THIRTY-FIVE
Friday, 6 May 2005
While Hermione would like to think Riddle's sour attitude and the distance he kept from her were because of the Summit, she knew better. She knew it without a trace of doubt. It kept her up at night and made her already queasy stomach hard to settle. Even with the potions she summoned, nothing seemed to work. So the four days upon her return to the Manor were spent in her room rather than seeking out the library or the gardens as she normally would.
If Riddle came to their room at night, it was well after she fell asleep and he made sure to be gone before she woke. But each morning, when she stretched her arms out towards whatever side of the bed she hadn't claimed in her slumber, the sheets were cold. It was more plausible that he hadn't stepped foot into their room since his departure from Hogwarts.
As much as she treasured the time to herself, the anxiety of what would happen when he decided to come to her was enough to drive her crazy.
Still, she kept to her room and didn't seek him out. To do so would only cause a scene; one she wasn't exactly sure she was ready for. After all, she had been the one to break her word. Even before he delivered his final ultimatum; she was one at fault. Of all the things he had done to her, he had kept his every promise to her. Even the ones he hadn't sealed with magic.
Friday morning she woke to an elf informing her that one Lady Malfoy was requesting an audience with her in an hour's time. It was enough for Hermione to drag herself out of bed, take a shower, and steel her nerves a bit before leaving the room for the first time in four days. She was sure it was wedding related. Or, at least she hoped it was. She didn't want to take any chances about discussing Draco within these walls.
As she approached Narcissa's set of rooms, the doors to the connecting sitting room opened. Hermione scanned the room, taking in the sight of a garment rack and the woman who had helped fit her into her dress months ago. It was the first time she was seeing her dress since purchasing it and even if she wanted to think about it, she couldn't recall what it looked like.
"How are you feeling today, my lady?" Narcissa asked as she rose to greet her.
Hermione gave a casual roll of her shoulders and forced a smile. "Better," was the only thing she could manage that wouldn't sound like an absolute lie.
For the briefest moment, Narcissa's gaze swept down to Hermione's waist where it lingered for a split second and then rose back up. She smiled when their gazes met once more and then lifted a hand to beckon Hermione closer.
"Do you remember Miss Devereaux?" she asked, smiling when Hermione nodded. "She has brought your dress along for a fitting. From what I understand, it's nearly finished, but they want to make sure the measurements are correct."
The blonde by the garment rack gave a nod and gestured for her to stand on a round platform before her. It was then that Hermione noticed the mirrors. She hesitated as she stepped towards it. The last thing she wanted was another reminder of what she had seen in the Mirror of Erised. But she took a deep breath and pushed on. The faster she got through this, the faster she could return to her room and pretend she hadn't sighed anyone's death wish.
She vanished her clothes, replacing them with matching white set of undergarments. Her bra was strapless; she remembered that much about her dress. As she stepped onto the platform, she shifted her feet. It had been a long time since she had worn a pair of knickers. The swatch of cotton felt foreign against her skin.
Hermione faced away from the mirror so that both the designer's assistant and Narcissa could help her into the gown. She stepped into it and it went up her legs easy enough, but getting it into place over her hips and torso took a bit of effort. The assistant made notes on a clipboard, the sound of her pen scratching across the paper made Hermione cringe. But it was better than suffering the weight of Narcissa's gaze.
"We'll just need to take it out a bit, but that shouldn't be a problem," the assistant said, looking up from her notes to smile at Hermione. "We still have plenty of time and we'll have a few more fittings before the big day."
Hermione simply inclined her head and then slowly began to turn to face the mirrors. She kept her gaze down, mostly so she didn't trip on the hem of her dress. Once she was fully turned and her dress was fluffed about so she could get the best vision, she began to lift her gaze to see what it looked like.
The skirt was full, falling somewhere between a ballgown and an A-line. The material underneath was soft against the skin, giving the dress enough structure. The outside layers were made of champagne colored satin. Atop that sat a fine layer of shimmering gold silk complete with holographic gold roses and vines. The appliques faded in appearance until they all but disappeared at the natural waistline of the gown. From there, it was pure champagne satin with a sweetheart neckline that connected to two chiffon bands that cut across her biceps, acting more as decoration than sleeves.
When she met her own gaze in the mirror, she hardly even recognized herself.
And for just a second, the images of both Draco and Riddle flickered in her mind's eye. One on either side of her, a hand resting on her shoulders. She swallowed hard and looked away, hoping that if she had to glance in the mirror again, they wouldn't be there.
"Any ideas on how you'll want your hair or makeup?" Narcissa asked. "Or your jewelry?"
"Just this," Hermione replied, reaching up to brush her fingers over her necklace. "The rest I leave up to you. I've never been good at doing either."
Narcissa gave her a tight-lipped smile along with a small nod. "Very well then."
"Are we done here?" Hermione asked, looking from her to the assistant.
The blonde jumped into action and started helping Hermione out of the dress. When it was off, she retransfigured her undergarments into the dress she had been wearing upon arrival and turned to take her leave without saying a word. Instead of going back to her room, however, she made her way to the kitchens. She wasn't all that hungry, but she knew if she didn't eat something, she would get twice as sick.
