.
»»-¤-««
Then shuts the Door to her divine Majority
"When will they arrive?" I asked, slightly breathless as I leaned over the open windowsill, letting my eyes hungrily take in the sights and commotion of London. The layer of fog had started to settle in, clinging obstinately to the streets and buildings as it cast a yellow glow when the shy sun was inclined to peek and withdraw every few moments. Each carriage that swept across the narrow, cobblestoned streets of the city looked a dark blur against the faded backdrop of mist.
"Harry said they'd arrive today, do you think they are delayed?" Ginny could hardly be bothered to sit up as she leaned against the pale rose divan, her feet dangling over the edge and her sparkling copper hair cast like a blanket over the pillow behind her head.
We had hardly arrived in London and I was itching to explore to beautiful cobble-stoned streets and lively shoppes with their expensive, worldly wares. I had not been in London since my early youth, and had it not been for Harry's invitation I likely would have gone another lifetime without breathing in the earthy air of the raucous and lively streets.
"I can't be certain. You let the Innkeep know that we are expecting them?" Ginny brought her hand to her forehead with a dramatic slap.
"I forgot!"
"It's alright, stay here - I will let them know."
I had been aching to explore the Rose and Crown Inn since our arrival. Had it not been for Harry's connection, I would have likely never stepped foot in such an ostentatious building, let alone slept there. Everything appeared gold and burgundy, like a gilded rose that refused to keep blooming, and the walls were gracefully adorned with oil paintings of flowers living in intricate golden frames that were four-inches too wide. If it had not been extraordinarily beautiful, it would have been overwhelming.
"What would I do without you, Hermione?"
"Die from loneliness and mental malaise, I'd imagine," I said as I pulled the door shut behind me.
I let myself take a breath as the quiet hallway brought me a moment of well-earned peace, a luxury that had not been afforded me since leaving Devon the day prior. With every mile that distanced me from my home, I felt the weight of my surmounting duties slip and fade off of my delicate shoulders.
Much had changed for me in the past several months.
The delights of the ball at Malfoy Estate were hardly affecting enough to earn a spot amidst my memories, yet my thoughts lingered on the beauty, the sense of unapologetic frivolity, and something else that I refused to acknowledge within me. Life had not granted me opportunity to relive such a thoughtlessness, as every day following that evening was full of labor and care to my family.
The Dress Shoppe had amounted significant business as, with a declaration from the Ministry, all Magical Clothiers were forced to ration their enchanted woven fabrics and create garments only for the Magical Army that continued to roam France and move into Belgium. Thus, all production was temporarily halted and the wealthy who had grown accustomed to donning their new and impressive garments for the season - and believed that God Himself would never deign to wear the same outfit twice - were forced to utilize their idle minds in order to acquire proper attire.
Granger's Dress Shoppe appeared to be an agreeable alternative. Though many of the dresses, tailcoats, and Top hats sold at my father's shop had been enchanted - whether with glamour spells to bring in the waist or fill an ample bosom, or with enhancement charms to strengthen specific magical properties - the shop was considered a muggle one and was thereby unmoved by Ministry decree. My parents, both Muggles, owned and operated the charming yet modest store in a small town in central Devon. And while the magical threads used by many witch or wizard dresscrafters were being rationed for fortification spells, I had developed a method of incorporating magic into the threads after my mother and father had finished hand-sewing each item.
Thus, business was booming.
Unfortunately - or rather, if one were to ask solely me, it would be considered unfortunate - I was asked to leave the Dress Shoppe under the custody of my parents while I was to accompany Ginny to London. Harry had written letting her know that his regiment was being brought to London to attend several gatherings and improve visibility for the cause, and thus he had asked that Ginny meet him there.
Naturally, as all generous and benevolent friends ought to do, I agreed to accept free lodging, dining, and transportation exchange for my company.
