Chapter 29: Hermione

An altar had been erected in one of the gardens at Malfoy Manor, and a gleaming black coffin decorated with silver serpents sat upon a marble stand. The coffin was draped with a green silk cloth bearing the Malfoy family crest.

It had been the shock of Draco's lifetime when he received a desperate call from his mother. His father, Lucius, had suffered a major heart attack and had been rushed to St. Mungo's. Draco had immediately hurried to his father's bedside, but Lucius had suffered a second cardiac arrest, this time fatal.

"What does 'sanctimonia vincet semper' mean?" I asked. Blaise craned his neck to look out the window from where he lounged in a high-backed armchair.

"It means 'purity will always conquer'," he answered, a wry smirk on his face. "Until it doesn't."

From our vantage point in an upstairs sitting room that overlooked the garden, I could see that there were far fewer people congregated than I expected. When I remarked upon this to Pansy, she answered matter-of-factly. "Lucius Malfoy had no living relatives beside Draco and Narcissa, and most of his friends were Death Eaters - they're either dead or imprisoned. Honestly, I'm surprised there's even this many here."

Theo came to stand beside us, nudging Pansy and motioning out the window to a stern-faced older gentleman and a lady in a monstrous hat, her face obscured by thick black netting. Pansy groaned loudly. "My parents," she explained to me.

Theo tilted his head, his brow knitted in confusion. "Why is your mother wearing a veil?"

"Skin tightening charm gone wrong. She was trying for youthful. Instead, she looks like a melted rubber glove." A giggle bubbled up from her throat. "It's hilarious."

"You sent Blaise and I these suits for today for the sole reason that you believed we'd suddenly ignore all sartorial discernment and wear polyester -"

"As if we'd disrespect Draco, and ourselves, like that," Blaise cut in.

"- yet you allowed your mother to look as though she got lost on her way to a gothic apiarist convention," Theo observed.

"Is there a question in there, Theodore?"

"I'm just saying, your loyalties as a Sacred Twenty Eight daughter are wholly misplaced, and on behalf of Blaise and our wardrobes, we adore you for it."

Pansy and Blaise snickered, and we turned at the sound of Draco entering the room. He'd been speaking with his mother and the officiant, and he looked weary but still handsome as ever, in his black Tom Ford suit.

Pansy, Theo and Blaise crowded around Draco, offering tight hugs and murmurs of support. I hung back, feeling suddenly insecure like I didn't belong there. The four of them had known each other practically since birth. They had lived a whole life with Draco, and they knew the complexity of his relationship with his father better than I could ever fathom. I tried to tamp down my juvenile feeling, feeling instantly selfish. This is not about you today, you self-centred twit.

"You ready?" asked Theo, sympathy clouding his usual jovial features.

"In a moment. I just need my lady for a minute." Draco looked to where I stood awkwardly by the window. My insecurities withered slightly, and I crossed the room to him, tucking myself under his arm when he reached for me. He kissed me chastely on the lips, prompting a good-natured gagging sound from Pansy.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" he murmured. Blaise, Theo and Pansy nodded and walked out of the room. Draco looked back down at me. "You'll walk in with Pansy, alright? But I want you sitting with me."

I shook my head fervently. "No, Draco, it's not right. It's your father's funeral, and he hated me. It's disrespectful to him by sitting up front and centre. No, I'll sit at the rear."

"We can talk about what I'd like to do to your rear later," he replied, taking my chin in his hand and staring into my eyes intently. "Listen to me. I'm yours. My father would have had to get used to it if he were alive, so he, and every other fucker out there who thought like him, can deal with it now. You will walk in with Pansy, and you will sit with me and my mother, understood?"

I wanted to protest. It was against my better judgement to go along with it. Nor did I particularly love being told what do. But if this is what Draco needed from me today, then I'd go with it. Just for today. I leaned up and kissed him lightly. "Don't fucking tell me what to do." He rewarded me with a smile and a small chuckle, and he held the door open for me.

Walking hand in hand, we joined his mother and the others in the drawing-room, with the garden just beyond. I was nervous at the prospect of being in a room with a great many people that had once wanted me dead. Pansy tucked my arm in hers, her black-gloved hands grasping mine as we followed Blaise and Theo through the large French doors and into the garden. I could hear the hushed murmurs of the crowd as they registered who I was.

