Chapter Twenty-Five
Just as Draco exited the fireplace, two hands clawed his shoulders, hitting his arms. It took him a bewildered moment to realize that it was Hermione was literally beating the dust out of his clothes.
"I'm fine," he groaned.
"Where have you been," she squealed.
"I was visiting Potter."
She stopped what she was doing. "Harry? Why were you visiting Harry?"
"The pub was closed."
Hermione shook her head, not bothering to ask exactly when Potter had become a replacement for a pub. "It doesn't matter now. My parents are in the kitchen and your parents should be here any time now." She moved him out of the way of the fireplace, peering in as if to make sure it was working.
"It's just dinner."
She took a deep breath. "You're right," she said, "I should be calmer about this."
"You're smart enough to know that this could end terribly."
She took his wrist and led him into the kitchen where her parents sat at the table. Draco noticed that the table had gotten a bit longer at the ends. No doubt that Hermione had been working her magic on more than the meal.
"Draco," her mother greeted happily, "it's good to see you again."
Mr. Granger forced a smile, something his wife made him do, he guessed. Nevertheless, he nodded at Draco in way of a greeting.
Hermione rubbed her hands nervously. He took a good look at her then and while she still had that wild look in her eyes she had made an effort in her appearance. She wore a blue checkered dress and her hair was smoothed back into a bun. It was a small thing, but it made her look very different and Draco didn't know how to feel. As beautiful as she always was, he preferred her hair bushy and unmanageable.
There was a whoosh and an undertone of voices, one that was clearly his father's. Hermione rushed out to greet them and Draco tried to prepare himself.
"Trouble," Mr. Granger asked.
He couldn't tell if that was a genuine question or if he was mocking him. "No," he lied.
The Granger's stood to meet the Malfoy's, their hands outstretched. His mother hesitated, but ultimately shook their hands. His father refused, not daring to look at his son.
Draco gritted his teeth, but did not say a word for Hermione's sake. It was only the beginning and he was sure things were going to become much worse.
"Let's sit and eat."
Draco took his place beside Hermione. For two long minutes, they were engulfed in silence. Even as they shuffled plates about, each taking a small portion of food, they did not utter a sound.
Mrs. Granger was the first to break the silence. "So, what is it that you two do?"
His mother politely answered, but the tone clearly suggested that the Granger's wouldn't understand. "My family runs a chain of apothecaries. My husband comes from old money."
Not polite enough to ask what the Granger's did for a living, they fell once more into an uncomfortable silence. Poor Mrs. Granger, tried yet again to bridge the gap.
"Hermione, you haven't told us how you and Draco reconnected."
Hermione gave Draco a startled glance, but a meaningful one. "I met him at the Ministry."
His father gave him an inquisitive stare and Draco mentally pleaded that he wouldn't tell the exact circumstances. Obviously, it was something that Hermione didn't want to be known and he shared those reservations. Unfortunately, Mrs. Granger pressed.
"Oh, does he work at the Ministry?"
"Um, no."
His father lightly coughed. Draco shook his head, as if his father would see and not say what Draco knew he was going to say.
"I think what our children are avoiding telling you, Mrs. Granger, is that they met while my wife and I were on trial. Is that true, Draco? You didn't tell them?"
He met the steady gaze of his father. Draco knew that nothing was going to stop the horrible truth from coming out. Right then he decided that if the Granger's were going to know the truth then he was the one that was going to tell it. Draco faced her parents and forced the words from his mouth.
"During the war, my house was the base for Lord Voldemort and Death Eaters. Hermione unfortunately was captured... And was tortured for information by my aunt."
Her mother cupped her mouth, a small cry emitting. Tears shone in the corners of her eyes. Her father, on the other hand, took a deep breath his eyes blazing with a dark fire that came with a maddened father.
Draco looked away from her parents and straight at Hermione, her lips parted with shock. "I stood and watched," he continued, "I didn't do anything. I have never regretted anything more." In turn, he returned to face his parents. "None of you have to approve of me or her. I'm going to marry her anyway."