It was to my parents unmasked relief that I accepted the journey since, as my mother had reminded me at every opportunity, I was nearly four and twenty and still had the misfortune of being without an adequate suitor and no potential prospects for marriage. Despite this looming dreadful curse that maidenhood had become, I was - at present moment - alone, save for my darling friend, and with a pocket full of coin and a thirst to explore every corner of London while my youth and freedom permitted.
My solid wooden heels hardly made a peep against the elegant ivory carpet that curved with the corridor. I brushed my fingertips over the thick wooden banister, feeling the cold, smooth texture with every descent of my step.
The ground floor was equally astounding in sight and smell, the scent of florals - fresh and sweet - mingled with the cold air that waded in as several footmen pushed open the front door to bring in luggages - each larger and more impressive than the last. It had only been a moment, after I asked the Innkeep to send word to Room 12 as soon as the soldiers arrive, that I heard a familiar word.
My head turned toward the sound, staring quite obviously at the footman who pushed open the door and brought an oversized dark-green leather chest.
"Send this to Lord Malfoy's room, floor 2."
"Which room?"
"The whole floor's his, Martin. You alright, Miss?"
"Er -" I responded, rather abashedly. I supposed I must have given them a fright as I stood there, with my jaw half open and hardly obscuring my curiosity. It did occur to me in that moment that Malfoy may very well have walk in without any notice.
I disappeared at once, my thin legs, encumbered by the weight of my gown, carrying me with haste back to the room.
"Did you tell them?" Ginny called out, still laying lackadaisically in her favorite spot in the room.
"I did," I responded as I crossed the room, then paced back toward the door.
"What is it?" Ginny asked, her thin, arched brows knitting with curiosity as she forced herself to sit up.
"It's nothing."
"You're an atrocious liar, Hermione," Ginny admonished.
"Are there to be any other guests at the events this weekend?"
"Yes, of course," Ginny replied, staring at me as though I had asked if the sky was blue. "It is the social season for the upper classes, I'm certain there will be many people we do not yet know."
"I hadn't thought..."
"Who are you afraid of seeing?"
"No one," I bit back, my tone betraying my investment in the information, so much so that I found it difficult to remedy my sudden burst of nervousness. Suddenly, to my immediate relief, there was a knock on the door.
The soldiers were here.
»»-¤-««
"And with that, I ask that we raise our glasses to honor our brave soldiers - in their efforts to promote a peaceful union between Mother England and the Muggle world abroad!"
"Hear hear!"
I sat with a grin of happiness that consumed me at the sight of Harry with his red tailcoat, with golden tassels adorning his shoulder and a brightness in his face that seemed to light ever more fully as his eyes were cast upon Ginny's elegant beauty. The room was full with half a dozen soldiers - those selected to represent their regiment, and whom were of some notable birth. Despite this being an event hosted by the Ministry to celebrate the soldiers, the majority of the long banquet table appeared to be filled with elegantly dressed citizens with no affiliation to the military and no connection to the soldiers.
I hastily understood the intention of the dinner, while full of charisma and superficially displayed as an honorary event, was primarily an opportunity to garner support from the upper class. To encourage their involvement in enlisting - not from their own families, Heaven forbid, but to encourage their young tenants and their children to fight for the cause. It was vexatiously political. But I was happy to see Harry - and Ginny, together.
I sat at next to my dear friend Ginny while Harry sat opposite her. A man, perhaps several years older than I, name Baldwin Burkes sat across from me, though his eyes seemed to linger on Ginny who paid him no mind. I found myself making small talk with the man, a recent proprietor of a business near Diagon Alley, on a street in London many had apparently started to call "Knockturn Alley." As he regaled me about his travels and collection of fascinating and exceedingly rare artifacts sold in his shop the door to the Dining Room opened and two gentlemen stepped in.
I, among seemingly everyone else at the dinner, turned our heads to spy our new and excessively tardy visitors. I prayed no one could hear my gasp as my eyes landed on the pair.
