Author's Note: This chapter ended up a lot longer than I was expecting, and doesn't seem to have covered as much ground as I thought it was going to. I swear I'm trying to wrap up towards the end of this story (not sure how many chapters left yet), but the characters keep surprising me. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the other week, even after it had been so long since my previous update. Trying to make time for writing again. I've missed it so much. Thank you, guys, truly.
Chapter 53: Supper
Arriving at Malfoy Manor by Floo powder was a little disorienting after so many months of abstaining from the substance. Still, Draco felt he managed his landing with a minimal amount of awkwardness. The fact that the Manor had a six foot tall fireplace specifically for Flooing didn't hurt matters either. He couldn't understand why anyone would make do with a shorter one; the last thing you wanted at the end of a trip through the network was to bang your head on the way out. It rather spoiled the entrance one hoped to make.
Admittedly, he never would have expected to come through that fireplace with Hermione on his arm. She was gripping it rather more tightly than necessary. He gave her a reassuring smile.
She let out a breath. "I just need a moment," she murmured. She wouldn't think about Bellatrix Lestrange. Or the last time she'd been in this Manor. It was a lifetime ago. Practically another world. Her robes covered her arms to her wrists. "Where to?"
"We can go up to my room. We'll get my things. I suspect there won't be any need to go to my mother. She'll come to us." He tried to sound more confident than he felt. They hadn't told her they were coming, but…it wouldn't take long.
A crack of displaced air surprised them both, and a house-elf stood before them. The elf bowed to Draco. "Master Draco. Mistress is wanting to see you." The little elf glanced at Hermione for the first time. "And you, miss."
Hermione let out another breath. "I guess we see your mother first, then go upstairs." She looked at the elf in front other. "What's your name?"
"Doesn't matter, Miss. This way. Follow Pinky." The little elf led them off at a trot.
They passed by hallways filled with paintings that looked down on Hermione, but fortunately, none of them said a word, though one or two may have left their frames to visit other sections of the house.
To Draco's surprise, Pinky led them to the salon, he could hear voices. He hadn't expected her to have any company. Before he could change his mind or have any second thoughts, Pinky opened the double doors and announced them. "Master Draco is home, Mistress. And he is bringing Miss to meet you."
Seated on her favorite chair, looking supremely elegant, and a little tanner than her normal porcelain complexion, Narcissa Malfoy smiled at Draco and Hermione. "It's so good to see you both." Turning to her companions, she added, "You'll know my son Draco, and his fiancé, Hermione Granger. We're having the family ring measured against her this week. You know those Goblin-forged rings—can't alter them with witchcraft, they have to go back to the smiths."
"Mother?" Draco asked, feeling Hermione's arm tighten against his. He evaluated the situation. Fewer guests than she would have had once upon a time. Some women he would have expected to be there were missing, and he didn't recognize some of the others.
"Oh, I know the official announcement hasn't been posted yet, but we're all friends here," she said charmingly. "Now, go on about your business. We'll get together for lunch tomorrow. Now, Mildred, you were saying?" Narcissa asked pleasantly, turning to one of her companions.
Draco debated the wisdom of going upstairs and leaving his mother to her own devices. "Well, I'll only be a few moments. Hermione, why don't you stay down here with Mother and her friends and have a cup of tea? I'm sure they wouldn't mind one more around the table."
Hermione stiffened very slightly and hoped only Draco noticed. She tried to gage Narcissa's reaction out of the corner of her eye but couldn't see well enough. She decided to have a little faith. "Would you mind terribly if I stay, Narcissa? We've gotten to spend so little time together this year."
Only Draco noticed that his mother's smile became fractionally painted on as she made a polite acceptance and ordered the house-elf to bring another chair and cup for Hermione, and the women all shifted a little to make room for her. Smiling himself, Draco took himself upstairs.
In short order, his bedroom was bare. Robes, old textbooks, his broom—everything was packed away and enchanted for easy removal. He carried it all in a single box and made his way back down to the salon, plastered a smile on his face, and ducked his head in the door. "Hermione, love, are you ready to go?"
"Oh yes, I've just finished my cup. Lovely meeting everyone," she said, politely.
