Chapter 49
A note arrived from Malfoy the next morning. Hermione could tell by the red wax seal and she wasn't sure she wanted to open it. The previous night, she had managed to talk herself into realizing what a bad idea Malfoy's pursuit of her was. Part of her was dying to know what he now said in this letter. Did he agree, acquiesce that this was all a very bad idea. Or was this some counterargument.
Cracking the seal open, she took the letter over to the window where the light was brightest. The parchment was stiff and smooth.
Come with me to Colmmire, it said. I have a gift for you.
Why would I want this gift, she thought.
Because I have gone to considerable trouble, the next line said as if he had fully anticipated her reaction, and it would be something you can remember me by if I die before ever achieving my goal of your love. And if me dying without love is not enough to sway you, there is also a toymaker that can make any return home more exciting.
Hermione smiled. Melodrama really didn't suit him.
A knock on the door startled her. She wasn't expecting anyone at this hour and had the suspicion that Malfoy had followed this letter, maybe even delivered it in person.
She was right. He stood there, wearing his heavier jacket. "Come on. Daylight is burning."
"I have not said I'd come."
"It would be rude not to. I've planned the whole day. It is the least you can do after so clearly spelling out my doom last night if I pursue this foolhardy venture I am apparently incapable of pursuing in the first place. You're a rather confusing person, Lady Nott."
He walked into her apartments, again invading her space. He turned. "Or we could spend the day here—quietly and unobserved."
"Perhaps I do not wish to spend the day with you, Lord Malfoy."
"As you were also instrumental in making my time amongst the ladies of the court very uncomfortable, I am now beseeching your protection."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"The more I am seen with you, the less chance they think they have, and are more likely to leave me alone. Obviously, they don't quite see the impediments to our marriage the way you do." He looked at her and smiled. "Physically removing me would cause such a scandal."
Aggravation stirred inside her. "You're completely bullying me."
"Which apparently has absolutely no effect on how you feel about me, so get your coat. I'll get it." He went to walk toward her bedroom.
"No," she said, grabbing his arm. "I'll get it."
For some reason, she really didn't want Malfoy in her bedroom. Even though she had visited him in his, she did not want to return the exploit. He really was coercing her. Calling the guards to have him removed would cause scandal and she would be dealing with that for who knew how long. Staying here with him had perils, because she knew his aim would be toward the bedroom. Going with him was the easiest and safest option.
Well played, Malfoy, she had to concede. Granted, a day out of the citadel had a certain appeal. Colmmire was a nearby township some hours ride away. It served the citadel with artisans. Before Voldemort's rise, it had been a muggle town, but it had been taken over by those of non-pristine blood serving Voldemort's regime.
Hermione grabbed her coat, feeling a little overwhelmed. Through ties of manners, scandal avoidance and risk minimization, Malfoy had her tied up in knots exactly like she had done to him not so long ago. But for her, the cost was a day's outing, as opposed to thwarting his entire plans.
One of his sleek carriages was waiting outside in the courtyard below her apartments. Its black body shone with wax and the four horses all matched. The springs gave as he helped her into it, the interior pale yellow silk. It was a beautiful carriage, but then Malfoy tended to have beautiful things.
The carriage set off as soon as he was seated and they were closed inside the space, protected from the elements outside. A grey and windy day, like most were.
"I have toys somewhere on my estate," he said after a while. "I don't know where, but I do remember them. My son should have them."
"It is just as likely to be a girl."
"Then my daughter should have them. I have been thinking a great deal about my family of late," he admitted, speaking quietly, his gaze still out the window. He remained silent after this. It brought to mind her own. Like his parents, hers had passed as part of the war that had brought Voldemort to power. So many people had died that when it ended and Voldemort was no longer challenged in his ambitious, everyone had simply wanted an end to the bloodshed.
In fact, they spoke little on the journey to Colmmire and Hermione was grateful. Sparring with him took so much energy and she wasn't sure she could manage a whole day of it.
"I tire in the afternoons," she stated, her voice sounding loud after the long period of silence. He turned his attention to her. "Just so you are aware."
He nodded.
The roads this close to the citadel were well maintained. There were also no highwaymen to hinder them and they arrived safely in the village. It had been a long time since she'd visited it. It looked the same, strewn houses with little shops underneath. The center of the town was muddy and an old well sat in the middle of the square.
Villagers watched them as they passed, walking toward this toyshop and whatever gift Malfoy had intended for her. A bright store front displayed toys carved in wood. There were dolls and animals, carts and buildings. Some of them were very clever with moving parts. This was good quality work. A small bell tinkled when they stepped inside and an older man appeared from the back.
Hermione perused the shelves and found a farmyard set that she decided to purchase. Malfoy indicated a castle carved in wood. "My driver will come pick it up."
"Thank you, my lord," the man said with a deep bow.
"And this set," she said. "I will pay now. How much?"