One man was short, well-built, with dark-brown hair and hazel eyes. The other blonde, tall, thin but exceedingly aristocratic and elegant. I recognized both of them, and as Ginny noticed my suddenly ashen face, she gave me a curious look.
"Lord Draco Malfoy, and Mister Theodore Nott," the butler announced, and the pair stepped in.
Everyone rose to greet our guests and I could feel my face growing warm, a sensation due solely to the act of rising abruptly, I was certain.
Ever the host, Cornelius Fudge jumped up and rushed to shake the hands of his new guests. He glanced around the room with a thoughtful yet panicked glance as he observed all of the first ten seats were already taken with guests who had comfortably settled in. As customary, the higher the nobility, the closer their seat to the host - an etiquette seemingly impossible to abide by that evening, as evidenced by Fudge's drastically paling face.
I continued to peek at the pair who stood with patient poise as the portly little host with disheveled gray hair drummed his fingers on his lips in uneasy thought.
Blue eyes met mine, and I felt my heart quiver in my chest as the sudden gaze of Draco Malfoy landed on me. It was brief, yet long enough to feel as though the light in the room around me had gone out and all I could see was blue. Suddenly the gaze lifted, ascending over my head. His hand rose to point with a delicate curved finger toward me.
Blood rushed to my cheek. Pointing at me?
"You can not be certain, my dear Earl, those seats are preposterously far!"
The Earl turned toward Fudge and spoke a few words that I could not make out - though by my own admission I had grown too fearful to keep glancing so brazenly as they conversed.
Suddenly, however, I felt the towering sensation as Draco Malfoy's shadow graced me before he moved around the table to take a seat near the end. It was improper to have him sit there, I was sure of that. I was not particularly versed in upper class etiquette, though being middle class I was not fully illiterate, yet even I knew that he must have chosen to sit there. Had this been Muggle society, an Earl would have hardly faced the misfortune of sitting with someone so below his rank as me.
His friend, Theodore, sat himself next to me. I could smell the dense cologne that wafted off of him - though there was a faint scent of lilies as well. It was an odd combination of masculine and feminine, yet it was not unpleasant.
"How do you do, I am Theodore Nott." His eyes were slightly slanted and the sides of his face were covered in a neatly manicured curve of dark hair that followed the deep edge of his jawline.
I offered my hand, "I'm Hermione Granger, I believe we have met before."
While I hardly considered myself unforgettable, the look that Theodore offered indicated that he had not the briefest recollection of having ever met me.
"Oh? When would I have had the pleasure to meet a lovely lady such as yourself?"
"At the -"
"She was at the ball, Nott," the deep, clear voice of the Earl spoke, drawing the attention of both myself and Mr. Nott.
"Oh! Which ball?"
"At my estate," Malfoy answered. "Were you not, Miss Granger?"
I glanced up to meet his gaze, his handsome features emphasized by the slight quirk of his brow and the hint of a challenge in his tone.
I swallowed and nodded with a dignified and overly polite smile.
"I was there indeed, Mr. Malfoy. It was a beautiful affair," I replied, letting my soup spoon gently dangle from my grasp as I drew small circles into the cream of carrot, casting a trail of opaque milk to form against the warm yellow.
"You left with such haste, your friend was left without a carriage."
"I…"
"Did you fall ill? I was resigned to duck out early for the same reason, perhaps it was the veal," Theo offered.
"The food was fine," Malfoy replied, his gaze dropping from my own, though the thoughtfulness in his expression did not seem to fade.
I could hardly stand the tension between Malfoy and myself, though I did question whether the weighted air between us was of my own making. It was also growing apparent to me that the hazel gaze of Mister Theodore Nott would linger beats too long upon my décolleté. Thus I turned, with eager curiosity, toward my friend, Ginny, whose own eyes appeared preoccupied as they admired her dark-haired, uniform-clad fiancé.
"Was Ron not invited to attend?"
