Chapter 48
Her request to go to her estate had been denied. The offending parchment sat on her desk. It was not a good time, it said. Why wasn't it a good time? How could this not be a good time? When was? Impotent anger coursed through her veins, even as she knew there wasn't anything she could do but comply. Still, that wasn't enough explanation.
Well, maybe she should ask for when would be a good time. She couldn't just meekly accept. Voldemort wasn't her father. This was her child and she hadn't seen him for much too long. Alternatively, she could suggest that Tabain come here for a short time. It was the less favorable option, but she needed to see her son.
Leaving her apartments, she made her way to the administrative wing of the citadel. She knew where it was now and it put pressure on them if she came in person. She wanted an answer.
A clerk met her as she arrived and she said she'd come to speak to Terry Boot. The clerk was nervous and congenial, asking her to follow him. It had been some time ago that she had realized that all the staff here were terrified of unsetting any of the courtiers. No doubt, Voldemort didn't take kindly to it when his courtiers complained about their treatment. It was perhaps wrong to use that fear, but she needed to get something done.
Terry sat in a small, cold room with stone walls. This desk was tatty and scarred, piled high with letters and parchments. She held out the letter declining her request.
"I need to know more," she stated. "If not now, I need to know when I can. I have an estate to run and it does, at times, need my presence."
Terry looked sickly, a blanket lying across his lap. He looked displeased with her presence, but then he had from the moment she'd arrived. The treatment he'd showed her back then was something he wouldn't dare now. He'd thought she was a pushover, someone who didn't belong here and who would have been weeded out within a couple of weeks of arriving. How wrong he'd been.
"I need a date when I can go," she demanded.
He sat silently for a moment, as if trying to think of what to say. "It's not a good time."
"It's not a good time for me to be away from my estate either." Suddenly, she wondered if Voldemort had answered her request at all or if it was Terry denying her because of whatever prejudice he carried. Her blood still made her unworthy in the eyes of some and they were using whatever means they had to prove it. It was funny that it even came from those outcasts she was supposed to belong with. Prejudice came from all sides, it seemed.
Terry sighed. "There is trouble on the roads. We cannot guarantee your safety."
"What do you mean trouble on the roads?"
"One of the areas you have to travel through is being problematic at the moment. Travel through some areas has been restricted until the lawlessness has been dealt with. A gang of highwaymen are plaguing the area, robbing anyone who passes." Terry pursed his lips. "Voldemort's guard is dealing with it. It shouldn't take long."
"What area?"
"None of your concern, Lady Nott. Voldemort can deal with his business sufficiently well."
"My estate and family is there. If there is a threat, I need to know."
"It is well contained, and the problem is being seen to, Lady Nott. I am assuming, of course, that your estate is in some ways defended."
"Of course." She didn't like the tone he used.
Malfoy had mentioned something about Voldemort not being in the citadel. This must have been what he was tending to. Whatever leaders he would find for this gang, they would suffer heinously. Some said that Voldemort had mellowed slightly in recent years, that he wasn't quite so indiscriminate in who he meted out his retribution to.
=0=
Voldemort's absence gave them a couple of days without any planned activities, but that ended the day her returned, when a notice of ball was sent out. The problem of lawlessness must have been dealt with.
Taking a breath, Hermione prepared herself for the evening before nodding to the elves manning the entrance to the ballroom. The door swept open to a brightly lit room contrasting from the darkness of the halls she had walked through. She wore a deep blue silk gown that night, which was surprisingly light. The circus of this court was on display in front of her, it ground on endlessly and she was very much a part of it.
Did Voldemort's return mean it was clear to travel now? She would send a note to Terry Boot in the morning to ask.
Women swept over the dance floor with flaring skirts, the men were neatly dress in equally luxurious materials. Everywhere she looked, there was color and sparkle. An ice sculpture of a soaring bird sat on a table laden with food. Musicians played on a raised platform and drinks were passed around on trays.