He said a sum and Hermione felt it was cheap for the quality of the work, so she paid a bit more. The man's hand shook a little as he accepted the galleons. Now that she was close, she could see that his clothes were so thin in areas, they were almost see-through. And he was gaunt.
They left the shop and walked a little further down the village. There were children looking at them as if they were the strangest sight they had ever seen. Some of them were neatly dressed, but in old and worn clothes, a few had little more than rags on and they were all thin. No one spoke to them, almost a little fearful, it seemed.
Now that she looked around her, everyone was thin. "These people are hungry," she said. In fact, there was no smell of food anywhere.
"You," Malfoy said to a fearful boy, perhaps a little too harshly because the boy shook like a leaf.
"Don't be afraid," Hermione said and the boy reticently approached, eyeing the beading on her reticule. Hermione picked out a coin and the boy stared at it.
"What are you eating?" Malfoy asked. "What did you eat today?"
"Soup," the boy said and blinked.
"And bread?" Malfoy queried.
"On Sundays."
Hermione gave the boy the coin and he ran off as quickly as his legs could carry him. "These people are starving," Hermione said.
"There are spies here," Malfoy said quietly. "Let's return to the carriage."
They walked back to the carriage, but only saw the driver in the square. Malfoy spoke to him before returning. "The horses are being watered. They are stabled over there. The driver has gone to collect our packages."
It started to rain and Malfoy urged her toward the stable building and the large wooden doors bleached with years of sun and weather. They opened them slightly and slipped inside. It smelled of hay and horses. The entire carriage was inside and the horses had been unstrapped and taken into stalls further down. There was no one else around.
"These people are eating bread once a week," Hermione said, still stunned with what she'd learnt.
"None of the farmland around here belongs to the town."
"Some of the merchants are wealthy."
"Some of them are not. Is Voldemort aware of the state of things here?" she asked.
He made a soft hushing noise and shook his head.
"They're starving," she said quietly, searching his eyes. Could it be that Voldemort didn't have the grain to feed them, or was he purposefully starving them? Was this how he quelled rebellion, starving people into weakness? No wonder there were highwaymen on the roads. "We have to do something."
Malfoy bit his lips together. "We cannot challenge Voldemort," he said barely louder than a whisper. "You know exactly how he will react."
"Is the whole kingdom like this?"
"This town is particularly disadvantaged because it has no farming community attached. They're all artists." He looked her in the eye for a moment. "And there is a lack of people farming the lands. We tend to take whatever labor we need and Voldemort recruits any able-bodied for his guardsmen."
"What of all the grain we produce?"
"Voldemort is distributing as he sees fit. We could perhaps circumvent it by delivering some grain directly from our respective stores."
"Yes," Hermione said with hope.
"It will bear risks. Voldemort will not be please if he finds out we are circumventing his procedures."
"His procedures are starving these people."
"Then we will be partners in crime," he said with a smile. There was mischief and levy in his face. "Do you trust me enough to risk punishment if I fail you?"
In fact, she was deeply impressed that he'd wanted to help these people, were actually taking some risk to do so. She would have expected him to say there was nothing they could do.
"Yes, I trust you," she said and he blinked as if he hadn't expected her to say it.
Then he snorted. "Like a dog, you are training me to perform good deeds, just for the adoration in your eyes."
"There is no adoration in my eyes."
"Then what it is I'm seeing?"
"Astonishment that underneath your harshness and calculation there is something who can feel empathy for strangers, at considerable risk."
"The things I will do to impress you."
"Is that the entirely of it? To impress me?"
"As opposed to your disturbingly low opinion of me, I do not like seeing the defenseless suffer."
Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed him. Maybe because for a moment, he was the man she wanted him to be, someone who cared for someone other than himself. Warm lips met hers, surprise giving to something deeper and headier. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her fully to him. The taste of him suffused her mind. It had been so long since they'd kissed like this and the urgent need she'd felt then returned like a levy being released.
A knock on the door broke them apart and the driver returned. Hermione lips felt bruised and sensitive. She'd just lost her mind and kissed him. He was utterly right in that there was something in her that direly wanted him to be a better man. If sheer benevolence melted her defenses against him, what would his love do?
"Time to go," he said, breathing deeply. There was a slight rosiness to his pale cheeks that wasn't usually there. "We ought not to spend more time here then we should."
He helped her into the carriage as the driver collected the horses. They left as soon as they were ready, traveling out of the village to the road returning to the citadel.
Hermione felt that the turmoil of the day had taken its toll and her energies were flagging, her eyes growing heavy.
"Sleep," he said gently and offer his shoulder. She shouldn't, perhaps, but she did feel she trusted him more now than she had before, and she direly needed to nap.
"What about my gift?" she said as she was drifting off. "You forgot my gift."
"No, I didn't. I will give it to you later."
As she dozed, she half felt his hand resting on her knee.
