Chapter 6 - Scarlet
Hermione inspected the wedding band one last time, turning it around with her fingers as she pursed her lips in contemplation.
The solid black ring was made of tungsten carbide, an inexpensive alternative to gold, platinum or silver but also the hardest metal on earth.
It had been hers. She had used the monetary reward that came with her Order of Merlin First Class to buy the ring for herself. One of the very first purchases she had made with her own earnings.
Hermione had magically resized it for Malfoy after owling him for his ring size.
She felt a strange sort of satisfaction — almost like schadenfreude — at the thought of Draco Malfoy wearing a hand-me-down for years to come, certainly a first for a Malfoy.
She tucked the ring in the shallow pockets of her burgundy dress and lifted her head to stare at herself in the mirror. A brief, almost self-pitying impulse told her to wear something white instead. This was her wedding day after all, and who knew if she'd get another.
Her pragmatism buried that thought the second it reared its fanciful head.
Hermione scoffed at herself in the mirror.
A wedding. More like a mere skeleton of one.
She slipped on her heels — not four inch stilettos this time — and made for the fireplace. She had owled Hornby that she would not be turning in that day. Curiously, there had been no return owl with a response, but she chalked it up to Hornby just being glad she wouldn't have to deal with Hermione on a Saturday. She hadn't seen her boss since their altercation in her office.
Emerging from one of the atrium fireplaces, she squared her shoulders and strode towards the registry office. Paranoia made her flick her eyes about, searching for anyone who might be watching her, anything that would indicate that the knowledge of her iminent wedding to Malfoy had leaked somehow.
No one spared her a glance as she crossed the large hall.
She breathed in both relief and fortitude, pressing a hand to her stomach to ease the slight queasiness she felt. Malfoy had promised her that she would not have to deal with a public fallout. So far he had kept his word.
The registry office was closed. A sign outside the double doors warned others that a dark artefact had accidentally activated during its registration and the office would be sealed till Monday while they contained the object.
Hermione knew better.
She made sure no one was loitering around before disillusioning herself and slipping inside. She cast a finite as soon as the doors closed behind her.
A smile broke out on her face at the sight before her. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini stood before the marriage registration room, conversing with each other.
"Theo," she called, moving towards him, a warmth blooming in her chest at his familiar presence on a daunting day.
He turned sharply at her voice, a smiling matching hers spreading on his face as he left Zabini to meet her halfway.
"Looking good, Malfoy," he teased, taking one of her outstretched hands to squeeze it with his own, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Who would have thought this day would come? Not me."
She pinched his wrist with her free hand, making him yelp and drop his hold. "Watch it. It's still Granger."
"How did he manage to convince you to take his name anyway?" he asked, rubbing at his wrist with a pout.
"There was bargaining involved," she muttered distractedly as she glanced past him to Zabini, who was silently watching their exchange with a frown on his face.
Hermione had remained friendly with Theo after he had helped her at the Battle of Hogwarts, but that had been the only cordial relationship with a Slytherin that she had maintained.
She remembered Zabini as being reserved and arrogant at school. Stories of his infamous mother and her string of dead husbands had churned the rumour mill often. Apart from being in the same year, she hadn't had much interaction with him before or after the war.
But he was her soon-to-be husband's friend. Better to start this off on the right foot.
She stepped forward and held out her hand for a handshake. "Zabini."
He didn't move at all, just stared at her with distaste clear in his dark eyes. She shuffled her feet, feeling awkward with her hand raised in the air as Zabini crossed his arms across his chest in a stance that couldn't have meant "fuck off" more clearly if he had actually said the words.
"How are—"
He interrupted her inane question about his well being with a sneer. The vitriol on his face was so intense and startling Hermione almost took a step back.
His voice was low and threatening. "You ruined his life and you expect me to exchange pleasantries with you?"
Her hand flopped to her side as she gaped at him, stupefied. What the hell was he talking about?
"Blaise," Theo hissed, a warning note in his voice as he moved to stand behind her protectively, resting a gentle hand on her back. "Shut the fuck up."
At that moment, the door to the marriage registry room swung open and Malfoy walked out with the registrar. The two of them were conversing in hushed tones. The registrar looked unnerved while Malfoy was his usual stoic self.
The portly man beside him occupied Malfoy's attention, as a result he didn't immediately notice the tense stand-off between his friends and his fiancée.
And before he could, Theo astutely stepped forward and grasped Zabini's arm to drag him inside the room Malfoy had just exited.
Hermione stood there, perplexed. Anger slowly simmered within her at Zabini's strange accusation. If he meant that she had ruined Malfoy's life because she was pregnant then she was going to maim him, any pretence at civility be damned.