Hermione took a moment to note who was speaking to whom, surveying the lay of the land. Primarily, she sought to establish where Malfoy was, the principle threat. Even his tactics of telling her exactly what he was going to do was intended to appease her. It did work. She was nowhere near so worried now as his strategy was dependent on him achieving the insurmountable task of developing emotions strong enough to stir pity in her. Well, she didn't pity so easily. Actually, that was probably not true as she'd felt real pity for Astoria when it had come down to it.
Malfoy looked away from the group he was speaking to and she immediately felt the force of his eyes. I've been waiting for you, his eyes said. Unfortunately, there was something compelling in being so prominent in someone's mind. That in itself was some kind of bond, a common understanding. She could, after all, read his thoughts by a mere look.
Alright, maybe she was in a bit of trouble here. Not enough to give up her children's safety, but there was an attraction there. There were some very attractive qualities to him, but then there always were with predators. Their beauty and intensity mesmerized, didn't it?
Breaking away from the group, he walked toward her and she felt her nerves twinge. What was it he saw when he looked at her? It certainly wasn't love. She was a challenge and probably nothing more. Still, this game had its own level of excitement. Denying him had its rewards and she enjoyed seeing him take the reversal to seek another way. Persistence was perhaps his greatest quality. If he did actually develop some emotions, she'd be in trouble. He had her attention now, as it was.
"Care to dance?" he asked with a measured bow.
"Not sure my constitution would agree to being swung around at the moment."
"Everyone watching will be so disappointed."
Hermione looked around and just about everyone was slyly watching them. Annoyance flared in her. They had all made their bets, no doubt. "Perhaps I will," she conceded, just to inform their audience that she was not wilting under their attention.
"Excellent," he said and held his arm out.
Perhaps this had been a kneejerk reaction on her part. Now she actually had to dance with him and the materiality of it sunk home as his hand settled on her lower back, her hand placing in his. It was an innocent touch, but it never felt that way with him. She needed to get her mind away from the touch.
"How are your emotions coming along? The deal with love, in particular, is that you have to put the other person's interest ahead of your own. While I can see that you bank on that occurring for me, but by your strategy, that needs occurs for you. Might cause some dilemmas if you are then compelled to put other interests ahead of your own. It could even defeat the entire strategy."
"Are you assuming my opinion of myself will always be low enough to conceded that your best interests would be away from me?"
"We both know that they are. In marrying you, I would hand over every bit of power I have. You would have complete power over me and my children. Do you think I can ever trust you so much?"
His hand still warm on the small of her back as he swung her around the dance floor. Right now, he was leading, taking her wherever he wanted and she was compelled to follow. With Theo, she had trusted implicitly, but it hadn't been completely returned. "Theo always sought to protect me from the realities of his existence. I might even have lost him because of it."
"Would you grieve if you lost me?"
There he went, placing little images in her mind of them together, her the sorrowful bride. "It is not an experience I wish to repeat."
"But neither would you undo it if you had a choice," he said.
"No."
Malfoy raised his head slightly as if studying her. "Then if everything that preceded it was worth it, how can you say it is not worth doing it again? It means you feel the rewards are worth the risk, the loss itself, even."
Hermione looked away because she didn't want to answer the question.
"Perhaps it is the other way around," he continued. "It is the dying being loved that is worth all the costs. Is dying never having been loved not a bigger travesty?"
"But for you the travesty would be dying without having won."
"Some would say we are talking about the same thing."
"We are absolutely not talking about the same thing. The very first time I spoke to you, you said quite clearly that you were going to take my land. Your objectives haven't changed, only your strategy."
He smiled. "I did, didn't I?"
"The most dangerous part about you, Lord Malfoy, is that you have no ability to determine when the price is too high. You must win at all costs, and although your strategy is brilliant, I grant you, the price you have set of yourself might just be your undoing. You will have to trust me implicitly, and you have never in your life trusted anyone. History has proven that if you can't, bad things happen."