"Dirty mudblood!" came one harsh whisper. "What a disgrace."

Quick as a whip, Pansy drew her wand from seemingly nowhere and aimed it at the offender's temple. "Stupefy," she whispered, and the man slumped down in his seat. Several horrified gasps rang out from the congregation, and Pansy looked around. "Any questions?" she asked loudly. A wide-eyed, shocked silence followed, and we continued down the aisle without another word. Pansy led us to our seats in the front row and then turned to glare at the crowd accusingly, daring anybody to say something else. Pansy sat between Theo and Blaise, both of them acknowledging her with an approving nod.

There was a shuffle as the guests rose from their seats to await the arrival of Lucius's widow and their only child. Narcissa walked slowly on the arm of her son, her posture rigid, and her chest was held high. I could see her nails digging into Draco's arm, and as she came closer, I saw her chin quivering. Draco and his mother were so similar in the way they carried themselves, from the unyielding line of their shoulders to the proud lift of their chins. Draco guided his mother to her seat, and the officiant raised his wand to the side of his neck.

"Please be seated."

I'd attended far too many funerals for a woman of my age, but this service was one of the most surreal. Draco was oddly detached during his eulogy, beginning with a series of generic facts and details that he delivered mechanically, as though he wasn't sharing a tribute to a man he once idolised but rather was reciting a bunch of words from a page about a stranger.

"- But one's life cannot be measured by the simple facts of his existence. My father was a very proud man; never one to falter in public. He was an avid collector of wizarding artefacts and books. He was a highly skilled wizard, a committed son, an ever-loving husband, and a good – a good father," Draco said, the first signs of emotion causing him to trip over his words. "Lucius Malfoy was a man that was easy to dislike but almost impossible not to revere. He was well-respected among his peers for his dedication to wizarding excellence." Draco paused, staring down at the lectern with a frown. He looked in our direction, and I sensed Theo's encouraging nod in my periphery. Draco cleared his throat and continued.

"This dedication came at a price. His allegiance to Lord Voldemort cost him dearly." There was a ripple of hushed murmurs from the crowd.

"Where is he going with this?" whispered Pansy out the side of her mouth. I shrugged; Draco hadn't shared his speech with me.

"My father was a leader among the Death Eaters, and his loyalty may have won him the admiration of Voldemort's other followers, but it ultimately compromised his sanity. It cost him his pride, and for a while, he lost the thing he treasured the most – the respect of his family."

"Damn, son," I heard Blaise murmur.

Draco paused, his eyes scanning the crowd defiantly, only softening when they fell on his mother.

"There was one thing in Father's life that he cherished more than power, pride and supremacy - my mother. Everything Father did was for her. Even when their futures looked bleak, they were partners, and that was always worth fighting for. Mother never gave up on him. I know a little about that now." Draco's eyes found mine, and I inhaled a sharp breath. "I can't say with any real confidence that my father ever fully abandoned his beliefs, but my mother demanded better from him, and she was the one thing he was not prepared to lose. Father and I didn't always see eye-to-eye, and I had hoped that one day we could become close again. My only consolation in this time of immense grief is that Mother and I were with him when he passed. Despite our differences, he was still my father, and I did love him. He taught me a few things that I strive to remember: Be brave, confident and strong in your convictions, always be the best I can be, and listen to your mother because she is always right."

Narcissa gave a small chuckle, her ice-blue eyes glistening with tears and a sad smile on her lips.

"Anybody who knows me well would recognise that I've taken these lessons with me into adulthood." Draco's rigid posture began to falter, and he turned to face the coffin. "You taught me a lot about life and what it takes to be a good man. I know I let you down sometimes, Father, but I also hope that somewhere along the way, I made you proud. Be at peace now. I'll take care of Mum for you."

An hour later, the funeral had concluded, and with Draco occupied by mourners, each sharing their tales of the late, great Lucius Malfoy, the rest of us claimed a small table in the corner of the Manor's vast ballroom. The atmosphere was tense, which I sensed was more to do with my presence than anything. I faced the room, my back to the corner. I tried hard not to be affected by the glares and sneers from some of the other guests but felt myself shrinking further and further into my seat. The scar on my left forearm was vibrating with phantom tingles, a visceral reaction to not only being at the Manor but surrounded by so many people who once wanted me dead. I laughed inwardly and without mirth. Christ, is this how Harry felt? Pansy looked down to where I had impulsively covered my forearm.