As usual, the elves glanced bowed at her when she entered and offered her whatever it was that she wanted. She declined politely and helped herself to a small variety of fruit, almonds, and some slices of cheese. Having summoned a plate to put it on, she thanked the elves for their hard work and crept back up to her room.
After curling up at the window seat; the plate balanced on her lap, she went about centering her thoughts and hardening her Occlumency walls. At least until her stomach revolted against the food she had just ingested and had her on her knees before the toilet yet again.
At some point that afternoon, Hermione had dragged herself back into the room and curled up on the bed. It was where she was laying when she heard the door snap shut and when she opened her eyes, having jolted out of sleep, Riddle was perched in one of the lounging chairs. He had his elbows on his knees, his palms flat together, the tips of his fingers resting at his chin.
"A-any news on those that-"
"Stop."
The flat anger of his voice sent shivers down her spine as she carefully sat up.
"If you cared, you would not have stayed hidden here for the past few days. You would have been at my side trying to fix this."
Her expression soured. "I haven't been feeling well. You know that."
"Take a potion then."
"I have been," she implored. "Nothing works."
He looked at her then and for the briefest moment, concern blazed in his eyes. But it was gone before she could blink and he looked away again. "Seven years and you have never gotten sick."
Hermione's legs hooked over the side of the bed as she got to her feet; arms crossed over her chest. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"
He was silent a moment before he rose to his feet. There was something sinister in the fluidity of his movement and as he turned towards her, Hermione swallowed hard. This was it. This was the moment she had come to dread, but knew was inevitable.
"There will be no accusation, Hermione. Only facts."
Her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat.
"You broke our deal. You went to Draco, time and time again. I even told you that I knew and still I gave you the chance to make it right. No sooner did I give you a final choice, you defiled what was left of my trust in you."
His hand rose up, his fingers curling around her chin. She stiffened as she waited for what she knew would be the next step. She just wasn't so sure she would be able to fight him off this time.
"I saw you," he bit out. "The night before the Summit." His hold tightened slightly. "You told me you were feeling under the weather, just as you have been all week. I felt concerned enough to leave my own event; arguably one of the most important ones I have ever held, so that I could check on you." He stretched her neck, making it hard to swallow. "I found you," he murmured. "But not in our quarters where you said you would be, no. You went to the potion's classroom. To him."
"I didn't know he would be there," she whispered in fear.
"It matters not."
He shoved her away and she nearly lost her balance. Had she not been so close to the bed, she would have fallen. As it was, she used the posts of the bed to catch herself.
"I heard everything that transpired between the two of you. I saw it with my own two eyes. After everything I have done for you, you still plan on choosing him."
"I-"
Her voice caught in her throat as he held out his right hand. As he turned his wrist, palm towards the ceiling, a yellow rose appeared. It shimmered into view as though he had conjured it from thin air. Just as the way she did when she used her Grey magic.
"H-how?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
He looked at her over the rose; his eyes as dark as storm clouds. "I have not needed access to your magic in quite some time. Everything that drew me to you in the beginning was just an added bonus; a sign that we could do great things together." He tossed the rose at her feet and the moment it landed on the floor, a dozen others appeared. "I tried to make it clear that I wanted you, Hermione. Not your magic."
Hermione's chest began to rise and fall in rapid succession as her lungs refused to hold air for longer than a second.
"I was foolish to think you might have chosen me. I was right in my belief that so long as Draco lives, I will never be enough for you."
Her eyes snapped up to his then as fear made her legs threaten to give out.
He approached her once more, his hand rising so his index finger could trace the side of her jaw. "You would do well to remember everything I did for you. Everything you did for me. Everything we have done together."
She felt his magic seep into her, spreading through her like fire. Hers tried to fight back, but whatever was wrong with her was affecting her magical core. He pulled her to him; his hold tightening with each second that passed.
Soon the room begin to spin and when her vision cleared, she realized he had brought them to the cellar. She hadn't felt the pull of Apparation and that alone terrified her. Not only did he have the Grey magic without her help, but he had better control of it.
When he stepped away from her, she collapsed without something to hold onto. She stared up at him from the center of the cell he had brought them too; watching as he moved to stand outside the bars. "You say you wanted to be my equal; a true queen," he said, eyes glimmering with anger, even in the severe lack of light. "Yet at every turn you have acted the opposite."
Hermione swallowed hard. It was easy to guess where he was going with this, given where they were.
"If you want to claim you are a prisoner, fine. Perhaps I should start treating you like one."
She dug down deep, trying her hardest to get even the most remote flicker of her magic to cooperate. It was like trying to grab ahold of water with her bare hands; always slipping through her grasp.
"You might have chosen Draco, but you are mine," he said, waving his hand so the door to her cell clicked into the place. The clang of the lock resonated throughout the room and made her flinch. "And if I cannot have you, neither can he."
She felt his magic flare to life around her, surrounding the cell to keep her in place. Even if she hadn't been weakened by whatever was plaguing her, she knew without a doubt that she would never have been strong enough to break free. Instead, she sat there and watched him walk away, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop him.