Her fury tempered as Malfoy approached, providing a perfect distraction in his dark suit beneath long black wizarding robes which billowed behind him like a cape as he moved.
Hermione appreciated that he didn't stand on ceremony and wear traditional robes from head to toe. It made her feel better about her simple dress. Although now that she thought about it, she had rarely ever seen him in traditional garb post-Hogwarts. He was all sleek lines and sharp angles with his perfectly tailored suits.
Hermione was musing about his preference for muggle formal wear when his eyes landed on her.
Malfoy raised a finger to stop the registrar mid-speech. The older man was quick on the uptake and retraced his steps back inside the registry room, leaving them both alone.
"Are you okay?" were the first words out of his mouth as he came to stand before her, peering down at her with eyes intent on cataloguing every subtle nuance of her expression.
He turned his head to glance back suspiciously at where he came from. "Did something happen?"
Softening her features to mask whatever he saw in her face, she impulsively reached out to clutch his forearm, making him look back at her in surprise.
"It's just pre-wedding jitters," she gave him a half-truth. "You told your friends."
Malfoy studied her for a few seconds before speaking. "We need two witnesses for the ceremony. Should I not have told them?"
"No, no." She shook her head, she knew about the requirement for two witnesses from the couple's side and two from the Ministry's side to solemnise a marriage. "I understand. I haven't told any of my friends yet."
Hermione put Zabini's words on the back burner, there were other things to prioritise right now. Like how she was going to go through the next half hour without blacking out from nerves. And how she was going to deal with the aftermath of deciding to tie herself to Malfoy so permanently.
"I figured." Malfoy covered her hand with his own, making her jolt a little at his cold touch. He rubbed her skin lightly with his thumb and she found that it helped center her enough to focus on nothing but that tiny point of contact between them.
She breathed out.
"I have taken every measure to make this as off the record as possible, but I can't change the requirement for two Ministry sanctioned witnesses. Not without tampering with the legality of the ceremony," he whispered, bending his head slightly to her level. "Minutes after we're done here, rumours are going to fly. I would have paid the witnesses for their silence, but we have delayed the inevitable long enough."
Hermione nodded. "I will tell Harry, Ginny and — erm, Ron, straight after leaving here. You're right, I can't delay it any longer."
She'd been taking off her engagement ring whenever she went out, putting it back on after she was in the safe confines of her apartment. She hadn't seen any of her friends since Ginny had visited her that first day after her ill-fated cafeteria meeting with Malfoy. She had deliberately sequestered herself the past week, not sure if she could face them knowing just how much she was keeping from them.
It wasn't cowardice, it was common sense.
If she told them what she was about to do they would never let her go through with it. Best to deal with it after the fact, when they couldn't do anything to sway her decision. They were a bunch of Gryffindors, they couldn't help but dive in and try to "rescue" her from her own self, thinking they knew what was best for her.
Malfoy shot down her plans. "No, I need you to come with me to the Manor first. We need to change the wards."
His use of 'we' struck her as odd, but she just questioned, "Today?"
In one swift motion he tightened his hand around hers to yank her closer, making her other hand land on his chest as her breath hitched. He lowered his head to whisper in her ear. "You told me you don't want to go there. I'm making sure we get past all the big hurdles in one day."
Like ripping off a band-aid.
Hermione didn't voice the muggle saying because she felt incapable of speaking. There was a hair's breadth of space between his lips and the shell of her ear. His warm breath made her want to close that distance and savour the feel of his lips on her skin.
It had been so long, she almost craved it.
Malfoy pulled back before she could act on the insane impulse. There was a slight tilt to his lips as he took her hand and began walking towards the room, pulling a dazed Hermione along. "It's almost ten. Let's get this over with."
The actual ceremony was over so quickly, it left her feeling like the days worth of stress and dread leading up to it had been for nothing.
The registrar was authorised to act as the ceremony official. In the presence of Theo and Zabini as well as two wide-eyed Ministry witnesses, he officiated a simple hand-fasting ritual. Using his wand he bound her and Malfoy's hands together in glowing, delicate silver and gold threads which symbolised their magic. After that, he recited the standard homily about love, faithfulness and two souls coming together for the preservation and prosperity of magical bloodlines.
Hermione had her share of reservations about the whole thing.
There was no such thing as love between them, they had negotiated how long they should remain "faithful" just a few days ago. The part about preservation and prosperity of magic had always irked her in other weddings she had attended as well. It reeked of traditional sentimentalities about perpetuating pure bloodlines.
But none of it mattered. This was a chore they needed to get done with, a means to an end.