"Hey," she said, reaching over to remove my hand. "You've got nothing to be afraid of. Everybody here knows that you're here with Draco, and no one would dare hurt you while he's around."

"Or us, for that matter," added Blaise.

"As archaic and outdated as most Sacred Twenty Eight customs and traditions are, it would be considered in abysmal taste to knock off the girlfriend of the Malfoy heir," Theo mused. "And the one thing that those born to the purple simply will not do is display bad manners."

A figure emerging from the crowd caught Pansy's attention, and her face fell. "Oh, bloody hell." She plastered a fake smile on her face and walked around the table towards the woman approaching us. "Mother dearest…"

"I'll admit, since becoming friends with Pansy, I've been curious as to what her mother is like," I said, watching with amused curiosity at the stunted interaction between the Parkinson women.

Blaise shook his head. "I'm not convinced that Pansy didn't just spawn. I think she's too self-possessed and independent to allow herself to rely on another person for survival and nourishment. Especially not someone like Yolanda."

Theo nodded. "I agree. Pansy can't stand her mother. She would despise the notion of being inside that woman's body for nine months."

"There'd have been a constant monologue about the dire state of her mother's womb and its lack of basic accoutrements, and the oppressive nature of Yolanda's internal organs being so close to her person," Blaise added, and I began laughing.

"And could you imagine Pansy's reaction to the exit strategy?" Theo said.

"'I have to come out of where, nose-down and facing my mother's what?'" Blaise exclaimed in a high-pitched imitation of Pansy.

"Exactly. She'd have rejected the whole idea based on it being completely uncouth." Theo tipped his drink in Blaise's direction. "I think Pansy just appeared in a blizzard one day. Fully formed with perfect brows and a permanent judgey face."

We were too busy laughing that I didn't notice someone approach us from the side.

"Laughing at a funeral? That's pretty poor form, don't you think?" drawled a familiar voice above me. I gazed up into Draco's face, fixed into his trademark smirk.

"Where do you think Pansy came from?" I asked him, still giggling.

"She was brought from Romania in an egg by a Weasley," he answered without hesitation, holding out his hand and pulling me to my feet. "Come on. I need to get out of here for a while."

Theo hooted and raised his glass. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached new depths of depravity: sneaking away from the funeral of one's father for clandestine sexual congress."

Blaise shook his head with mock disapproval. "Really, Draco, that's such a Theo move."

"I am not sneaking – fuck it, never mind." Draco tugged my hand, leading me through a side door. He guided me through a maze of rooms and up a marble staircase until I'd lost all sense of direction. We came to a set of double doors. A gleaming pair of silver serpents flanked an engraved silver plaque: DLM. Pushing open one of the massive black doors, Draco led me inside.

I stared in awe at his childhood bedroom - it was larger than my parent's entire house. A gigantic four-poster bed with emerald green bedding stood against one ivory coloured wall, flanked by floor to ceiling windows with heavy black drapes. A set of black French doors that opened out to a private balcony, where sat a wrought-iron table and two chairs. Opposite his bed were two more doors, and a roaring fireplace. Just beyond, I could see a separate room. Peeking in, I saw that it contained an enormous mahogany desk, and a seating area with two black Chesterfield sofas, an armchair and a coffee table on an ornate rug. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, save for two more black-draped full-length windows.

I forced my mouth to close and turned to face Draco. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his suit jacket discarded beside him. His elbows rested on his knees.

"Well, this place is a hovel," I stated drily. "No wonder you were such a little prick when you were younger. I had no idea you lived in such paltry conditions."

"It was rough, but I made it work," he replied, equally droll. He held out his hand to me, pulling me to stand between his legs and resting his forehead against my stomach. He exhaled loudly, and I ran my fingers through his hair.

"Stupid question but are you okay?" I asked. Draco's fingers were tracing small circles on the backs on my thighs, and he murmured a muffled sound against the fabric of my dress. He turned his face up to look at me, his eyes still a barren expanse of grey sea.

"Thank you for being here," he said. I bent down to kiss him, taking his face in my hands.

"And I'm not going anywhere," I assured him, and Draco smiled gratefully. He laid back on his bed and patted the mattress beside him.

