes. Draco fought the urge to squirm.
What would you like to know? Draco wanted to ask. I was Marked by the most evil wizard of all time; drafted into a war for a cause I didn't want to believe in; spent the first five years of my adult life in prison for participating in said war, and now I'm being forced to marry someone I don't care about because my father is a raging psychopath.
"Actually," Astoria turned to her father with a tight smile. "I was hoping that he could give me a tour of the Manor."
Draco wasn't about the argue. Any excuse to get out of this stuffy situation was good enough for him. "Sure," he said, standing and extending his hand towards her. "Let me show you the library."
He was aware of three pairs of eyes on his back as Astoria took his arm, and he led her from the sitting room. Once they were out of sight, he dropped her arm and they walked in silence until he was sure they could not be overheard.
"I'm sorry," she said with a slight shake of her head. "I just couldn't stand it a minute longer."
"I take it you're not exactly thrilled with the arrangement?" Draco folded his arms across his chest and leant against the closed library door.
She shook her head and flashed him an apologetic smile. "No offence, but I don't want to marry you."
Draco chuckled. "No offence taken."
"Really?"
Draco arched an eyebrow. "Really." He felt that he could have left it there, but something compelled him to explain further. "I'm involved with someone else, and while it's still early days, marrying you would slightly complicate things in our relationship."
Astoria grinned. "Yes, it certainly would." She moved so that she was pressed against the door next to him, her posture mimicking his.
They stood there like that for a long while, enjoying a surprisingly comfortable silence. Draco allowed his eyes to close. He would have been happy to stay there for the rest of the visit if Blaise had not come barrelling down the stairs, interrupted them.
"Draco? Where are you?"
Draco pushed himself away from the door and his eyes snapped open. "Near the library," he called back, turning on the spot as he awaited the appearance of his friend. "Is Mother okay?"
"Yeah," Blaise said, rounding the corner. "She's fine, I just needed to —" He stopped as his gaze settled on Astoria, whose back was still leaning lazily against the door of the library. "Oh, hello," he greeted the blonde witch before turning his attention back to Draco.
Draco rolled his eyes as Blaise positively glared at him. "This is Astoria Greengrass," he supplied. "We're hiding from our parents as they plan a wedding neither one of us want."
"Oh." Blaise blinked. "Oh." With that, his usual easy grin returned and he relaxed his posture. "Lovely to meet you. I'm Blaise Zabini." He stepped forward and offered his hand to Astoria, who swept her gaze from his shoes to the top of his head before allowing him to kiss it.
"I know who you are," she murmured, holding his gaze.
Draco glanced between them and internally groaned. He had seen that look on Blaise's face before, and he mentally added 'warn Astoria away from the playboy' to his to do list.
Later than evening, Draco and Blaise were finishing a bottle of Firewhiskey in Draco's office when an owl interrupted them, its beak clicking against the glass. A pang of guilt shot through Draco as he hurried to lift the pane and allow the owl into the room; he had not contacted Hermione since she left this morning, despite promising that he would owl before dinner.
The meeting with the Greengrasses had gone on longer than he would have thought, and then Blaise had asked him to have a drink with him. They had done nothing but discuss Astoria, and if Draco didn't know better he would have said his friend was quite taken with the blonde witch.
He took the scroll from the owl's leg and offered it a treat before following it back to the window and watching it disappear into the clear night. His stomach twisted; was Hermione not expecting a response?
Unfurling the parchment, he groaned loudly as he scanned the contents, causing Blaise to jump up from his chair. "What is it?" he asked.
"It's the contract." Draco seethed, letting the parchment roll back up without reading it.
Blaise made a face. "How bad is it?"
"I don't need to look at it to know it's terrible." Draco barked a laugh and ran an irritated hand through his hair. "Lucius was the one who drew it up…" he trailed off, letting the implication of his words hang in the air.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence as Draco paced jerkily, clenching the scroll in one hand so hard it crumpled in his palm. Why was it that after all this time, his father could still control his life? Surely the Ministry could help; they wouldn't allow an unwanted arranged marriage in the twenty-first century...would they?
"I have to go," Draco said suddenly. Without breaking his stride or waiting for a response from Blaise, he picked up a handful of Floo powder, tossed it into the fireplace, and called, "Hermione Granger's flat!"
Within seconds, he stepped out of her grate, dusting soot from his shirt. She was sitting in the armchair, reading, but she glanced up as he appeared. "Hello," she said, smiling despite her shocked expression.
"Hi," he said sharply, wincing as his tone caused the smile to slip from her face. In an effort to make up for it, he stepped forward and cupped her cheek in his hand before bending down and brushing a chaste kiss to her lips.
"What's going on?" she asked as he pulled away.
"Please tell me that the Ministry has some sort of law against arranged marriages." He thrust the roll of parchment into her hand without further explanation.
Hermione frowned as she unfurled it. "The Ministry has been run by Purebloods since its beginning, either because they were in positions of power, or helped to line the pockets of those who were. There is no law against it, that I know of at least…" She trailed off so that she could read over the contract, her mouth moving in time with the words as she went.
Draco paced up and down her living room as the silence stretched on, a raging ocean of mixed emotions swirling inside of him. Had Lucius not already done enough damage during the war? And prior to that...he had never been a good father. He had spoiled Draco and taught him that he was superior to everyone else because of his last name...but when Draco had not achieved to a standard of perfection, Lucius had been incredibly harsh. It wasn't fair that he had escaped Azkaban and was once again controlling Draco's life.
"Have you read this?" Hermione's voice pulled him from his thoughts, her gaze lingering on the fine print below the signature line.