After they recited the vows to each other, the registrar declared them married, inviting them and the witnesses to sign their names in the registry book and on the marriage certificate.
Hermione had never been more thankful that Wizarding wedding ceremonies didn't necessarily require the couple to kiss.
If she was weak-kneed at him just whispering in her ear, she couldn't possibly have kissed Malfoy in front of an audience without embarrassing herself.
Theo and Zabini left after doing their part, the former giving her a comforting smile — which she automatically returned — and a pat on her head before walking out.
Hermione barely registered their departure, having difficulty comprehending that she was now a married woman.
Hermione glanced up, fascinated, at Malfoy.
At her husband.
He was saying something to the registrar, too low to reach her ears. Judging by the awed expression on the short man, it was likely a promise to compensate him handsomely for his cooperation and discretion.
With a bow to her husband — which made her twitch with unease — the registrar left.
"Are you ready?" Malfoy asked her, gesturing towards the exit.
Hermione glanced down, her new wedding band sparkled in all its diamond encrusted glory next to the engagement ring on her finger. Malfoy now sported her black tungsten ring on his own left hand.
"Yeah," she breathed.
She hadn't known what to expect when they would step out in public as a married wizard and witch for the first time.
But it wasn't this.
Rumours did fly fast. It hadn't even been half an hour.
Hermione briefly wondered if those Ministry witnesses had sent frantic howlers to every department, over-eager to share such sensational gossip as a Malfoy marrying a muggleborn, that too the war heroine sort.
The atrium was packed, more so than usual. One would think everyone had gathered to witness Merlin himself coming back to life.
Was her personal life really so interesting as to warrant leaving work and standing idly about for a glimpse of…? Of what?
Every eye was on them as they walked across the large hall, their steps in sync with each other.
No, it wasn't her personal life per se. It was the fact that it was Draco Malfoy walking beside her.
She spied one of her co-workers beside the Ministry Munchies stand, gaping at her with a Danish pastry frozen halfway to his mouth.
"Everyone is staring," she mumbled the obvious.
"Did you expect anything else?" he asked, the epitome of poise and composure, like he was in his element getting stared down by hundreds of people. "The press is here too. Try to relax, I'm sure you don't want to see yourself looking petrified in the papers tomorrow."
Her spine straightened immediately, head held high and eyes narrowing dangerously at whoever didn't move away fast enough from their path. "I'm not scared."
Hermione felt a distinct but distinguishable vanity at so many people gawking at her in awe. Most of them just looked gobsmacked, but she saw amazement and admiration aimed their way as well.
She felt powerful beside him, commanding so much attention so easily.
Nobody dared to stop them as they reached the fireplaces. In fact, the semi-crowd parted for them like the Red Sea.
Hermione moved to step inside first but Malfoy's hand circling her wrist stopped her. She turned around to look up at him in confusion.
Right then and there, in front of everyone who was anyone in the Ministry, as well as most of the British wizarding population judging by the way purple smoke went up with each rapid flash of the cameras around them, Malfoy raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
Hermione's mouth opened in a silent gasp. She searched his eyes for something, maybe a fleeting emotion let slip by his Occlumency that would let her know that he had done this for himself.
She shouldn't have bothered, he let her know his intentions the next second.
"There." He dropped her hand, ushering her inside the fireplace. "Give them something to gawk at."
Right.
Hermione was so lost in her thoughts it took her a minute to realise that she was standing inside one of the Manor's many fireplaces. She stepped out and another roar of flames followed, letting her know of his presence behind her.
Except for the enormous fireplaces lining each wall, the large Floo-room almost resembled a ballroom
She'd been here before, on the arm of her ex-boyfriend and with her friends, attending the parties Malfoy threw. She had never come to Malfoy Manor on her own.
Not even then…
Hermione took a deep steadying breath. She could do this.
Suddenly, he was there, a gentle hand on the small of her back as he gazed down at her with a surprisingly open expression.
"It's alright. I'll take you outside to change the wards and then we'll go to the greenhouse for tea. We won't remain inside for even one minute," he assured, as attuned to her senses as ever.
How could he be so imperturbable himself yet perceive every change of emotion in her in a second? He had done that back at the registration office too, after her strange exchange with Zabini.
Maybe she needed to take a page out of his book and learn Occlumency. He might stop reading her like an open book then.
Hermione nodded, letting him lead her outside.
She put all her focus on his steady steps, half-closing her eyes and letting her vision blur till she could only make out the outline of her husband in front of her, and not the portraits, heirloom tapestries, tall windows and doors passing by.
She knew he chose the quickest way out because they arrived at the large double doors of the entrance in no time.
As they took the wide marble steps down to the flagstone pathway, Hermione let her gaze wander around.