"I'll walk the two of you out," Narcissa offered. "Pinky, another round of those blueberry tartlets."
The three of them had only made it around the first corner when Hermione asked, "What is that rubbish about fitting me for the family ring?"
"It's called damage control, Miss Granger. I couldn't very well say that you two were just shacking up." There was disdain in her voice. "I warned you that someone would take control of your re-entry into the wizarding world, Draco, so I've done what I could. That nasty Skeeter woman writing that I had 'tears in my eyes' as the thought of you two together. Well, that is precisely the wrong public image, regardless of anything I might be feeling. Fortunately, I had the foresight to have a gathering planned before I got back and I've done what I can."
"Mother, who were those women?"
"Oh, a woman or two from the Ministry, a couple of the ladies I went to school with. Just…a gathering. At any rate, the three of us should have lunch tomorrow to discuss some things. Are you free at half past eleven?" Narcissa asked, just feet from the fireplace.
"Mother, unlike you, we both work. Neither of us is free at half past eleven."
"Hmm. Dinner then, I'll see you at seven."
"We aren't free tomorrow. How about Wednesday?"
"Wednesday it is then. Seven o'clock, and don't be late." Her voice was crisp, but it wavered just slightly as she reached out and wrapped her arms around Draco in a brief hug. "I have missed you." She scurried off down the hall back to her guests.
Hermione gave Draco a level look. "You left me to the wolves back there. You'd better be cooking something good for dinner tonight."
He kissed the top of her head, his box still in his arms, and they went home.
Monday was busy, and Draco tried to straddle the line between two worlds. He walked to work, because he'd never considered what the best Apparition point was for coming in. But at lunch time he snuck away to Apparate to Diagon Alley. He opened his own Gringotts vault separate from the family vault and popped by the joke shop just long enough to see that his share of the mirror sales went to his personal vault instead of the family vault.
He wanted to see if his new robes were ready, but by the time he made it back to an alleyway near the library and rushed back to work he was already a couple of minutes late. And he hadn't eaten.
He Apparated back to Diagon Alley at the end of the day to pick up the robes he'd been fit for over the weekend.
Somehow, despite his best intentions, Draco hadn't found a way to put in his two weeks notice with Theresa.
And he cooked the Muggle way still mostly. He was going to have to find a spare moment to pick up a book with cooking spells in it. It was one of those things he thought he'd never need to learn. He still hoped to talk Hermione around to a house-elf to help with the cooking and the cleaning….but magic at his fingertips helped make it all a bit more bearable.
Hermione was convinced she would never get the smell of aconite out of her robes. Or her hair. And was that…she couldn't even identify the other herb smell that clung to her. Maybe it was a mix.
Belby was true to his word in helping her make arrangements for later this month, and she was brewing extra batches of Wolfsbane potion as she could. Nothing ever felt like it was moving fast enough.
She pulled her hair back from her face and contemplated putting it up in a bun. At least it might not look frizzy then.
"You're fretting."
"And you're not? I've watched you change from Muggle clothes to robes and back three times now," she pointed out.
Draco pushed his hair back from his face. "With my mother, it's a matter of psychological warfare. I don't know which would catch her more off-guard. I wish I had a better idea of what that meeting on Sunday was all about."
Sighing, Hermione turned from the mirror and took his hands. "It seemed to be just what she said, a gathering where she tried to do damage control. I think it was as much for herself as for you. There was no one of particularly high power with the Ministry there. I think she was trying to get a feel for what sort of alliances were within her grasp. Even if she has personal objections to our relationship, I think she'll publicly support it for the sake of her image. She doesn't have the social collateral to risk being outraged at our relationship right now. Acquiescing to it will hurt her standing with her old friends, but the defection at the end of the war and her lenient sentencing has already put a distance there anyway. Her best option is to gather what power she can to herself now and at least look like she's turning over a new leaf." She paused a beat. "I do wish we didn't have to go into that house tonight. I know it was my idea on Sunday…"
He squeezed her hands and rested his forehead on hers. "I know that doesn't make it any easier. We can Owl if you want; tell her we can't make it. Or reschedule."