"Oh no, he was," she tilted her head toward mine, her voice falling to an intimate whisper, "But he couldn't make it; Lavender's expecting again."
"Ginny!" I gasped, "Surely you cannot be making a May game of me."
"I'm telling the truth, I swear it."
"By, poor Lavender, this should be their fourth child in," my fingers covered my lips as I considered the days, "less than four years?"
Ginny nodded woefully, taking a quiet sip of her wine as I let out a low breath. Conversation was ringing around us with the gentle clang of metal cutlery on porcelain bowls.
"How cruel of me, my instincts should have been to congratulate them on their little blessing."
"I'm not certain Ron sees it as a blessing yet, the little ones do tend to bleed him quite freely and he has yet to secure proper employment."
"Poor Ron," I sighed. "And has he not heard of a protective spell or is he too proud to consider such a thing?"
Ginny turned toward me with a heavy sigh.
"Oh Hermione," Ginny said, "That sort of magic does not take on us Weasleys. With Harry stationed in every European country on the continent, why do you think we are waiting to wed?"
As I straightened in my seat, suddenly sobered by the news of Ron's overwhelming yet exhausting blessing, I felt the bearing gaze on me. Though when I glanced up, Draco Malfoy was conversing with Mr. Burkes and, despite Mr. Burkes being enraptured by Mr. Malfoy's words - though they were few and far between - the quiet intensity of Mr. Malfoy seemed lightened by unenthusiastic nods and encouraging vagueries.
"What plans have you in London?" Inquired Mr. Nott as the House Elves removed the hardly-eaten third courses in preparation for the next.
"Truth be told, I only just arrived yesterday and have not yet seen the city."
"This is your first time?" The way Mr. Nott asked the question, it might have been assumed that I told him I had never owned a carriage - which I, of course, had not.
"As a woman of age, yes, it is."
"My dear, what do you do with your time? Surely, embroidery, music, and art can only fulfill a wandering social mind so much, how have you managed to maintain your acquaintances without attending the events?"
"I - Well, I -"
I had hardly any reason to hesitate, for while I was not a young lady of high society, I had - in my challenging state - brought myself and my family up several social classes by my sheer magical ability and business acumen. These traits, however, were of little use to someone like Mr. Nott.
"She helps her father in their dress shoppe," Malfoy filled the void of sound.
Mr. Nott gave me a look that appeared as appalled as if I'd just slapped him. I could feel my features darken the colour of watered-down-wine, and I bit my lip to save myself the embarrassment of speaking further.
That was short-lived as I hotly turned to the blond Earl who, while a pristine example of gentlemanly wealth and status, revealed himself to be a most impertinent man.
"Pray, Lord Malfoy, what is it that occupies your time when you are not at balls and parties? I have always found the expenditure of time for nobility to be quite the mystery."
I hid my face in my goblet as I took a long drink, hiding the curve of my lips that fought to reveal a pleased smile at the frown that crossed his handsome features.
"Why, Mr. Malfoy does a great manner of important things!" Mr. Burkes cut in, coming to the desperate rescue of the Earl. "And his valued time will be even further divided upon marriage, is that not so? Say, has there been a date set for your marriage to Ms. Greengrass? She is the most agreeable young lady."
His intense blue gaze flew to mine and I felt my eyelids lift with a humiliated sort of horror that surely translated into a blushing of my cheeks. I glanced away at once. What a fool I had been.
"Greengrass?" I heard the word as it passed my parted lips, but scarcely realized I was the speaker of it.
"There has not been a date set, no," Malfoy spoke the words quietly, his features souring further. He leaned into his chair, pushing long fingers against the plate as he drew them away from him as if they had an unpleasant smell. I could not help it as I looked between Malfoy and Nott, confusion blatant in my features.
"I apologize, I had presumed you were courting Ms. Greengrass," I whispered to Mr. Nott. Though it was no business of mine, I suddenly felt very foolish indeed to learn of Mr. Malfoys engagement to the lady. She was utterly beautiful, of high rank, and undeniably, positively dreadful.