There was a marble fountain in the middle of the four pathways which bisected the gardens in neat squares. She spied a gazebo overrun with purple wisteria in the distance, white peacocks roaming the banks of the calm lake behind it. Lines of pine trees comprised the boundaries on either side and she knew — thanks to a guest at a department event intent on gossiping about the Malfoy wealth — that acres of magical woodland had existed behind the Manor since before it's construction in the early 12th century.
All part of the Malfoy estate.
It struck her then. Other people knew more about her husband's home than she did.
Malfoy stopped before the fountain, facing her as he took out his wand from inside his right sleeve.
"This part would usually be accompanied by a reception," he said, gesturing for her to take out her wand as well. "Changing the wards after a wedding to accept the new bride has been a pureblood tradition for centuries."
"I'm not a pureblood," Hermione replied automatically. "So do we really need to do…whatever this is?"
Malfoy gave her a dark look. "I have no intention to ask you to live here, but I'm not going to make the Manor treat you like a stranger if you do decide to come here in the future."
Hermione frowned. "Make the Manor? What do you mean?"
He regarded the majestic five story early medieval gothic mansion with a thoughtful expression. "The Manors owned by old families always have their own ancestral magic. You can see them as living, breathing sentient structures which know who occupies them at any given time."
She grimaced. "That's creepy."
He ignored her jibe. "The ancestral magic protects the members of the magical family which owns the estate. Not just physically, emotionally as well."
Hermione's inner academic reared its head.
She knew the basics of ancestral blood magic but she had no idea just how far reaching its power could be. Everything she had gleaned had been from banned or out-of-print textbooks from the restricted section of the Hogwarts library.
It wasn't like any pure-blood had been eager to tell a muggleborn all their family secrets. Ron didn't count, she doubted the Burrow was protected by the kind of magic Malfoy was talking about.
"Is this dark magic?" she asked, sceptically.
It wasn a perfectly reasonable question. Pure-blood families loved to dabble in the dark arts. Especially the Malfoys.
Malfoy raised a patronising brow at her. "Just because a spell is old and pureblood, doesn't mean it's always dark, Granger."
She blushed. "Okay. How does it work?"
"A lot like shield charms actually. I'm sure you are proficient in those."
She nodded. When she, Harry and Ron were on the camping trip from hell she had made liberal use of shield charms of all kinds.
Malfoy took a breath in, as if bracing for her reaction to whatever he was about to say. "The old incantation invoked purity, wealth and heirs—"
He hadn't even finished the sentence and Hermione was already shaking her head furiously. "No." Her voice was resolute. "You can forget about it. I'm not doing this."
"Let me finish," he said, a tinge of exasperation in his voice. "Through considerable trial and error I was able to change it to an incantation which would not mention purity at all. Instead I found a close enough alternative which would fool the ancestral magic into accepting you."
Hermione crossed her arms, still not convinced. "But the Manor still wouldn't accept me because of my blood."
"It will accept you," he said with no hesitation. "The only hurdle was the incantation. Evidently, my ancestors didn't think there would ever be need for anything more," he drawled dryly.
Hermione snorted. "They surely didn't expect you, huh?"
Malfoy smiled devilishly. "No, the fools didn't."
Hermione was pleasantly surprised to hear him call those of his esteemed bloodline fools, but she didn't voice it. "Fine. What's the new incantation?"
Malfoy stepped back from her, raising his left hand to point his hawthorn at the grey sky.
"Domum Divitiae Heredis."
A single bolt of white lightning shot from the tip of his wand towards the sky, colliding with an invisible barrier about hundred metres in the air. A burst of white sparks exploded outwards, flowing out in a dome shape down towards the Manor's boundaries.
It reminded Hermione of the protective shields Flitwick had used over Hogwarts during the final battle.
"Family, Wealth and Heirs." Hermione looked back at Malfoy, impressed . "You changed blood purity to family."
He shrugged. "It was a close enough match."
Not quite. But Hermione didn't comment on that.
"What just happened?" she asked instead.
"This time? Nothing. The spell only works if the newly wed husband and wife cast it together."
"What will happen once we do?"
Malfoy was silent for a while, watching her closely. "You'll see," he answered at last.
Hermione took a step back.
He was essentially asking her to trust him. She did not. Not even a little bit.
But she was willing to extend an olive branch. Her one and final gesture of acknowledging the new relation between them.
Hermione relaxed her stance and nodded. She raised her vine to point at the sky, just like he had done.
"We need to do this together." Malfoy raised his wand as well. "On the count of three?"
She steadied her hand. "Alright."
He counted and at three they both intoned the incantation in unison.
"Domum Divitiae Heredis!"