She gave it serious consideration before giving a tiny shake of her head. "No. I can survive one more evening. I don't want you to lose your mother because of me. I'll try if she will."
He kissed her lips and then her forehead. "If nothing else, I imagine we'll always have Molly Weasley to take us in at the holidays."
"That reminds me. I had a note from her this afternoon. She wants to have us over for dinner soon."
There never seemed to be enough hours in the day for all the demands on their time. They'd have to make time. But one of these days—when they'd decided where they wanted to live, and he'd finally given notice at the library, and her big meeting with the lycanthropes was done…he was going to whisk her away on a proper vacation.
"We'd better go before we talk ourselves out of it. I suppose I look as good as I'm likely to get at this point."
"You look beautiful." He delayed their departure by a few minutes with some rather thorough kissing, after which, she had to straighten her robes again and run a comb through her hair again. At last, they made their way to the fireplace and departed.
Pinky was waiting for them at the fireplace when they arrived. "Master Draco, Miss, Pinky will be bringing you to the garden. This way now."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at Draco, but he simply gave a light shrug. He didn't have any more of an idea of what to expect than she did. Or not much at least.
Immaculately groomed as ever, Narcissa was waiting in the rose garden, her robes just of a shade of deep red to match the flowering bushes behind her. The sun was low on the horizon. While the table and chairs appeared to be ironwork, there was a very good cushioning charm built into the chairs, noticeable as soon as you sat down. A table off to the side contained an assortment of beverages and glasses, be-spelled to remain cool. "Draco darling, so glad you could make it. Miss Granger," she nodded.
"What is this about Mother?"
"I thought the garden might be a more enjoyable place to dine this evening. Fresh air, sunset. Quite picturesque. Please, sit, both of you."
Draco pulled out Hermione's seat for her before taking his own.
"I'm glad to see you haven't lost all your manners this year, though the time was you would have pulled out my chair." With a wave of her hand, Narcissa's chair scooted itself forward as she sat down.
"Well, Mother, it is important to acknowledge that you are no longer the central woman in my life."
The blonde witch pressed her lips together and made no comment to that, gesturing for Pinky to open a bottle of wine and begin to serve it. "Have you been to visit your father?"
"No." He left it at that. The emotions still bubbled too close to the surface there.
"I see him from time to time," Hermione said pleasantly. She sipped her wine even though it was a red—not her first choice. "Part of my ongoing work with people who suffer from lycanthropy brings me to Azkaban."
If possible, Narcissa's mouth got thinner. "And is Lucius aware of your…relationship?" Her gaze moved from Hermione to her son.
Hermione gave an easy shrug. "It's hard to say. I've never said it outright, but I suspect he knows. There's a lot to discuss in a day. He's never said anything to lead me to believe that he objects." Admittedly, if Lucius flat out objected to their relationship, Hermione would have to come to the cross-roads in her efforts with him. Either she'd stop making the attempt to talk to him, or…well, as a captive audience, she could go into great detail about all the reasons why objecting was wrong and stupid. Her mouth quirked a little at the thought of hammering him with reason to bring him over to their way of thinking.
Another house-elf appeared with plates and a large salad bowl and began serving them. When everyone had been served, Narcissa picked up her fork and began.
"The real question, Mother, is what you intend to do." Draco reached for Hermione's hand. "Do we have your support?"
A butterfly landed on Narcissa's chair momentarily and flitted off again. The pause stretched.
Her tone was crisp, but she spoke more bluntly than Hermione had ever heard her before. "This is all rather sudden. Let me be frank with you. I believe convenient circumstances caused the two of you to cling to one another. That is not enough on which to build a lasting relationship. You come different backgrounds, and likely have different goals. No matter how infatuated the pair of you may be right now, I do not see a long term future for the two of you." She paused, picking up another mouthful of salad with her fork—it was rich with nuts and berries—and ate it before continuing. "That said, remaining together at least for a short time, with my apparent approval would certainly be in everyone's best interests. Draco will have a long climb back to any position of decent standing after his year out of society; most of our former allegiances will work against him rather than for him, so it's important to build new ones, which you already seem to have begun." She nodded in approval. "Having the good opinion of Harry Potter on your side wouldn't hurt. Your connection with the Weasley family might actually be useful as well." She gave the pair of them careful consideration with her gaze, but continued again before they could interrupt. "It would be better for you to present yourselves as engaged, rather than merely living together. To show that you've made a commitment and aren't just fools in lust. After a year or so, the engagement could be quietly broken with no hard feelings. Draco will find himself at a better social standing by that point, and likely with job security. I don't know what I can offer you, Miss Granger, that would be fair recompense, but I'm sure we'll come up with something." She looked from one of them to the other and resumed eating carefully.