Mr. Nott leaned back with a hearty laugh, his palm pressing firmly on his stomach as he did so, as if my question were a ridiculous joke.
"My dear, no," he emphasized, and waved his hand. "You have never been more mistaken in your life!"
I turned away, seeking the safety of a conversation with Ginny.
»»-¤-««
As the events of the evening progressed, with the delicious eight courses appearing then subsequently disappearing after everyone had a taste or two of their fill, guests were ushered into the drawing room for a smoke and a drink. Having limited experience with either indulgence, I found myself standing awkwardly and lingering by the bookshelves as I preoccupied myself with light eavesdropping and the subtle art of appearing distracted. I had no desire to cling to Ginny, as she was happily mingling with the soldiers and dangling gracefully off Harry's arm. They made quite the handsome couple, and I could not help myself but smile as I imagined what a lovely little family they would inevitably make.
"Not the talker, hm?" Mr. Nott's voice startled me as I turned to see his glazed hazel eyes boring into my neckline without any hesitation or regard to decency.
"I haven't had the pleasure of making anyone's acquaintance," I replied, watching as my words seemed to bounce off of his ears and dissipate like the swirling smoke that filled the air. I felt my spine straighten as Nott's gaze drew down my dress to take the image of me in, making a prize pig of me with his unveiled hunger that made the thin hairs of my neck stand on end.
"I fear I was a fool for having forgotten such a beautiful face as yours," Nott spoke, taking a step toward me. "Though I'm sure to never forget you again, with your little dress - displaying such a becoming, delightful form."
I felt my body instinctively step back and felt the panic flush into my face when my back pressed against the sturdy boundary of the bookshelf. Surely, the man would know his behavior was utterly untoward and exceptionally insulting. Undoubtedly, he was aware that he was in a room full of guests who would have the influence to cast his family into ruin at the suggestion that he was violating a lady in the presence of polite society. But I could smell the port on his breath. I could see the dazed gloss that coated his eyes as his movements swung with careless gracelessness that illustrated his level of inebriation.
"Mister - "
"Theodore," the voice was clear, deep, and full of authority.
Before I had the opportunity to beg for his disappearance or to firmly excuse myself from his alcohol-induced humiliation, the pale hand appeared on Mr. Nott's shoulder, and I could see the knuckles turn white as they squeezed and pulled Mr. Nott away from the few inches of space that was left between myself and my unwanted nightmare.
"I've just received an owl, and the Countess Lizette is requesting your company this evening," the words were spoken and I heard them, but everything seemed to stand still as the pale hair, crisp blue eyes, and debonair form of Mr. Malfoy appeared in my sight, speaking in a low but firm tone to Mr. Nott whose eyes suddenly widened, alight with intrigue.
I had hardly a chance to release the breath that was stuck in my lungs, too afraid to escape lest it have been mistaken for any form of invitation to Nott who had turned to leave, his coattails the last thing I saw before my vision was flooded by clear, concerned blue.
"Drink this," I felt the cold texture of glass press against my fingers and smelled pears. Sherry, golden and vibrant and smelling delicious.
"No," I said, my eyes lingering on the glimmering liquid, "I - I'm sorry, I mean, I would rather not lose my head tonight."
"It's laced with Pepper-Up Potion and you are trembling, madam." Mr. Malfoy assessed my pallid appearance and gave me a moment of free will before he reached back for the glass, "If you insist -"
I drew the glass back toward me, the prospect of peppering-up too seductive to refuse as I brought the liquid to my lips and took a hearty gulp. The exceptionally sweet, buttery fluid coated my tongue and dripped down into my soul with its ripe fruit and promise of relaxation.