Twin white bolts shot out of their wands, colliding with the invisible wards in the sky and making a rain of sparks go down in all directions, like a magnificent firework.
The brilliant flash of light lingered for a few seconds, almost blinding in its intensity. When gloomy daylight returned, for a few moments nothing happened, making Hermione throw a puzzled look at Malfoy.
But then she felt it. A sort of warmth from within her.
She looked down at her body, letting out a startled yelp at the incandescent glow that somehow encapsulated her.
"Don't fret," Malfoy reassured in a soothing voice. "It'll go away in a second."
As her initial surprise ebbed, she got to know exactly what Malfoy was referring to.
She didn't feel the faint anxiety that constantly lingered at the back of her mind whenever she was at the Manor.
Hermione felt like…almost like…she was at home.
The conviction to never go near that cursed drawing room was still there, but it suddenly didn't seem as daunting as before. Like not going back to the place where she was tortured would be a choice that she would make and not something external. Something out of her control that she absolutely had to comply with.
"What…how?" She was speechless.
"The Manor recognises you now," he said. There was a strange inflection in his voice. He stepped in front of her and she met his mellow eyes.
"It recognises that you're my wife."
Hermione suppressed a very telling shiver.
He hesitated a little before speaking next. "It recognises that you're carrying the Malfoy heir."
She flitted her eyes away from his, warmth blooming in her cheeks as she struggled to process what he was telling her.
"And that changes things how?" she asked.
Malfoy pushed his hands in his pockets and gave a nonchalant shrug. "As the Lady of the Manor you'll have access to every hidden room, every warded book or artefact, every secret passageway. You'll be able to come and go as you please. Additionally, now you have some very creative abilities to throw out unwanted intruders with a snap of your fingers."
Hermione gaped at him and the cavalier way he was essentially telling her that she could cast spells exclusive to the Malfoy family now.
"Really?" The disbelief was clear in her voice.
Malfoy smirked. "I believe there is a book in the Manor's library compiled by a judicious great-grandfather. It contains all the secrets this place has ever had. Also all the spells unique to it."
"You're telling me there were spells invented just to be used inside this place?!" she almost shrieked in excitement.
He pursed his lips to not laugh at her enthusiasm. "You just used one."
The Malfoy library. How could she forget? It was one of the biggest magical libraries in Britain.
Maybe she would take Malfoy up on his words and visit now and then, now that her anxiety was no longer eating away at her.
As she was making plans for future visits inside her head, Malfoy gently took her elbow to guide her to the gardens.
Towards the left of the main building and hidden almost completely by the pine trees, was a huge greenhouse with a glass dome and windows at the top, currently opened to let in sunlight and air.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as they stepped inside. She walked forward, leaving Malfoy behind.
It was like she had entered another realm. Plants she had never seen before and some which she had only read about in herbology books covered the place in neat oval enclosures with streams of water separating them.
A glass pathway ran up the centre of the greenhouse, so transparent she could see the colourful fishes swimming in the water beneath it.
Butterflies fluttered around freely, their wings sparkling so brightly it had to be an enchantment.
Right in the middle of the greenhouse was a circular stone island, devoid of any flowering plants or streaming water, with a centre table and some wicker armchairs and loveseats, clearly meant for taking tea.
Hermione turned in a circle taking in everything she could. Everytime her eyes landed on something new. She internally named the plants she recognised.
Baneberry, Angel's Trumpet, Asphodel, Dittany, Moondew, Nightshade.
Malfoy walked towards the centre space and she followed.
"How do you maintain this place?" she asked, making no attempt to hide the wonderment in her voice.
He looked her right in the eye and snapped his fingers.
An ancient looking house elf immediately appeared beside them.
All of her amazement vanished in a second.
Hermione looked at Malfoy scathingly. "Really?" she bit out.
She couldn't believe it but what the hell else had she been expecting?
For Malfoy to give up his comforts just because he was helping her on a house elf legislation for his own gain?
She had married a hypocrite.
Malfoy ignored her, instead turning to the elf who seemed to be giving a scowl of his own to his master.
"Eeyore, can you get us tea?"
Hermione scoffed at his polite tone, but she was surprised he was asking and not demanding.
Her surprise turned into pure bewilderment when the elf — who looked older than the Manor itself — answered, "No," and crossed his arms imperiously, looking down his hooked nose at her husband.
Malfoy stared at the creature blanky.
A few seconds passed. Hermione's eyes swung between master and elf, they seemed to be having a staring match of some sort.
After what seemed like minutes, but could very well have been seconds, Malfoy grit out, "Please," giving in.
Her jaw dropped.