Hermione pushed her plate away. "You can't be serious." The sun was sinking low and bathing the gardens with an orange-pink glow. The beautiful setting was at odds with Hermione's desire to reach across the table and upend a plate on the woman's lap.
Draco shook his head, watching Narcissa."She's entirely serious. She sees this as a business arrangement where we all gain, but no one is emotionally invested. The only time she tells this much truth is when she does't think an easy lie will work. Hermione and I are not engaged, Mother, and we won't pretend to be. We take our relationship at our own pace and no one else's." He looked at her coolly and mimicked her earlier action of eating what was on her plate as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
Mastering her expression, Hermione added, "While you live in your fantasy that the world is still yours to arrange and organize, let me tell you what's really been going on since you were exiled. Your son and I are in love. We've moved in together and will be looking for another residence shortly. We've no need to come back here—ever again—unless you want us here, on our terms."
Narcissa's face was stiff. "Your terms?"
"Aunt Dromeda is in my life. We see her regularly. And when I have the time, I baby sit my cousin's son." He sipped his wine. "For all the claims that family was more important than anything else…It seems outrageous that you've let me grow up without knowing my aunt or cousin. And now, it's too late to know my cousin. Instead, Teddy is being raised by Aunt Dromeda and his godfather."
"Who isn't as bad as you thought," Hermione added.
"True." He turned a pleasant expression towards his mother. "Our terms. Our relationship proceeds at our own pace. We've mended fences with the Tonks side of the family tree; I can't force you, but I recommend you do the same if you want to see us on the holidays. And, I don't ever want to hear a snide word about Hermione's background ever cross your lips again. If you can't live with our terms, then I've very little else to say to you, now or ever. Molly Weasley is more than happy to have us over for the holidays."
Narcissa's nostrils flared slightly and she motioned for one of the house-elves to clear the plates and the others to bring the next course. "So, you seem to think that love is all the two of you will possibly need to be happy. What do you intend to do for a living, Draco? How will you afford robes and brooms and all of the other niceties you've become accustomed to in this life?"
The house-elf returned and laid out plates of steamed salmon on a bed of new potatoes and sprouts.
"I've learned to make do without my broom or your money this year. I am capable of working for myself. I can adjust as needed. Snakes are good at shedding their skin. I'll adapt."
"You'll keep working where you are now?"
He shrugged as if it didn't matter. He still hadn't found the right time or way to give notice at the library. "I might. It's not too taxing. I can live off of it. I meet new people. You ought to try it sometime—working I mean."
The blonde witch let out a soft sigh. "I did not teach you such abysmal manners."
"No, but you did teach me that my words are as much a weapon as my wand. I make do with what I have. For the last year, because of the choices you and my father made…I haven't had a wand to defend myself. Just my tongue. It's razor sharp." His voice had gotten cold and Hermione reached over to squeeze his hand. Neither of them wanted to be in this house tonight. She wouldn't miss it if they never came back. It was a mercy to both of them that they were eating outside and not within the walls of the Manor.
"I did not teach you to disrespect or disobey me."
Fairy lights were just starting to glow along the fence as the last of the sun's light disappeared for the day. Most of their main course was uneaten, but Draco and Hermione had had enough. They were leaving. They stood, almost in unison. Hermione looked down at the blonde woman. "You know our terms. We don't want anyone in our lives who doesn't want to be there. Now it's up to you. Draco, where's the nearest Apparation point?" The spells on the Manor wouldn't let her just Apparate out from anywhere.
"This way," he tugged on her wrist gently and led her out through the garden rather than through the house. They didn't say another word to his mother.