The moment of drink gave me chance to take in the unusual face of Draco Malfoy whose sharp, handsome features seemed tainted with a look of interest that I had not yet seen on him, given his propensity to appear as cold and aloof as a freshly carved marble bust. He ran his fingers through the silver-blonde strands as he averted his gaze from my wandering eyes.
As the glass left my lips, I pressed my hand against my ribcage, my trembling fingers slowly easing against the beautifully adorned bones that made up my corset as the magic made its way through me. I did not quite feel peppered-up in any discernible manner, yet I felt the blood rush to my cheeks again and heat course through the surface of my skin as I felt the smoky air around me, covering me like a blanket and threatening to swallow me into its hypnotizing swirls of recreational hedonism.
I dropped my gaze into my empty glass, anxious that it was not the potion but his doting attention that brought life to me.
"Do not think me forward, madam, but I would like to escort you to the balcony for air," he said, noticing my palm hardly moving with adequate breaths as it lay resting against my ribs.
Air.
Dear God, my lungs cried for joy at the prospect, the thick air of the drawing room with its swirling magical smoke that filled the smokers with feelings of happy bliss seemed to coat my windpipe and prevent me from drawing in a full breath.
His keen gaze must have understood my sudden and overwhelming approval as, without hesitation, he offered his arm before leading the way toward seclusion and fresh air.
»»-¤-««
My fingers grasped at the stone baluster as my chest rose with a deep breath, the anxiety of Mr. Nott's inappropriate approach gradually releasing with each exhale. The sky was a rich navy, its colour accented with each passing cloud that appeared to float carelessly through the evening earth and lingered before the moon, hiding her bright and elusive face in a series of puffy, white blurs until they made leave and the next cloud made its journey toward her. The air felt crisp against my bare skin, but I relished in the reminder that I was outside, away from the nonsense of chatter and false flattery.
"Is your friend always such an unlicked cub?" I asked, my tone sharp enough to disarm Mr. Malfoy who cast a look of unbridled amusement and surprise toward me.
"Theodore has been one to appreciate elegant, beautiful ladies," Malfoy said, his eyes wandering over the barely visible horizon of manicured trees and pristine gardens. My chest tightened at his words, though I briefly questioned their authenticity - both the speaker and the essence of his speech appearing far too forgiving to be cast toward a lady like me - yet I chose to let the sound of his voice linger in my mind before I straightened to turn toward him.
"As do you, it seems," I said. His eyes widened briefly with a slight quirk of his brow before I continued my speech. "I believe I have yet to congratulate you on your engagement to Ms. Greengrass, my Lord."
"Ah, yes," he replied, turning away once more. With a light wave of his hand he brushed the weight of my formality away as he said, "Draco would suffice."
It was silly, the way my body responded to him. It was not entirely unheard of for a gentleman to find his company familiar enough to allow the use of his birth name, and yet I had not expected to have reached that form of familiarity with a man of such... I did not know what it was. It was not his status that appealed him to me. Nor was it his kindness, seeing as how he had cast several offenses toward me at first opportunity. I could not understand. And yet, I could feel the heat of a blush rise to my face and suffuse through my cheeks, casting the warm glow against the cold air around me at his request.
"Ms. Greengrass and I have been betrothed since we were born," he spoke, the words holding very little emotion as he ran his fingers over the stone railing, idly preoccupying himself amid his speech, "I did not have a choice in the matter."
"Oh," I replied. "You must think it a smart match, though?"
I felt the regret as the words passed my lips. The tightness in his brow bone as his forehead creased and the light purse of his curved lips indicated all the answer I needed but was not entitled to. Upon realizing that he had drawn into a quiet moment of introspection, he turned toward me with the cover of polite indifference set upon him.
"Of course," he said. "My apologies, miss, I did not mean to sound at all unhappy. Ms. Greengrass is a handsome woman and an agreeable match for my family."
"I should apologize, I did not mean -"
"Are you feeling better? I should escort you back inside."