Eeyore rubbed his chin and gave Malfoy owlish eyes, seemingly contemplating whether to oblige or not.
"Alright," he grumbled, like Malfoy had put the weight of the world on his droopy little shoulders. He Disapparated with a pop.
Hermione was sure she was in a fever dream, an alternate reality.
Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Eeyore is not my house elf."
"I can tell," she muttered, amazed. "Whose house elf is he?"
"Nott's."
Her brows raised. "Theo's?"
He gave her a brief unreadable look at her use of his friend's first name, but otherwise didn't comment on it.
"He sold the Nott Manor after the war. His whole family is dead and he had no use for the place," he explained. "Eeyore refused to work at Hogwarts as a free elf, like the other Nott house elves. He considers it beneath him to serve anywhere but an old family household."
Hermione couldn't help the smile that tugged at her mouth. "So, you what? Adopted him?"
Malfoy shot her a glare. "No. He was going to become a houseless house elf. I just gave him another place to work at."
Eeyore Apparated in with another pop. He took two steps towards the table and thwacked down what looked to be a hastily arranged tea service, Apparating away a second later, not bothering to ask if they needed anything else.
The laugh that broke out of her was involuntary, she couldn't suppress it even if she tried.
"Work is a strong word," she managed to comment in between giggles.
Malfoy watched her with a remarkably open expression, a kind of softness around his eyes. "Eeyore is a free elf, and so are the other two house elves I have. They get paid for their…" he trailed off, throwing an unsure glance at the tea service on the table, with its mismatched teapot and cups, "...services," he finished, reluctantly.
It was like he was trying to make her laugh.
While she guffawed he moved towards the chairs.
The breath she was trying to catch abruptly got stuck in her throat when he shrugged off his robes, revealing his dark suit jacket beneath. She coughed as he took that off as well, leaving him in a white button down.
"Do you need water?" he asked as he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves, staring at her in concern.
"No," she replied, rather too quickly.
She made herself look at the table instead, stepping forward to sit gingerly on one of the chairs.
She decided a distraction was in order.
"You called me Granger."
The non-sequitur had him tensing for a second, before he took the chair across from her.
"Earlier," she explained, glancing up at him. "You insisted that I take your surname but you still called me Granger."
"You will always be Granger to me."
She scowled. "Then what was the point of the condition?"
He gave her a devious smile. He didn't answer her, not directly. Par for the course for him.
"Do you really expect me to call you Malfoy with a straight face, Granger?"
She crossed her arms. "But the rest of the world can?"
"Precisely." He reached forward to fix her a cup, surprising her when he used the exact amount of sugar and milk she usually took. He must have made a note of that during their meeting at Heartsease.
As he placed the cup before her she noted the distinct aroma of ginger and mint in the air.
She went still.
It was ginger and mint tea, something she had been recommended for her morning sickness. She had switched to taking it daily to ease the queasiness she often felt, not wanting to get dependent on potions.
Hermione watched him calmly make a cup for himself, as if he wasn't making himself drink a downright medicinal beverage just for her sake.
But then he spoke, "Besides, Granger suits your swotty personality perfectly."
Her grip tightened on the handle of her cup as she lifted it. "You told me that there is a whole book about magic only you and I can use and I haven't asked you to bring me to your gigantic library once yet."
He watched her take a sip, leaning back in his chair when Hermione gave him a nod of approval. Despite the mismatched look and the hasty delivery of the tea service from Eeyore, the temperature was perfect and so was the taste. It helped settle her stomach immediately.
"I was wondering when you would bring that up again."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I won't—"
"Because it's yours now," he cut her off smoothly, idly swirling the spoon in his cup without once touching the sides. He sometimes looked and acted so aristocratic, it left Hermione feeling about as graceful as a bull in a china shop. "You don't have to ask me to bring you anywhere in the Manor. You're free to come and go as you please."
Hermione looked away, fidgeting with the cup in her lap.
She was loath to express weakness. She didn't want him to know that she was asking for his presence, that she needed it.
Even with all he'd done to make her feel at ease at his home — the wards and the beautiful indoor garden — she didn't think she was ready to explore the Manor by herself yet.
More than any remedy he could think of, his presence here grounded her in a sort of comfort that any magic or pretty scenery could never match.
Just like that evening when he had found her in one of his study rooms.
As she mused about how to bring up her dilemma without sounding needy, some bright red flowers planted close to one of the water streams caught her wandering eyes.
Hermione tilted her head in thought. She couldn't recognise them.
Granted, the extent of her Herbology knowledge was not as far reaching as some other subjects, but she could still identify most other plants in the greenhouse easily.
This one caught her attention because of the intense scarlet colour and pointy shape of the flower petals. They looked like roses but not quite.