"Come and lay here with me for a bit."

I put my hands on my hips. "I am not having sex with you on your childhood bed, at your father's funeral, with your mother downstairs," I hissed indignantly. Draco propped up on his elbows.

"Can't a bloke just have a cuddle without progressing to sex?" he huffed, then flopped back down on his bed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like get your head out of the bloody gutter, woman, I'm not an object. I giggled and kicked off my heels, then crawled up onto the bed beside him. He instantly curled toward me, tucking my legs between his and bringing his face near to mine. Draco closed his eyes, his dark lashes fanned softly against his cheek, and I traced my finger across the contours of his face.

"Your eulogy was nice," I murmured.

He hummed in response. "It was probably harsher than most people were expecting, but I just didn't have it in me to stand in front of those people and pretend like I still agreed with everything he stood for." He opened his eyes. "Especially not in front of you," he murmured, his eyelids fluttering closed again.

"You said he taught you how to be a good man," I said, running my finger down the bridge of his nose. I remembered wanting to do precisely this at the club the night of the cocktail party, feeling destroyed at the thought that I wouldn't ever get the chance to. Despite the unreal situation I presently found myself in – on Draco Malfoy's bed, at his family home, at his father's funeral – I had to work hard to suppress a giddy smile from splitting my face.

Draco's voice stirred me from my thoughts. "He did, by being an example of what the worst man in the world does. Lie, bribe, exploit, harm, kill -"

I placed a finger over his lips, permitting myself a small smile. I didn't want Draco to get too caught up in the choices his father made that had put him in varying degrees of danger. There was still so much for me to learn about Draco, but I knew in my heart that we were in it for the long haul. My heart swelled, and I leaned forward to press a light kiss to his lips. His eyes fluttered open, and it thrilled me to see a little life in them.

"What was that for?" he asked softly. I shrugged.

"I'd just been thinking -"

"Mmhm, I could hear it."

"- shut up, and I realised that you weren't a particularly nice little boy, but you are a good man now. And I get to kiss you whenever I like, so I did. Is that okay?"

Draco closed his eyes again, and shifted closer to me, a faint smile on his lips. "That's fine, Granger."

"Good, because I'm about to do it again." I held it longer this time, but it was Draco who deepened the kiss. His tongue teased at my bottom lip until I opened my mouth to let him in. His hand snaked around my waist, and he pulled my body flush against his. Draco's hand travelled down my hip to hitch my dress up my thigh before rolling me onto my back and settling himself on top of me. His fingers had just begun to trace the lace edge of my panties when a loud, insistent knock at the door interrupted us.

"Draco? Your mother is looking for you, so I suggest you roll that thing back up and make yourself decent," came Pansy's voice on the other side of the door. With an exasperated sigh, Draco pushed himself off the bed. I stood before him and straightened his tie.

"That's not what I need help with," he said, looking down pointedly. He was in no state to hold a polite conversation with his mother.

"Oh, right. Uh, Slughorn's sagging balls, being fondled and gargled by Flitwick in a thong," I blurted out in a rush. Draco stared at me, horrified.

"Well, it fucking worked, but did you need to go that hard?" He shrugged on his jacket and sauntered towards the door, throwing another appalled look over his shoulder at me. He opened the door to find Pansy, Theo and Blaise waiting. Pansy raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sneaking off for sex at your own father's funeral? Such a Theo move," she chided with a tsk.

"I was not sneaking – fuck it, never mind," Draco brushed past them and headed down the hallway. Pansy laughed then moved past me into the adjoining study, Theo and Blaise following behind. Theo immediately made for one of the bookshelves and proceeded to tap at several of the books.

"Behind the Tolstoy," called Blaise, from where he had sprawled out on one of the sofas.

"No, that's where Draco keeps that awful Mexican shit he likes. He keeps the good stuff behind the Dumas," Pansy replied. Theo turned and found the book he was looking for. Giving the book a tap revealed a small concealed cabinet. Theo extracted a large bottle from the cabinet and levitated it to the coffee table where Blaise had already conjured five crystal tumblers.

Once each glass had been suitably overfilled, as seemed to be Theo's M.O, Blaise raised his glass. "To Lucius. Reposi in pace, you miserable old twat."

"And if you happen to see my father in Hell, tell him I said go fuck yourself," added Theo.