Hermione said not a word; he wasn't even sure if she was breathing. The kitchen became unbearably silent once more. Beneath the table, Hermione's fingers curled around his hand and it was her that spoke up.
"I forgive him."
The corner of his father's lip twitched. "It's that easy?"
She shook her head, an act that caused Draco's heart to plummet. "It wasn't before, but it is now. He's right, you don't have to approve."
"We don't," his father said, his cold gaze meeting his son's. "But... We will accept it. We'll accept this new life but I must warn you that this is not something you can come back from."
Draco's inside froze. His father was giving in too easily; something wasn't right. He could only nod and wait until the truth revealed itself. Knowing his father, he wouldn't leave there without giving a hint.
The remainder of the dinner was long and excruciating. That wasn't to say that anything bad truly happened, but the awkwardness of knives and forks scrapping on plates was giving him a migraine.
His parents were the first to leave, but before they left to the fireplace, his father gave him a rare hug. Draco's hands stayed at his sides as he realized that the hug was a pretense.
"If you do not break off this relationship, I will see that Ms. Granger is prosecuted for identity fraud." He straightened and grinned down at his only child.
Then they left. He returned to Hermione and her parents, where she was laughing at something that her father had said. Her smile could light a hundred galaxies. When they had departed, as well, Hermione was beaming.
"That went well, didn't it?"
Draco didn't answer, but offered a smile. Hermione saw right through him.
"What happened," she asked, touching his arm.
"I'll clean the kitchen and tell you later." She didn't move. "Please, Hermione, I need to think..."
She was hesitant, but left him to it. While she took a bath, he went into the kitchen. The food was hardly touched, which was a shame, because it was perhaps the best meal that Hermione ever made. With a few waves of his wand, the leftover food was being put into containers and the dishes were being washed. That hadn't taken nearly as long as he hoped for. Soon, he found himself sitting on the couch, staring at the very place where his father gave him the ultimatum.
Hermione or her career.
Hermione or her freedom.
If only his father had threatened him instead. He would have taken the fall for Hermione without sparing a thought. He thought rapidly, to find a way out, to spare his relationship and her career. However, his father was pardoned by all wrongdoing by fucking Harry Potter. Did that scar-headed man get anything right?
He wanted nothing more than to stay with Hermione. She could find another career and he could live without his inheritance. He would get a job, too. They would be poor but together.
Even as Draco lived in that daydream, he knew he could never go through with it. Hermione loved her career; she was doing good in the world. If he allowed that to be taken from her, then she would only resent him. No matter what he did, he would lose her in the end. Perhaps that was the justice of the universe: That he would fall madly in love with the most brilliant witch only to be forced to leave her. It was in no short what he deserved.
"Draco..."
Hermione stood in front of him, a white towel wrapped around her body. She was gathering her dripping hair over her shoulder, wafting the scent of her coconut shampoo over him. It took his breath away and almost - almost, made him forget his troubles. "Yes, love?"
"Tell me, what happened? I saw your father whisper to you. What did he say?"
She truly was a bright witch, the smartest person he had ever known (and that statement included himself). If anyone could figure out a way, it was her.
"We need to talk."
She frowned as she sat next to him. "Draco, what is it?"
"My dear father is blackmailing me."
Her frowned deepened, crinkles appearing between her eyes. "Oh," she breathed.
"He'll turn you in if I don't stop seeing you."
"This is a problem..." She chewed the inside of her lip. He swore that he could hear the gears in her brain working rapidly as she twirled a loose strand of her towel between her fingers. He stole her hand away, linking those fingers with his own.
"I'm so sorry about this. I knew that this supper was a bad idea and I should have insisted that we not have it."
"I wasn't aware I gave you a choice. I made this dinner happen and I will be the one to fix it."
"This is not your responsibility. I will leave you, if I must, but... If you have any ideas, I welcome them."
She then smiled, one that frightened him. "Don't worry your head about it, I have just the thing."