"I-"
Before I had the opportunity to reply, the sudden wooshing sound of feathers and wind struck us both as a dark figure flew toward me. With a plop, a heavy parchment envelope fell at my feet as the dark brown owl that had carried it perched itself on the stone baluster.
Draco bent to retrieve it and I cast my glance between the bird and the man as he pressed the envelope to my well-chilled hands.
"It's addressed to you," he said, his voice and face still and calm as the day I had first laid eyes him.
Little dove,
Do not panic at my coming words, for all is well for the time being.
Your father has taken ill. He has contracted Cerebrumous Spattergroit.
"Spatter - Oh no," I gasped, my hand rising to cover my parted lips as dread coated my muscles and seeped into my heart.
The healers say the condition may worsen if we cannot procure a tincture.
Please know I do not write to frighten you, and pray that you may meet many agreeable suitors and new friends in London.
If you by chance are able to procure 6 Ashwinder Eggs or 2 Graphorn Horns, I may be able to brew the tincture in a week's time.
Do not worry, my little dove. God is with us.
All my love,
Mama
"Ashwinder eggs... Graphorn Horn?" My strained voice spoke the words aloud as my stomach twisted inside of me. "Those are - hundreds of galleons - exceptionally rare -"
I scarcely noticed that Draco Malfoy had been hovering over my shoulder, reading the words that were meant solely for me, but in the moment I cared not as I felt tears stream down my face and blur my horror-filled eyes. Cerebrumous Spattergroit was an uncommon and debilitating disease of the mind and would often produce extensive permanent memory loss without proper timely treatment, yet the ingredients necessary to produce such an effective tincture required immense fortune and connection. I could feel my shoulders shaking as the blue gaze washed over me.
"I have to go home," I murmured into my hand, crying helplessly as I felt the sudden urge to scream. What on earth was I even doing here?
"Do you have a carriage, or - "
"Only what Harry paid for - I cannot leave Ginny. I would take a broom if I could, but I cannot fly. Oh God, papa," I turned away from Mr. Malfoy and felt my body quiver with heavy sobs.
"Miss Granger, you may use my carriage. I will escort you to it now, it is guided by Thestrals and if you are so amenable they may be able to fly you home within several hours."
I turned with such speed I felt myself grow dizzy, my long brown curls brushing against the chest of Mr. Malfoy as he looked down at me with a clear expression of concern. I reached for him, desperate, as my fingers clutched at the collars of his jacket, my eyes stained red and sparkling with a constant stream of pained tears as I studied his features.
Our eyes met.
His, open and warm, coaxing me in with a sense of comfort and loneliness that made my already aching heart squeeze with an additional pang.
Mine, seeking and pouring gratitude without words as I held onto him, the warmth of his chest soothing my cold and quivering hands.
I had never been so close to a strange man and I could feel the Earth's response in its tranquility, save for the quiet chirping of crickets and the calm hooting of the owl as it awaited my response. I had none for it.
Instead, I spoke to the Earl. My Lord. Mr. Malfoy.
Draco.
"Thank you," I whispered, my fingers dropping their grip as he gave me a quiet nod.
It wasn't until I was sitting alone in his carriage as the thestrals flew over the sleeping streets of London that I let out a sigh. I touched the top of my hand, still seemingly warm from where his lips had graced it as he escorted me into the coach. I turned the moment over in my mind as I considered whether what I had seen was true. Ever the gentlemen, and in possession of an enviable quiet dignity, he held my hand as he drew me into the warmth of the carriage. And as we said our farewell, I swore saw it: within the guarded blue gaze of Draco Malfoy was yearning.
»»-¤-««
Author's Note:
I have to thank you for your review and feedback.
This story would likely not have a continuation had it not been for your positive responses and encouragement.
I never expected to write anything like this, and it came on a whim, but I am completely enamored with the era and the story and the characters.
So thank you, for giving this story life, and for giving me more purpose.
Please continue to share your thoughts and encouragement in reviews, it makes everything better.
Thank you,
Syren