"No," he admitted, making his way to the three-seater lounge and throwing himself down on it. "Why?"
"It's rather in depth, for starters...I've seen contracts for murder with less clauses."
Draco snorted. "And you're surprised because…?"
Hermione shook her head. "This is airtight; if either of you break the agreements outlined in here —" she shook the parchment gently "— your assets will be frozen, your children could be taken from you…"
"What?" he growled. "My children could be taken from me?"
"It says so right here." Hermione leaned over and pointed out a paragraph towards the end of the scroll.
Draco snatched it from her and skimmed it quickly. "They go to Lucius," Draco breathed.
"It says they go to any living grandparent, or grandparents." Hermione frowned. "So Astoria's parents —"
"No," Draco spat, a blazing heat crawling up his neck. "They'll end up with Lucius, he'll make sure of it." He continued to read. "Here," he said, hitting the parchment with the back of his hand. "It says that they will be left with a surviving grandparent, and it lists Astoria's parents and Lucius by name...my mother isn't mentioned. I wouldn't put it past him to dispose of anyone who might stand between him and his grandchildren."
Hermione's eyebrows shot towards her hairline and Draco nodded slowly, confirming her non-verbal question. But why is Lucius trying to write Mother out of this agreement? Does he not think she will survive? Or does he think that she would oppose it?
Draco's fist clenched around the parchment, squashing it slightly in his hand. He had always assumed his parents had the same philosophy when it came to parenting him. His father had always been more domineering, but he had never thought of his mother as a wallflower; perhaps he had never stopped to consider what went on behind the closed door of their bedroom. Maybe his mother was not as invested in a life of Pureblood supremacy as Lucius was...
Draco sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. The contract seemed poised to bring more misery than he had first imagined, but now was not the time to concern himself with it; he needed to speak to his father before burdening Hermione with more of his family drama. "I met Astoria today," he blurted out in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Lucius. "She actually seems nice enough."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Oh," she said, and then licked her lips. "She's Daphne's sister, right?"
Draco cleared his throat, aware of the awkwardness he had just sprinkled on to the already heavy conversation. "Yeah. She was at Hogwarts until her fifth year, and then her parents sent her abroad to live with an aunt. She attended Ilvermorny in America."
"Did you know her as a child?" Hermione's tone was light, but the way her eyes narrowed at him as she spoke told Draco that she wasn't entirely comfortably discussing the woman who could was set to become his wife, however unwillingly.
"Of her," he said. "We probably met at a gala or something, but honestly my childhood was full of such things, I can never remember what events happened at which party; it's just one big blur."
Hermione made a noise of pity and Draco tensed; he didn't want to focus on the woes of a childhood in high society. "I think Blaise has a thing for her." He had meant to sound light and funny, but it came out as stiff and forceful. He cleared his throat and tried again. "He hasn't seen her in so many years, I think he forgot Daphne even had a sister. The way he looked at her today though, you'd think he'd never seen a woman before."
Hermione chuckled, and relief flooded Draco's chest; if she had noticed a change in him, she didn't let on. She leaned across the arm of the chair and Draco thought she was going to kiss him, but then she tugged the parchment from his hands and settled back in her seat. "If only we could get Blaise to propose to Astoria, you'd be free."
"What?" Draco blinked stupidly,
"In the fine print," she said slowly. "The last clause states that if either of you were to become engaged with another suitor of whom both biological parents approve, then the contract will be dissolved."
Draco's heart stuttered against his ribcage. "Holy shit," he breathed. "This is it; this is how I get out of the engagement!"
"Um…" Hermione frowned. "Draco, I know Blaise loves you, but do you really think you could convince him to marry a girl he doesn't even know?"
Draco blinked at her. "You managed to convince him to have sex with a girl he didn't know."
Hermione made a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh. "I think that may have been a little different."
Draco's mind raced. "It's the only way; I can't do it, says so right here." He stabbed his forefinger at the parchment. "If I were to become betrothed to anyone else while this contract is still being considered, Merlin only knows what Lucius would do…" he trailed off, allowing the implication of his words to hang, almost suffocating, between them.
He couldn't care less about money, but he wasn't sure where his mother fit in to all this. In her fragile state, Draco wouldn't put it past his father to use her as bait to control him. Narcissa was finally on the mend and Draco wasn't about to do anything to jeopardise that. Setting Blaise up with Astoria would be easy enough to do without making Lucius suspicious, which meant that the Malfoy matriarch would be safe.
Hermione cleared her throat, bringing him back into the present - though he was not entirely vested in the conversation. "If getting out of this mess relies on Blaise Zabini proposing marriage to an actual woman, I think you are very much screwed any way you look at it."
Draco offered her a half-hearted smile. "I have to talk to Blaise."
With that, he stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before making his way back to her fireplace. He waved as he disappeared from her grate, chuckling under his breath at the look of bewildered frustration on her face.
"Blaise," he said as he stepped back into his study. "I have a proposition for you."
His friend was still seated in the same spot he had been when Draco left. Blaise grinned wickedly as he faced him. "If it involves a threesome with Hermione then I am definitely in, but I must ask that you don't look me directly in the eye when -"
"Blaise!" Draco growled. "I need you to propose to Astoria Greengrass."
The Italian's grin fell away, only to be replaced with a disbelieving smile. He began to chuckle. "Sure, Draco. Shall I head to Gringotts now to purchase a suitable ring, or will you be explaining your ludicrous request before I go shopping?"
"I'll be explaining my ludicrous request before you go shopping," Draco deadpanned, thrusting the contract into Blaise's chest.