She sought to satisfy her curiosity.
"What are those flowers?" she asked, pointing her chin toward where her gaze was still trained. "I've never seen them before."
In her peripheral vision she sensed Malfoy turn his head in the same direction. "That's because there are only three samples of the Middlemist Red in the world."
Hermione glanced back at him sharply. "Only three?"
He nodded. "One in New Zealand, one in London and one here. Middlemist Reds are extinct in the wild and they're hard to grow because they're very ornery plants. Even the slightest change in their environment can make them dry up. Something as simple as the breeze blowing in a different direction."
"Then how come you were able to grow it?"
Malfoy looked back at her, reaching for his tea as he spoke to her over the cup. "I didn't. New Zealand's Ministry gave it to me as a gift," he said, flippantly.
Hermione opened her mouth to ask the next obvious question.
What had he done that warranted such a show of gratitude as giving away one of the only three samples of a very rare plant?
His narrowed eyes and set jaw stopped her.
He expected the question and he wasn't going to answer it.
Maybe she was getting adept at reading him too, despite his Occlumency. Although, she suspected he only utilised Occlumency when it benefited him. On other occasions letting his intentions show on his face saved him the trouble of verbally cutting others down.
There was no need to speak when just a death glare and the muscle ticking in his jaw could shut people up.
She switched to a more agreeable line of questioning. "Does it have any uses other than decorating gardens?"
She glanced back at the blooming scarlet flowers. "They look really beautiful."
When he didn't say anything for a few moments, she looked at him in puzzlement. Was this question off limits too?
The expression on his face gave her pause.
He was staring behind her with vacant eyes, deep in thought as he reminisced something with a mysterious smile playing on his lips.
"Malfoy?" she called.
His pupils came back into focus and he blinked. "They're used to make one of the rarest potions in the world. The Rubrum Ignius."
Hermione sat up straight in her chair, setting her cup on the table. "What does the potion do?" she asked, eagerness clear in her voice.
There was a pause as he searched her eyes, for all intents and purposes still looking like he was lost in his own thoughts.
When he finally answered her, the smile that stretched on his face made chills dance down her spine.
And not the pleasant kind.
"One drop of the potion can burn away the drinker from the inside. It eats at the flesh so agonizingly slowly, the pain from it is said to be ten times worse than a cruciatus." His voice was mellifluous and at odds with the picture he painted.
Hermione couldn't move. Her thoughts were blank as she watched him explain the potion to her in what could only be described as ill-concealed delight.
No, not ill-concealed. He wasn't trying to hide it from her.
"What's more, it takes hours for the potion to completely disintegrate a body. Hours of torment so hellish the drinkers take their own lives most of the time. Of course," he paused, holding his hand out like he was delivering a school lecture and not explaining the finer points of death-by-torture from a potion. "That's if the one who administers the potion lets the drinker kill themselves. But that would defeat the point, wouldn't it?"
He asked the question as if they were discussing the merits of something as commonplace as a calming drought, not a lethal torture-poison.
"But the best part about it is that it leaves no evidence behind," he said. "It burns a body out of existence till there's nothing left. Not even ashes."
Hermione could understand academic excitement, she was herself always eager to learn more. But the look on Malfoy's face wasn't that. There was nothing detached, clinical or... harmless about it.
"The best part?" she repeated, not knowing what else to say.
Malfoy blinked, his usual indifference taking over him like a mask. Like well worn robes.
"It's practical in theory. Chinese soldiers used to frequently use the potion for assassinating their enemies before over plucking made the plant go extinct in the wild.
Hermione breathed out. "Is there an antidote?"
"No," he answered.
"Are you making one?"
Maybe that's why he seemed so into the whole thing. He was a potions master, a poison without an antidote would be like a puzzle to solve.
He gave her an amused look. "Why would I do that?"
Hermione stuttered, "Why not? What's the purpose of having them then?"
The crooked smile was back, this time with a hint of mischievousness to it. "For purely ornamental reasons of course. Like you said, they're quite beautiful to look at."
Hermione couldn't tell if he was pulling her leg or not. He must be, he loved to tease her for her drive to push everything for a greater good.
She was about to tell him to stop playing games with her but he cut off her train of thought.
"Do you need me to warm that up?" He gestured towards her forgotten cup of tea on the table.
"I-" She reached for it, finding the cup cold. "Yes."
Hermione held it out as Malfoy reached for his wand with his left hand, the action catching her attention.
He had signed their marriage certificate with his left hand too.
Now that she thought about it, he always kept his wand holstered up his right sleeve and used his left to cast spells.
Had his left arm always been his wand arm?