"Ask him to save a seat for my mother, please," Pansy chimed in.

Draco returned from talking to his mother after about an hour to find us already well-imbibed. I was leaning against Blaise, and Draco peered down at us with an amused expression.

"Hello, my son," Blaise reached up to pat Draco's chest, and I handed him my glass with a drunken smile. "We've been drinking."

As his eyes met mine, Draco's amusement changed briefly to a look far more potent, heavy with meaning that my drunk arse couldn't interpret. He stroked my cheek. "Looks like I've got some catching up to do," he said softly. He accepted the glass and downed it without hesitation, holding out the glass to Pansy, who refilled it with a lazy wave of her wand.

The hour was late when Narcissa entered Draco's study to find five young adults passed out; the empty decanters and crystal glasses scattered across the coffee table and desk as evidence of their intoxication. She chuckled to herself as she surveyed the usual suspects in the room.

The raven-haired beauty, asleep in an armchair. On the floor was a wiry, dark-haired young man sprawled out on his back, a glass teetering precariously in his hand. A breathtakingly handsome man with skin like burnt toffee was sleeping on the sofa.

Narcissa poured herself a drink and swallowed it quickly, observing with satisfied amusement her pale-haired son with his arms wrapped tightly around the small frame of a pretty witch, his nose buried in her wild curls. Do you see that, Lucius? She's not going anywhere. Best you get used to it, my darling.

The Saturday after the funeral was a bright, sunny day, and I was meeting the girls for brunch as usual. I had spoken to Ginny briefly at the marathon, but she'd run it on her own and, after the race, left without waiting for me. I refused to let our relationship dissolve and had arranged to meet at her place before brunch. I stepped hesitantly through the Floo, apprehensive about Ginny's reaction. She was sitting on her couch with her laptop open. She barely acknowledged me and continued to tap away at the keyboard.

"Gin?" I ventured.

"What?" she replied sullenly, her eyes flickering to me tentatively. This Ginny, I knew. This wasn't angry Ginny; this was embarrassed Ginny. It softened me immediately.

"Gin," I repeated.

"I said 'what'." This time, she turned her face towards me.

"No, I meant 'gin', as in 'it's been an extremely stressful week, I need gin, have you got any?'" I answered.

She gave a small chuckle. "I heard about Lucius. I hope Malfoy's okay."

"Do you?" I asked pointedly. Ginny looked away.

"I was an arsehole," she admitted. I told her that I didn't disagree. She went on to apologise, saying that she didn't dislike Draco but, as Ron's sister, it was hard to hear that I was so caught up in a man that wasn't her brother. "But I should've just talked to you about it, instead of yelling at you the way I did. Can you forgive me?"

By this time, I was sitting on the couch with her. "You said some pretty shitty things, Gin. You called me a slut and a gold-digger."

She nodded. "I did, and I'm sorry. I won't lie and say that I didn't mean those things, because, in the heat of the moment, I meant every word. But I was wrong for thinking them. Of course, you're not a gold-digger, and, well, look at you." She gestured to me with a sweep of her hand. "You're the last one in our group that anyone would consider slutty."

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or offended by the comment, but then the cogs in my head began turning. "Well, if I'm so obviously not the slutty one in the group, who is?"

Ginny laughed, standing up. "I'm not answering that. For all I know, the bitch will somehow overhear it and threaten deforestation again, or whatever the fuck it was." Pulling me to stand, Ginny wrapped me in a hug. "I am so sorry, Hermione. I love you like a sister, and I want you to be happy. If that means you choose Malfoy, then it is what it is. I don't necessarily understand your reasons why, and it might take me some time, but I'll get used to it."

I squeezed her. "Thank you, Ginny. I love you. Even though it didn't work out with Ron, you're still my family." We stood holding each other for a few more moments before our phones simultaneously dinged several times. It was Pansy, sending thirteen separate messages.

If.

You.

Two.

Are.

Done.

Talking.

Some.

Of.

Us.

Have.

Places.

To.

Be.

"Come on," Ginny said. "The Slytherin Queen awaits."

"How did she respond to that, by the way?"

Ginny scoffed. "Please, Mione. It's Pansy. You know she loved that."

A/N: I've mapped out a plan for the final few chapters. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with my story. Please review, I love reading them.

As always, stay safe and well wherever you may be in the world. Xx