She tried to recall back to their Hogwarts days but she couldn't quite remember the detail.
She was still staring at his hand when he started to flick it to warm her cup wordlessly.
Before he could complete the charm, the cup slipped from her grip and she let out a gasp. Tea splashed on her skin as the delicate china shattered on the ground so loudly it made her heart almost leap out of her chest in alarm.
But she didn't pay it any mind. Her eyes were firmly on his arm.
"Granger!" There was anger in his voice as he stared her down. "You almost spilt scalding hot tea on your arm. Where is your mind?"
Hermione didn't answer him. Right at that moment, she had a one-track mind and a tunnel vision.
She got up from her seat and swiftly crossed the distance between them to sit beside him. The action was so out-of-character for her Malfoy was immediately startled out of his anger.
He looked down at her in confusion as she inched closer to him, her eyes glued to his arm.
"What the hell are you doing, Granger?"
His harsh voice almost made her flinch back. Almost.
Instead, she shocked him further by reaching forward to inspect his inner forearm.
He froze completely. All traces of any emotion bleached away from his face and he stared down at her like he was made of stone.
"What is this, Malfoy?" she breathed.
There was a sort of pained confusion on her face.
The Dark Mark was there, as terrifyingly ugly as she always thought it to be. It was faded a little, the black ink bleeding into his alabaster skin around the edges.
As much as it made an inkling of panic bubble up in her, she wasn't referring to the skull and the snake.
There were deep gouges across his inner arm. Raised scars that ran across the Dark Mark in lines of white perpendicular to his wrist, contrasting jarringly with the black underneath.
Four lines to be precise.
They were so prominently noticeable, Hermione berated herself for not paying attention before.
She didn't want to assume, but it was unmistakable. Four lines. Resembling scratches so deep they had scarred his skin.
Hermione met his empty grey gaze again. "Who did this?"
He was so close, she could see the flecks of light blue in his eyes. She had unwittingly seated herself so near him that she was almost invading his personal space.
His mouth was set in a firm line as he regarded her closely, his irises shifting as he studied her as if he wanted to glean answers from her, instead of the other way around. He didn't say anything, just stared at her silently.
Hermione took a deep breath, letting it out on a shuddering exhale as his unmistakable scent filled her senses.
Pine and freshwater. Winter.
He might as well have been made of white marble. Like a beautiful sculpture carved by skillful hands.
Hermione had never been immune to his beauty. She found him as physically irresistible as any of the other simpering sycophants who buzzed around his presence. But they had never had the chance to look at him from so up close before.
Oh, what they were missing out on.
In that moment, Hermione was transported back to her pre-Hogwarts days.
When her parents would take her to muggle museums and instruct her not to touch any of the mesmerising statues or priceless paintings on display.
Her rule breaking streak had started early on.
Whenever her parents turned their backs, she had been unable to resist the allure of the forbidden.
She had always touched what she wasn't supposed to.
He was like one of those paintings from her childhood, he looked so unreal. High cheekbones you could cut yourself on, an aristocratic nose, eyes like mirrors of smoke and lips that made her itch to find out if they were as soft as they looked.
She didn't need to though. She knew exactly what they felt like. What they tasted like.
But then again. When had one touch or taste ever been enough for her?
Hermione raised her hand towards his face.
Just one touch.
Malfoy's tense posture broke as his eyes fell sharply to her hand.
He yanked his arm away from her so abruptly Hermione almost got whiplash.
Twin spots of colour as vibrant as the Middlemist flowers rose in her cheeks as he pushed to his feet, putting distance between them.
Hermione watched with a growing sense of humiliation as he unrolled his sleeves and covered up his arms again, before reaching for his jacket and robes and donning them on as well.
All while acting like she wasn't sitting there looking at him with wide eyes and a flushed face.
"It's late," he said. "I'm sure the news is everywhere now. You might want to go home and explain everything to your friends."
There was no trace of the earlier amiableness in his voice. He spoke like he was reading from a script.
"Okay," Hermione whispered, slowly getting up.
He silently accompanied her to the Floo room, walking several steps ahead of her.
How had she ruined this even before it started? If only she had kept her pesky curiosity to herself.
Malfoy didn't need to explain his scars to her. They weren't in any kind of relationship. Not even in any kind of friendship.
A mutually beneficial agreement did not require either party to reveal anything personal to the other.
She had overstepped.
Malfoy watched her impassively as she threw the Floo powder at her feet and called out her home.
Her home, as he had said.
Because even though she had married him, she would never have a home with him.
A/n: Chpater Playlist: playlist/4xL6TzL7LQa671Qat59ZsL?si=45a750fa84ba4b89
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